#centennial husbands fic

[scifrey]

Cling Fast: now with bonus epilogue!

A little while later, as Immortals and Endless reckon 'a little while'...

It's a slow afternoon at The New Inn. 

Hob is downstairs, working his way through a pile of the first quizzes of the fall semester. 

The awareness starts slowly, like a dawning itch, or a growing ache between his teeth that he finds uncomfortable, but can't quite figure out where it's coming from. Eventually he clocks that a group of people are seated at the far end of the banquette, and they are staring at him.

They're the only other patrons besides him, and when he pulls himself out of the deep concentration the marking requires, he realizes he never heard the bell over the door chime. Neither did New Kid, who is now no longer new nor a kid, as New Kid hasn't come out of the back where they're overseeing the new-new kid's first kitchen opener shift.

Hob doesn't feel self conscious turning to stare at the group, because they are openly staring at him.

Closest to him on the bench is a beautiful black woman with a smile like a mother's hug. Next to her is a heavily tattooed Asian man, his hair a curtain obscuring his eyes. Opposite them on the chairs, a beautifully handsome person with a pompadour of blonde hair and eyes like flame has their arm slung over the shoulders of a shorter, buxom woman with stringy hair and a tentative look of kind interest. But it's the last one, sitting on the table top itself, that gives it all away—a fey little thing that looks like the living embodiment of a rainbow.

"Wow, you… you guys are really bad at pretending to be human. I thought it was just Morpheus, but no, it's a family failing, huh?"

Death is the first one to laugh.

Read the rest here.

Cling Fast: Chapter Eleven

By Losyark

The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon, and Gaiman Cinematic-Literary Universe canon) Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus) Complete PG-13 (for now) Unbeta’d

Somehow, the summer and Hob's brush with the glitz and glam (more like the sleep deprivation and hurry-up-and-wait) of The Biz comes to an end. The first week of classes start up, and as he promised Morpheus, Hob eschews sleep in order to review the texts, and write the syllabuses and prepare the lectures that he didn't have time to over the summer. Morpheus only throws sand in his face and drags him down into the Dreaming twice, when Hob hadn't caught so much as a cat-nap on his junky office sofa in over forty-eight hours.

It's a strange thing, Hob muses, as he entertains his colleagues with stories of his time on set, to have done something so intense and life-altering, and have no one really know it even exists yet. The footage is in editing, and Hob is no longer needed. He is, in essence, utterly dropped and forgotten by the production.

Harriet understands what he means, and joins Hob at The New Inn every few evenings. She talks him through what she calls "show-drop," or the intense lonely misery that comes after living so closely and bonding with fellow artists so deeply, only for everyone to suddenly and completely part ways. He regales her with tales of the places he's been and the ordinary, everyday people he's met. He promises to read over her newest publication for inaccuracies, and she in turn gives a guest lecture at his uni on archeology and historical recreation for screen media.

He reunites with both of his co-presenters only twice in the month of September: once, to record ADR (basically re-recording dialogue that was muffled or of poor quality, trying to match his voice to the synch of his own mouth), and another time to get dressed up in their costumes for the last time and spend an afternoon shooting promotional posters and images.

He wears the black-and-scarlet velvet ensemble into the Dreaming that night.

Morpheus is playing host to a contingent of new gods seeking to curry favour with Dream of the Endless. Hob misses a good proper balls, and Morpheus is impressed that he still remembers all the steps to the cotillion. The gods all have names like Media, and Mr. World, and have been thought into being by humans. They fawn and flatter over Dream's human (but not mortal) consort, insincere and desperate for a solid place in the world's pantheon. Hob wakes up feeling like he's covered with greasy fingerprints and takes the hottest shower he can stand for at least an hour.

Hob hosts the wrap party at The New Inn, closing the pub for a private party. Patrick and the new kid pull out all the stops, proud of their little local celebrity, and pull out all the stops in the kitchen. Though he wasn't able to track down the fey food artist, Hob connected his team with the food artists, and everyone enjoys venison pasties, and hyppocras, buttered beer and snow, fruit and meat pies, and lots of marzipan shaped like Gadlen House.

Morpheus acquiesces to Hob's wheedling, and attends the party as Hob's partner. He's prickly, and taciturn, but everyone is in high enough spirits that they don't mind Hob's introverted goth boyfriend. And nobody seems to remember that he looks just like one of the stunt team.

Harinder surprises them all by arriving with a USB stick loaded with the first episode and a pocket projector. Between them, Hob and Patrick get the karaoke speakers and a ratty old projector screen cobbled together. Patrick makes sure everyone has all the beer, wine, coffee, soda, and various other cock-or-mocktails topped up, they dim the lights, and let it rip.

The crowd cheers and jeers, hollers and laughs, and as the credits on the first episode roll, everyone stands up and claps for at least five minutes straight.

"What did you think?" Hob asks Morpheus, leaning close to whisper in his lover's ear under all the clapping and celebration.

"It is wonderful. Engaging and cinematic in a way that the previous incarnations of this program have not been. And you make a very appealing and handsome leading man," Morpheus adds, flicking a look at Hob from under black lacework eyelashes that promises wonderful things once he's asleep.

Hob snorts. "I'm hardly the lead, Duckie. There were two other people on the screen too, you know."

 "You have created something to be proud of," Morpheus pushes. He slides his hand into the pack pocket of Hob's jeans, not to fondle or squeeze, but to simply hold him close. Hob feels admired and cherished. "Humanity needs its fantasies, to make its reality a better place to live, and you have created a very admirable fantasy indeed."

"You don't have to butter me up by quoting Sir Terry at me," Hob protests with a laugh.

Morpheus only quirks a smirk at him. 

Then Glenn and his wife crash into them with tipsy glee, Glenn shouting "Did you see that? Did you see that! That's a bloody BAFTA in the bag, that is you mad, wonderful, beautiful Doc Bob, you!"

Harriet, with her wife and son, aren't far behind. Then there are toasts, and drunken heartfelt speeches, and someone figures out how to get a whole mess of electro-tudor remix music pouding on the speakers, the tables are pushed aside, and people are reeling and ducking around one another with unashamed joy.

And Morpheus lets himself slip into the background, contentedly supportive and admiring.

Sweaty and exhausted in the best way, Hob pulls Shami outside sometime around midnight to gift them a small posey of bellflowers and agrimony, as well as a beautiful antique cloak pin. It's a unisex piece, carefully etched with beautiful Tudor knotwork, and set with chips of a dark tourmaline gem that would set off Shami's eyes nicely.

Hob had rescued it from under the floorboards of the Gadlen House nursery. Hob had been poor and penniless enough in his life that even when he was wealthy, he had the foresight to secret away little stashes of treasure, just in case. Fletcher hadn't stolen every treasure, and Hob did find some time alone to wander and snoop during the shoot after all. He'd managed to smuggle his sword out too, by pretending it was just a prop.

Hob didn't tell Shami that the brooch once belonged to first Eleanor's brother, then Eleanor. He doesn't tell Shami that he had hidden away the favorite of her pieces after her death with the intention of one day gifting them to Robyn's bride. Hob doesn't tell Shami that Robyn had never married, but Hob likes to think that Eleanor wouldn't mind him sharing her treasures with the incredible person who had brought her back to him in so many vital, wondrous ways.

All he says is "Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me to know that I have her diary and his sketchbook, safe and preserved, forever."

When they come back inside, Morpheus is waiting in the shadow of the door to snatch Hob to his side, and ensure that nobody gets the wrong idea about the soon-to-be famous television presenter and the digital archivist slinking in from the autumn chill together.

*

Hob takes great delight in goading Morpheus to live out the fantasies of celebrity popping up in the dreams of so many young people these days by making Morpheus promise to walk the red carpet on his arm.

Though, Hob realizes as soon as Morpheus appears in Hob's bedroom that night, he's made a grave miscalculation. Hob's mouth immediately goes desert-dry. 

Morpheus wears boots with higher-than-usual heels so he has at least two inches on Hob, the vain peacock, and his hair crests even higher. He's wearing a beautiful black-on-black damask suit with a waist-length blazer-fronted cape, trimmed with red velvet lapels. His boutonniere easily the size of his whole hand made up of (Hob's app tells him) angrec, cape jasmine, and both blue and pink convolvulus. He's wearing a single silver-and-ruby drop earring. And the eyeliner. By god, Hob can't die but he damn near expires on the spot when he realizes that Morpheus is wearing such perfect, knife-blade sharp winged black eyeliner that it would make a Vogue cover makeup artist weep with envy.

He puts Hob's own tired brown suit to shame. Morpheus seems to agree, because with a twist of his wrist, Hob is suddenly wearing a sharp, slim-cut hunter-green three piece (Morpheus' favorite color on him, clearly), with black shirt and a matching honest-to-god cravat. Instead of a boutonniere, Morpheus has decorated Hob's neckcloth with a small, rectangular ruby on a golden stickpin sculpted to resemble ivy.

"This isn't the Oscars," Hob says, but it's not a protest.

The night is warm enough and Hob's shoes are comfortable enough that the two hour walk to Hither Green and Gadlen House is a pleasure, and it means that Matthew gets to join them all the way to the front gate.

"Aww, come on, Hobsie," Matthew wheedles from Hob's shoulder, preening his hair out of its carefully pomaded fall. "The boss showed me the opening shot. It wouldn't be half as good if I wasn't in it."

"True," Hob allows, as they wait from the back of the line for their turn to present their ID badges and gain entry to the park.

Security is tight at Gadlen House tonight, and every who's-who of the entertainment world has been invited. Most of them aren't sure what they're there for—it's just the dinky little premiere of a dinky little docuseries after all—but the muckity mucks at the BBC had insisted, and, Hob's sure, they're all going to be really glad they were part of the first wave of outlets who get to break the big news about the quarto.

The plan tonight is to screen the first episode followed up with a bit of a talk from Harinder and a thirty minute Q&A with Hob, Harriet and Glenn, and then a presentation from Shami about the future of digital archeology and historical document interactivity, and then, when everyone was thoroughly bored to tears—ten minutes of uncut footage of Hob and Glenn goofing around and cataloging the contents of the Gadlen Fell Crate Papers, until Glenn goes parchment white and starts screaming like a little girl.

At which point, the experts at the V&A would be stepping in to present the actual quarto to the press, Hob is sure social media is going to lose its goddamn mind, and Hob plans to take full and unashamed advantage of his lover's eldritch nature to sneak away before anyone tries to buttonhole him.

Matthew tugs on Hob's hair threateningly.

"Yeah, okay," Hob relents. "But stand on the very edge of my shoulder, like that, yeah. Glenn taught me this for photos—always make sure there's empty air around your body so you don't look squashed against another person. And you can't come into the house, this is just for the outdoor carpet, okay?"

"Okay!" Matthew croaks. "I'm gonna be a star, baby!"

Matthew holds his head high, puffs and smooths the lay of his feathers and, if a raven can suck it in, then he's definitely sucking it in.

"You spoil him," Morpheus says indulgently.

Hob takes his hand and entwines their fingers. "I spoil you both, and I don't see you complaining. Now, shhh, Matthew."

The bored guard at the door doesn't even glance up at them as he takes and checks Hob's work badge.

"Gadlen, plus one?"

"Yes," Hob says.

"Have fun, guv." He waves them through and is on to the next person who has just arrived behind them.

Past the gates, Hob is met with event PAs and coordinators who eye up Matthew, but don't say anything. They're probably used to way weirder things when it comes to celebrities, and Hob is hardly that.

They're asked to hold a moment, as the small group before them—Harinder and the direction team, it looks like—clears the first bank of photographers and reporters. Hob takes a moment to marvel at the way that Gadlen House has once again been transformed.

The drive has been overlaid with low metal risers, smothered in a literal red carpet. On one side, the press is contained by long strands of red velvet ropes which protect the grass. On the other, an eight-foot wall of temporary flats has been erected, uplit to ensure the repeating pattern of BBC Historics and National Trust logos are visible in each photo anyone takes.

Up by the house, the front courtyard has been transformed into a little cocktail bar, elegant stand lights showing off the fountains to best advantage, and penguin-suited waiters in absurd tudor-era bonnets with ridiculous ostrich feathers circulating with trays of champagne.

Hob's been told that the grand entry hall has been filled with tiered seating and a large cinematic screen, and a podium from which the evening's host will crack tired jokes and try to keep folks entertained between setups.

It's all a bit much for a silly little historical docudrama, but Hob knows what the prize at the bottom of the crackerjack box is. He knows it will be worth all of the hullabaloo.

"Alright," the P.A. at the top of the carpet says, after conferring with someone on a headset. "When I say go, walk out to the middle of that first group. My colleague there—see, he's waving—he'll let you know when you're good. Pose for the cameras, and speak to the reporter on the carpet. She'll ask you two or three questions, might have you give a spin. Then my colleague will pass you on to the next one down the line. Feel free to decline to answer any questions you don't want to, and don't let the bird shit on anything."

"Excuse you—" Matthew squawks.

"Go!"

Morpheus takes Hob by the hand and swivels forward like he's planning to seduce the whole crowd.

He probably is.

"Doc Bob!" someone in the crowd shouts, and another says "Sir Gadlen!"

"You're off by three," Hob calls back, and the scrum chuckles, charmed.

The new PA introduces the reporter, and Hob vaguely recognizes her from one of the late night chat shows.

"Mr. Gadlen, and Mr…" 

"Oneiros," Morpheus offers up.

"Right-o, sir," the PA says. "If you'll both just stand here…"

They do and Hob is not even remotely surprised that Morpheus knows how to work a camera. He must be tapping into the dreams of every model on the U.K. right now. He tugs Hob into a few poses subtly, and Hob feels like a complete tit but trusts his lover to do right by him.

The reporter asks about Hob's experience on set ("Uh, yeah, cool, really cool," Hob answers to his mortification); what he's wearing ("McQueen," Morpheus intones); and if the bird is real or a fashion accessory.

"Real!" Matthew protests.

"Real," Hob echoes, resisting the urge to reach up and pluck out one of Matthew's tailfeathers. "And an excellent mimic when he wants to be. He insisted on coming along."

"How adorable! Is he friendly? Can I pet your crow?"

"Raven," Hob corrects. "And technically, it's his bird," Hob says, jerking his thumb at Morpheus. "But Matthew likes me better."

"Matthew would appreciate your attention, yes," Morpheus allows magnanimously. "Pet his breast, or gently along his beak."

And that is how Morpheus becomes boyfriend of the year for figuring out how to keep all the attention off of Hob and his terrible interview answers, and Matthew becomes the unequivocal favorite of the evening.

They event organizers even open a window in one of the turrets of the great hall so he could sit on the sill and watch.

*

A few hours later, Morpheus and Hob sneak away just as he planned, ducking under the red velvet ropes and putting his lock-breaking skills to the test to break into his old bedroom. Morpheus takes care of the security system and cameras without needing to be asked.

"Do you think they forgot that they left the good mattress on the… ha ha!" Hob chortles gleefully. "Look, they did!"

"You know, you never properly slept in this bed, Hob," Morpheus ventures, with exactly zero innocence or nonchalance.

"No, I did not," Hob replies with a cheeky wink. "Help me christen it?"

"Gladly."

*

The revelation of the missing Shakespeare play is enough to shoot the fame of the series, and its presenters, into the stratosphere. Because Cardenio was found in Hob's Gadlen Fell Crate, it technically belongs to him. So every A-list Shakespearen actor, dramatist, and acting troupe in the country is banging down his door for a look at it. Hob very quickly, very wisely, and very generously donates the damn thing away to the National Trust. Let them manage its preservation and loaning rights, and make top dollar on the licensing fees besides. They deserve the boost in funding and fame.

Still, every reporter, Elizabethan scholar, and entertainment news anchor wants a piece of Bob Gadlen the Sixth. Hob does all he can to reorient the spotlight onto Harriet, and Glenn, and Shami. By the end of October it's gotten so bad that Hob has resumed teaching all of his classes online so he can avoid the paps on campus. Patrick has to hire a bouncer for The New Inn, and Lucienne steps briefly into the Waking world to act as Hob's legal protector and manager.

As a creature who has read literally every book there is to read on law, Lucienne is ruthlessly efficient. By the end of the month, Hob has gone back to being a nobody professor and a person of non-interest to the media. Occasionally someone recognizes him on the street and asks for a selfie, or comes up to him in a cafe when he's on a date with Morpheus. 

And memorably, a few days before All Hallows Eve, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts makes the mistake of inviting Hob to give a guest lecture. They're clearly thinking (as far as Hob can tell) that because the quarto was found among Hob's things, Hob must be some sort of expert must be some sort of Shakespeare expert. And he is. But not in the way they expected.

And that's how a cadre of venerable professors, a few A-listers who think they can get away with the ballcap-and-glasses disguise, and two cohorts worth of young hopeful actors are treated to a pacing, ranting diatribe against the boyfriend-stealing wannabe, an exaltation of Kit Marlowe, and an incredibly powerful moment-by-moment narration of what going to see a play at The Curtain (a far superior theater to The Globe in Hob's estimation) smelled like, sounded like, looked like, and felt like.

"Not helping your mission to stay under the radar," Harriet texts him, with a link to a video, two days later.

Hob, Morpheus and Matthew are upstairs in Hob's flat, working their way through a bowl of discount Tescos candy—Morpheus' sweet tooth strikes again—and carving neeps into lanterns whose light Stingy Jack can roam the world by. Stingy Jack-o-the-Lantern is real, it turns out, and as close to a friend as anyone can be to Morpheus. The guy deserves some turnips with faces in them just for that alone, Hob figures.

Apparently one of the RADA students had recorded the whole thing and has created a supercut of Hob's most creative, Elizabethan, and devastating insults to the bard. Matthew asks him to replay it for him on the phone four times before Morpheus gets in a snit and goes on his own rant about how important Midsummer was to his political alliances with the Fair Folk.

Talk then turns to Shaxbeard's lost son Hamnet, and as fathers of dead sons, they agree wordlessly to change the topic.

*

Fall shades elegantly into Winter. 

Hob finishes his term and is buried in snowdrifts of essays and exams to mark. He meets up regularly with Harriet, politely declines with all the force in his Immortal body when the BBC asks him back for a second series, and teaches Matthew the rules of Football. ("The good one, birdbrain, not that handegg you used to watch when you had thumbs.")

And then, one quiet evening when it's just Patrick, New Kid, and the two of them in the pub, Morpheus reaches across the table, takes Hob's hand, and asks "Are you happy?"

Hob, who had been thinking about whether or not he wanted to subject himself to the humiliation of adding Elizabethan Manor to next semester's syllabus as non-compulsory but recommended viewing, blinks a few times as his brain catches up to Morpehus' question.

"Yes," Hob says slowly, sitting forward and giving Morpheus his full attention. This feels like a far more serious question than it sounds. "Why do you ask? Are you?"

"Very happy," Morpheus says, but then sighs like that's the greatest misfortune an anthropomorphic personification can endure.

"Okay. But forgive me duck… you don't sound like it."

"I am very happy, and that is the problem," Morpheus confesses, slumping in his chair.

This worries Hob even more, because he's never seen Morpheus slump in his chair before. He lounges, he reclines, he luxuriates, he sprawls, he reposes. He does not slump.

Hob squeezes his hand reassuringly. "I'm listening."

Between them, where Patrick can see, Morpheus wills a Meadow Saffron into existence. Hob is pleased with himself that he recognizes it on sight, after so many hours spent studying his floriography texts.

"Dearheart, no," Hob says, plucking the flower out of Morpheus' fingers and laying it on the seat beside him. "That's not true at all. Your best days are yet to come. You have me now."

"I do have you," Morpheus agrees. "But… I fear that you do not have me. Not the way I would like it."

"You're right here, duckie."

"But I should like to be here more. I want to sleep beside you, Hob. Properly sleep, not simply watch you drop off and then step into my realm and resume my function while you rest. I want to rest with you. I want to wake with you. I want—to be greater than my function and at the same time, less. I want wholly outside of it. I want to be… where you are. Where I am happiest."

"Wait, let me get my head around this. Is my boyfriend Dream of the Endless or Morpheus, the God of Sleep? Am I sleeping with whole diamond, or just one facet? Is that what worries you? Because I don't care…"

The pained look on Morpheus' face makes it clear that Hob is way off the mark, and he trails off, waiting. Rare for him, Morpheus hesitates before he answers. He opens his petal-pink mouth, draws a breath, licks his lips, closes them again, then does it all again. Hob waits him out, massaging the tense tendons of Morpheus' palm with his thumbs.

Finally, Morpheus says: "How would you feel if I was neither?"

Hob blinks, digests what Morpheus has said, decides it doesn't make any sense any which way he turns it over in his mind, and says: "Come again?"

"What if… I were not Dream of the Endless. Or Morpheus the God of Sleep. What if I was… just a man?"

Hob sits bolt upright. "What's wrong with your voice?"

"Nothing. I merely… perhaps it is foolish."

"No, go on," Hob reassures him, trying to adjust to the new, less bone-vibrating timbre of Morpheus' speech. It's fine. It still sounds like him. Just… different.

"A child comes," Morpheus murmurs eventually. "Conceived in the Dreaming, made of dreamstuff."

Hob blinks some more as his brain buffers. "Are you pregnant?"

Morpheus chuckles wryly. "No."

"Oh. okay." Hob licks his lips, digesting this. "Wait, am I pregnant?"

Morpheus laughs gently. "No, Hob. The child grows in the heart and fantasies of a woman who… well, the details are a story for another time, I think. But the babe will be a fine heir, I should think."

"An heir?" Hob blinks some more, and takes a few sips of his beer to cover as he tries to catch up. Morpheus sometimes drops strange scruffy things into his lap like a proud kitten, and even after all this time, after all he's done and seen, Hob still needs time to readjust his reality to encompass the offering. "An heir?  God's wounds, are you dying?"

"No, Hob. The Endless do not die." Morpheus meets his eyes earnestly, then lifts their entwined hands to kiss each of Hob's knuckles. "But this facet has… reached its natural conclusion."

"So you are dying," Hob repeats, distress wringing through every fiber of his body.

"I assure you, no," Morpheus says. He rises from his seat, scoots around the table and pulls Hob against his chest to soothe Hob's building panic. "Do you not think that my sister shares the same love for me as she does for you? What she has bargained for you, she has agreed to provide for me as well."

"I'm not following," Hob admits, clutching at Morpheus' ribs.

"Gods come and go. The old fade and new ones are thought into being. You met some of them." 

Hob swallows hard enough that he feels his throat burn. "Yes."

"Morpheus the God of Sleep is… fading. This world no longer needs a classical, old-fashioned, ancient god of dreams. Dreams are different now, and they need a new avatar to shepherd them. And so another God grows within the womb of human imagination. Do you understand?"

Hob looks up at Morpheus, and he knows he's trembling, knows he frightened, but Morpheus is wrapped around him, keeping him steady.

"I think so." 

"When this child is born, the facet that you know as Morpheus will cease to be Endless, and simply become… human." A smile, beatific and contented spreads over Morpheus' face. "An Immortal human, yes, but human all the same. Think of it less as death and perhaps more as… retirement."

"You'll be like me," Hob gasps.

"Yes."

"You'll be with me," Hob adds, excitement replacing his fear. He straightens to meet Morpheus' pleading eyes.

"Yes. Unless you'd prefer—"

"Fuck that," Hob says, clinging to Morpheus. "You'll be moving in with me upstairs, that's what'll be happening."

"If that is what you wish."

"That is abosu-fucking-lutely what I wish," Hob confirms, then surges up to press his lips against Morpheus' in a claiming, hungry, possessive kiss.

"Then it is done," Morpheus says, when they part. Another bargain struck. Maybe the last.

Fuck me, Hob thinks, and wishes he could manifest an avalanche of roses, roses, roses.

Morpheus must see his fantasy, because rose petals begin to tumble from the empty air around them, drifting along the table and clinging to Morpheus' hair. Hob laughs, enchanted and elated.

Patrick's gonna take one look at the floor and kill him on the spot.

The thought makes Hob want to kiss Morpheus again, so he does.

"This is, forgive me, a dream come true," Hob laughs, when they eventually break off. He may also be crying, he's not sure. All he knows is that he needs to flag down New Kid and get them to pop some bubbly. "This is sorta everything. All my hopes and, well, now my Dream, too."

“Entirely. And if I am your Dream,” Morpheus asks reticently. “Will you, in return, be my Hope?”

"Absolutely," Hob says, and leans across the table to kiss Morpheus. "For as long as you want."

"For forever then," Morpheus agrees. "Or have you not heard? One cannot kill hope."

THE END

PREVIOUS | More Fanfic | More Books

[fishfingersandscarves]

i'm excited to show dream's board book for To Be Brand New by @dsudis for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang (dream's helm lenses are made with reflective paper! so irl you can look at yourself on the page)

link to the high rez illustrations

[alexxuun]

CW: Drowning ⚠️

Hello everyone! I’m glad to be a part of @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang as an artist! Here’s my little work for a lovely fic written by @wickedsymphony - Of Blood and Water!

Please go and give it some love <3

[rexwrendraws]

[AO3 LINK] 🪸 My illustration for Hell or High Water by @teejaystumbles for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang !! I was super, super excited to illustrate for this fic, check it out for some very cool Little-Mermaid-meets-Innsmouth Dreamling vibes 🌊 :D

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Where It Goes

Summary:

When a train breaks down during a snowstorm, the passengers are forced to spend the night at a hotel.

Two strangers share their Christmas plans and find themselves enjoying the company much more than they expected.

Rating: Explicit

Notes (more at the end):

For Sandman Connect 4 | @sandman-connect4

Prompts: Train + Breakdown + Feast + Explore

I'd been wanting to write a one-shot inspired by this fic written by @softest-punk, and this combination of prompts finally gave me the window for it~

Word Count: 5,130

[Read on AO3]

———

Snow is falling softly on a Friday evening in December, and the streets are alive with brilliant lights and Christmas carols.

Morpheus sees all this with distant interest as he glances up from his book, making sure it isn’t his station yet when the train begins to slow to a stop.

Some people on either side of him get up to exit, and Morpheus goes back to reading. In his periphery, he notices that a couple and their child have just gotten aboard, and he moves to his left to make space for them on the bench.

The train begins to move again. Morpheus is in the middle of figuring out the clues that the detective has discovered in the novel when he feels something bump against his shoulder.

He looks to his left and sees that the man sitting beside him has fallen asleep, his arms wrapped securely around a backpack on his lap.

Morpheus purses his lips. His first instinct is to avoid the touch, uncomfortable with physical contact even from friends and family. However, he understands how tiring public commute can be, especially with the Christmas Eve rush. So he takes a breath and lets it be, managing to get back to the story.

Two stations later, the train lurches to an abrupt halt, making most of the passengers give a shout of surprise.

The man on Morpheus’ shoulder tips forward, and Morpheus instinctively holds out his hand to the man’s backpack to steady him. The man startles awake and sits up, blinking owlishly as the train makes a screeching sound, grinding to a halt halfway into the station.

“Sorry, mate,” the man slightly shakes his head and stifles a yawn behind his hand. “Didn't mean to fall asleep. Uh, what's happening?” He straightens the front of his brown jacket.

Morpheus furrows his eyebrows as he looks around at the other confused passengers. “I believe the train has broken down.”

No sooner has he said the words when the sound of the tannoy comes on and they hear the voice of the conductor informing them that there seems to be a problem with the engine, and everyone has to disembark the train now while they make repairs.

The passengers murmur and grumble their complaints, but there's nothing else to be done about it. The doors open and people begin filing out.

Morpheus sighs and closes his book. He should have known that going home to attend his parents’ Christmas dinner would bring only misfortune.

—

Hob adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulders as he goes with the crowd to enter the nearest hotel from the train station.

Snow is falling heavily now, and most of the main roads are closed. Some passengers had started complaining to the conductor and security guards and whoever else in uniform they could find, and so a compromise was reached that they would all be booked to stay the night in a nearby hotel, paid for by the train company as compensation for causing such a hassle on Christmas Eve, in exchange for the passengers not suing them or filing a mountain of complaints.

Hob isn't feeling particularly angry; he's sad to miss his parents’ Christmas dinner, but he's seen enough snowy Christmases to know that he can still most likely make it in time for Christmas Day brunch at their house.

Waking up to the bluest eyes he's ever seen also helped a lot with his mood. He scans the hotel lobby now for the man, but it's difficult with the crowd of people. Hob wonders briefly if the man didn't go to the hotel with them, but it seems unlikely considering how there's hardly any cabs driving in this weather.

A hotel staff approaches them and says that unfortunately due to the amount of people coming in all at once, they would have to share rooms for the night. There's more grumbling and scoffing, and the hotel staff says that a simple meal would be prepared for them soon, and they can wait in the lobby while the food and their rooms are being arranged.

People slowly settle down into seats, and Hob looks around to find himself a vacant flat surface to sit on.

His eyes land on a man seated on the third step of the stairs leading to the second floor. The buttons of the man’s black peacoat are undone, giving him a somewhat relaxed air as his gaze focuses on the book in his lap, his slender legs stretched gracefully on the lower steps.

Hob feels himself smile and makes his way towards the man. He unslings his backpack from his shoulders and gets something from the outer pocket.

“While we wait for dinner,” Hob holds out the unopened buttered croissant in clear packaging.

The man glances at him, then at the food in his hand. “Thank you, but it is not necessary. I am not hungry.”

Hob nods and returns the croissant in his bag. “Alright, well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. Is it alright if I sit?” he points to the stairs. “Everywhere else is full.”

The man glances at the crowded lobby and nods. “Of course.” He turns a page in his book and returns to reading.

Hob sits on the same step as the man, on the farthest side against the wall. Fortunately, the staircase is wide enough that there's still plenty of space between them for people to walk through if they wanted to use the stairs.

Hob places his backpack on the step below him and takes out his phone to message his parents. He informs them of the situation and reassures them that he'll be home for Christmas brunch.

They talk for a while in the family group chat, and Hob is glad to know that the snowfall isn't too heavy at his parents’ place.

He looks up when he sees some people walking around, and he realises that they're starting to set up tables and distribute food.

Hob glances over to the man beside him, and he still looks the same as when Hob first approached; quietly reading his book with a very subtle frown of concentration, partly leaning against the railing.

Hob considers informing him that dinner is almost ready, but he gets a better idea.

He stands up and slings his backpack on his shoulders, and heads over to help with setting up.

A few minutes later, Hob comes back to the man with a plate of food. “Here you go,” he holds it out.

The man glances up and looks at the plate: grapes, cheese, two slices of white bread, and ham.

“Wasn't sure what you'd like so I brought the safest options,” Hob says sheepishly.

The man tilts his head a fraction to the side. “Why did you bring anything at all?”

Hob shrugs and sits down against the wall again, setting his backpack down. “To thank you for catching me earlier? Would have fallen on my face if you hadn't.”

“It was simply common decency,” the man said indifferently.

“So is this,” Hob holds out the plate again.

The man gives a small smile. “Thank you.” He takes the plate, but then a notification sound from his pocket takes his attention. He sets the plate down beside him and takes out his phone, frowning when he reads the screen.

“Something troubling you?” Hob picks up a grape from his own plate. “If you don't mind me asking.”

“I was supposed to go to my parents’ house tonight for Christmas dinner. I informed them earlier of the situation, and the passive-aggressive messages have begun,” he says drily.

“Maybe they're just worried about you?” Hob offers.

“They're worried about their image,” the man corrects him. “For reasons I am yet to understand, they want all their friends to see on social media that we spend Christmas together annually. Perhaps they think it would somehow draw in more business for their country club.”

“Oh.” Hob falls quiet. It’s a bit surreal to hear, especially since it’s a stark contrast to how Hob feels about celebrating Christmas with his family.

There’s another notification sound, but this time the man smiles at his phone. “My older sister told me to be safe, and my younger sibling called me a ‘lucky bastard’ for not being there right now.”

“I’m guessing none of you actually enjoy those dinners?” Hob smiles despite the unhappy sentiment, just glad to see that the man’s mood seems to have improved.

“Indeed,” the man sighs and returns his phone to his pocket. “Ah, where are my manners. I am Morpheus.” He holds out a hand.

Hob grins. “Hob,” he shakes Morpheus’ hand. “Hopefully you have a better Christmas Eve now than last year. No posh parents to tolerate here. Unless you wanna approach any of them in the lobby,” he nods in the direction of it.

Morpheus chuckles. “How about you, then? Where were you headed?”

“Same as you, Christmas dinner with family. We do it yearly, too. No complaints so far, apart from when I extremely messed up that batch of cookies two years back.”

Morpheus raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “How does one ‘extremely mess up’ cookies?”

“When one misreads ½ cup of baking soda as 2 ½ cups. Tasted like chemicals, I nearly choked on it,” Hob scrunches up his face at the memory.

“Where did the 2 come from?” Morpheus asks in amusement.

“It was the second item on the ingredients list. I thought ‘2’ was part of the measurement, since it was right beside the ‘½’,” Hob explains, gesturing with his hands.

Morpheus glances at his plate like it might be poisoned. “You didn’t cook any of these, did you?”

“Oi!” Hob says indignantly. “That was one time! I’ve made excellent cookies since then.”

Morpheus laughs, a real one that brightens up his entire face and makes Hob feel pleasantly warm on the inside.

“Well,” Morpheus says as he calms down. “I’m sorry that your Christmas Eve is turning out to be bleaker than last year’s. It sounds like you actually enjoy spending it with your family,”

“Oh I do, but last year was… different.” A ridiculous understatement, but Hob isn’t sure how much would be socially acceptable to tell someone he just met.

Morpheus looks at him curiously. “I’m guessing it was worse than inedible cookies?”

Hob chuckles awkwardly and glances down at his plate. “Yeah, uh… my girlfriend at the time broke up with me.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Morpheus says in surprise.

“She felt like she had to, I think,” Hob shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I proposed. Thought it would be a grand romantic gesture. And it was, which was the problem. She said things were going too fast, I was too much, stuff like that.” He focused on getting a piece of lasagna from his plate, taking a bite of it and chewing slowly to make himself stop rambling.

“I see,” Morpheus said without pity or judgement in his voice, which Hob is grateful for. “I apologise for having brought up such a personal matter.”

“Nah it’s alright. It hurt an awful lot at the time, but I’ve made peace with it now,” Hob says sincerely. “It took a long while and a great deal of support from my friends and family, but eventually I was able to move on from it. We wanted different things, that’s all.”

Morpheus nods and uses his fork to put some ham and cheese on the piece of bread and puts the other slice on it to make a sandwich. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re too much,” he gestures with the sandwich towards Hob before taking a bite of it.

Hob chuckles and tugs at his earlobe, feeling his face warm. “Thanks, mate. Uh, you can go back to reading now,” he gestures to the book still open on Morpheus’ lap. “I just wanted to make sure you got some food before they ran out.”

Morpheus raises an eyebrow. “You don’t wish to speak with me anymore?”

“No, I do!” Hob says hurriedly. “It’s just that, my sister’s a bookworm and I know she hates it when people interrupt her reading.”

Morpheus smiles. “I see. And what does it mean when she willingly puts a book away in order to spend time with someone?”

“Oh, that’s a huge honour,” Hob says fondly. “It means she’s really interested…” he trails off when Morpheus closes his book and puts it in his small messenger bag. “You’re…?”

“Interested? Yes.”

“In me?” Hob says without thinking and almost takes it back.

“Are you opposed?”

“No,” Hob replies probably too quickly.

Morpheus’ eyes are twinkling with fond amusement, and Hob thinks the flush on his face might be glaringly obvious.

He is saved from saying anything embarrassing by the announcement of the hotel staff that the rooms are ready, and that they can queue up to get assigned with roommates.

Hob and Morpheus finish their remaining food and get up to stand in line. Morpheus hangs back a little when they reach the queue and gestures for Hob to be in front of him.

The now familiar notification sound catches Hob’s attention and he turns in time to see Morpheus looking at his phone screen with a sour expression.

“More passive-aggressive texts?” Hob asks sympathetically.

“Yes. I'm muting them now. I shall just claim that the snow had caused disruptions in signals.” Morpheus pockets his phone again, but there’s still a crease on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” Hob asks.

Morpheus lets out a breath. “They keep asking how my girlfriend is and whether I'm bringing her there tomorrow.”

Hob’s heart drops to his stomach. Morpheus has a girlfriend? But then why—

“I have not told them we had ended our relationship more than eight months ago.”

“Oh,” Hob feels guilty about how relieved he feels. “I'm… sorry to hear that.”

Morpheus shakes his head lightly. “It was for the best. She works in Greece, and our relationship could not survive the distance. But as you say, I’ve made peace with it. I just haven’t told my parents about the breakup because I know they’re planning to set me up with an heir to some company or other. I don’t know, I don’t really keep track of their business deals.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not having dinner with them,” Hob says to lighten the mood as they move up the line. “You can enjoy Christmas Eve for once.”

Morpheus smiles. “Indeed.”

They reach the front of the line and the woman at the desk asks Hob if he already has someone to share a room with or if they need to assign him one.

Hob realises he hasn't thought about it, and turns to Morpheus. “Do you wanna share a room?”

Morpheus nods. “Yes.” He looks at the woman. “How many would we be in one room?”

“Given the limited capacity of the hotel this evening, four people would share a double room, that's our room with two beds,” the woman adjusts her glasses. “And two people would be assigned to each single room with one bed. Extra mattresses and blankets will be provided upon request.”

Hob exchanges glances with Morpheus. He wouldn't mind sharing a room with more people, but it might be more comfortable if it's just the two of them, given that they know each other more than anyone else here. Safer too, since they already trust each other to some degree.

Yeah, keep making those excuses, Gadling, a part of Hob’s brain tells him.

“It's your turn in the queue,” Morpheus says. “You make the choice.”

“It'll be your room too,” Hob points out.

Morpheus looks away for a moment. “I am not prone to socialising.”

“Single room it is, then,” Hob tries not to sound too happy about it and nods to the woman to confirm.

She types something on her computer and gives them their key cards. “That’s on the second floor, down the hall to your right. Have a good evening,” she says with a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” Hob takes the cards and looks at her nametag. “Lucienne,” he returns the smile.

Hob hands Morpheus a key card and they head to the stairs.

“You can now resume your sleep from the train,” Morpheus says playfully as they walk side by side.

Hob smiles. “I guess, but I'm not really sleepy anymore. I think I'd walk around and explore the place for a bit, and ask for that extra mattress. You take the bed.”

Morpheus shakes his head. “I do not mind the mattress. You can have the bed.”

“We'll coin flip for it later,” Hob says when they reach their room.

Morpheus looks around and walks towards a small shelf with drinks and snacks. “All these and not a singular water bottle,” he frowns disapprovingly.

“Oh I have one, haven't opened it yet.” Hob unslings his backpack and places it down on a chair.

He opens the zipper and a small wrapped present nearly tumbles out, but he catches it in time. He takes the bottle of water he bought at a convenience store earlier and puts the present back in the bag before zipping it shut again.

“Here you go,” Hob holds out the bottle as Morpheus walks over to him. “And that buttered croissant still has your name on it if you want it,” he pats the pocket where it still sits.

“Your bag is full of presents,” Morpheus says curiously as he accepts the bottle.

“Ah, yeah,” Hob chuckles. “For my parents and siblings. Stayed up late last night wrapping them, that's why I was dozing off on the train.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Morpheus smiles and opens the water bottle to take a sip.

“They'd have some for me too, we like giving each other presents. Nothing fancy, just small trinkets and things that we think would make each other happy.”

Morpheus' smile turns wistful. “Your family sounds lovely.”

“And your siblings would want you to have a lovely evening. How about it, then? Stroll around a bit before we argue who takes the bed?”

“There shall be no arguments. We will take the stroll and you will be too tired afterwards and fall asleep on the bed,” Morpheus declares lightly.

“You're not gonna outlast me that easily, I've spent many nights telling my nieces and nephews bedtime stories. And they do not fall asleep after just one.”

Morpheus huffs out a chuckle. “Lead the way, then.”

They go downstairs and order cups of hot chocolate from the crowded café before walking aimlessly around the hotel. They find a garden blanketed with thick snow, and a small gym that's closed for the night.

They eventually end up on a small balcony on the second floor overlooking the amenities at the back of the hotel.

“There's a tennis court,” Hob notices. “Do you play?”

Morpheus shakes his head. “I am not inclined towards sports.”

“What do you do, then? When you're not getting stranded in hotels with strangers.”

“I own a pub that also rents out rooms for those who need a place to stay.”

“Wow, I wouldn't have figured you as a pub owner.”

Morpheus arches an eyebrow in amusement. “You’d have expected me to have a beard? To be more extroverted like a bartender?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “You just look like an artist, that's all. One of those fancy ones. With your eye for books and gorgeous fashion sense.”

Morpheus smiles. “I do play the piano and write songs, so you're not entirely wrong.”

“Really? I'd love to hear you play some time,” Hob says and instantly regrets it.

It implies a next time, that he wants to keep seeing Morpheus even after tonight.

Too much, too soon. A ring discarded on the coffee table—

“I would love to play for you,” Morpheus' soft voice puts a halt on Hob's thoughts. His blue eyes are bright with sincerity, and his lips curve with that smile that Hob is beginning to grow fond of. “And what do you do, Hob? Apart from judging people based on their appearance.”

“Hey, you just said I wasn't entirely wrong,” Hob points out.

Morpheus just chuckles and takes a sip from his cup.

“I'm a college professor, Literature.” Hob leans against the railing.

“I see,” Morpheus sounds pleasantly surprised. “Do you nurture young minds to express themselves through the written word, or torture them with poetry analyzations?”

“I delight them with Christopher Marlowe, thank you very much. I torture them with Shakespeare.”

Morpheus laughs and glances down into his cup. “I must admit I… did not expect this at all when they said we would have to spend the night here.”

“You didn't expect a college professor with a bag full of wrapped trinkets?” Hob finishes his hot chocolate and places the cup on the railing.

Morpheus smiles and looks at Hob again, and Hob feels something flutter in his stomach at receiving a smile like that.

“I did not expect anyone at all. I am not the most… approachable, I've been told. I had thought I would be spending Christmas Eve by myself.” He empties his cup too and sets it down beside Hob’s.

Hob wonders who could have told Morpheus that, but he decides not to pry and just shrugs. “I didn't want to spend Christmas Eve alone, and you're good company.” He takes a step closer and playfully leans forward. “I'm glad it's you I accidentally fell asleep on.”

Morpheus chuckles and also takes a step closer. “And I'm glad I put my book away to spend time with you.”

“Still interested, then?” Hob says even as his face warms.

“Yes.” Morpheus holds his gaze, eyes glittering with intent.

Hob’s mouth suddenly goes dry, and he can’t help but stare at those rosy pink lips, wondering if they would taste like the chocolate drink Morpheus just finished.

“You're the one who told me to enjoy Christmas Eve, correct?” Morpheus steps even closer.

Hob swallows, meeting Morpheus’ eyes and unable to look away. “Y-Yeah, you should.” He could easily step backwards to put more distance between them, but right now there's nothing on this earth that could make him want to do that.

“Hob…” Morpheus whispers and noses along Hob’s cheekbone, his warm breath like a caress.

Hob grabs Morpheus' face with both hands and presses their lips together, swallowing the pleased hum that slipped out of Morpheus.

The glide of their tongues against each other is soft, and Hob was right that Morpheus’ mouth would taste like the hot chocolate, except it’s infinitely better and Hob can’t stop chasing the heat of it.

Morpheus wraps his arms around Hob’s waist, and Hob summons a great deal of willpower to pull away from the kiss, placing his hands on Morpheus' shoulders.

“Morpheus…” Hob says breathlessly. “I want… I want to keep seeing you after this. So if this is just a one-time thing for you, tell me now so I know to expect it. We’d both been with other people relatively recently and I don't want you to think I'm just using you as a replacement because I was really sad this time last year—”

Morpheus gently places a finger to Hob's lips. “I wish to keep seeing you as well.” He retracts his finger to cup Hob’s face instead, running a thumb across his cheekbone. “And neither am I using you as a mere replacement. I said I would love to play music for you, and I meant it. Even if we go no further tonight, I am already glad to have met you.”

Hob takes a steadying breath and tightens his grip on Morpheus' shoulders to ground himself. “Okay, okay… If you're alright with it, then I wanna see you again some time after tonight. I'm really glad to have met you too, and I wanna see where this goes.”

Morpheus tenderly rests his forehead against Hob’s. “I dearly enjoy your company and I would like the same.” He pulls back to look at Hob. “Though I am hoping that where this goes next is to our shared bedroom?” he says with a fond smile. “Even if all you want to do is talk, I wish to keep holding you in my arms and—”

Hob has surged up to kiss him again, pushing him backwards against a wall.

Morpheus puts his hands on the small of Hob’s back and pulls him closer, meeting the kiss with such enthusiasm that it makes Hob pleasantly lightheaded.

They do eventually make it to their bedroom, though Hob can't at all remember how. He just hears the click of a lock and the next thing he knows he's on his back on the bed, Morpheus looming beautifully over him.

He grabs the front of Morpheus' coat and pulls him down, kissing him like he needs it to breathe.

Morpheus' tongue dives deep, exploring Hob's mouth and eliciting sounds that Hob might have been embarrassed by if not for the fact that Morpheus is making them too.

Morpheus' fingers slip under Hob's shirt and he shivers, earning him another pleased hum.

They push and pull and squirm until coat and jacket and shirts fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Hob feels the hard line of Morpheus' cock against his own through their trousers and a wounded noise escapes him, his hips bucking up to chase more of the sensation.

Morpheus mirrors his impatience and reaches with trembling fingers to undo Hob’s fly. Hob bites his lip to maintain a modicum of composure as he returns the favour, and soon enough they've divested each other of the rest of their clothing.

Hob gets impossibly harder at the sight of Morpheus cock, but he doesn't have much time to stare as Morpheus captures his lips once more.

They rut against each other, precome making them slick and sticky as they moan into their kisses. Hob remembers seeing snow outside but he doesn't feel the slightest bit cold; his skin is on fire and every touch of Morpheus only stokes the flames.

Hob threads his fingers through Morpheus' hair, keeping him in place and relishing in the feeling of soft raven locks under his hands.

He feels a hand wrap around both of their cocks and Hob gasps, breaking the kiss and eyes rolling back in his head.

Morpheus sucks and nips at his neck as he strokes down their lengths, his pace quickening until he's making muffled whimpers against Hob's skin.

Hob’s legs begin to tremble, he digs his fingernails into Morpheus' back and his mouth falls open in anticipation as he feels the familiar pull at the base of his spine.

“Hob…” Morpheus moans sinfully into his neck.

Hob's response is a sound that's all vowels, but he thinks he can't be blamed when Morpheus is tightening his hand and twisting his wrist in a way that's slowly driving him mad.

Hob takes Morpheus' face and brings it up to him, wishing once more to feel those soft lips against his own.

Their kiss is more gasping and panting than a proper kiss, but Hob is too far gone to care. He thrusts up desperately into the circle of Morpheus' hand, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart thundering in his chest.

Morpheus deepens the kiss and sucks on Hob's tongue at the same time as he twists his grip—

Lightning shoots up Hob’s spine and his vision goes white as he comes, shaking uncontrollably with his screams muffled against Morpheus' mouth.

Morpheus follows him a moment after with a strangled sob, thrusting and pressing Hob’s body repeatedly into the bed as he milks them both of every drop of spend.

They're both whimpering when Morpheus slows down his pace and stops entirely, collapsing on top of Hob.

Hob can barely feel his limbs but he manages to put a soothing hand on Morpheus' back, and they catch their breaths together as they feel each other’s heartbeats return to normal.

Somewhere outside the hotel, a clock strikes midnight, and the distant sound of Christmas songs can be heard.

“Merry Christmas,” Morpheus smiles and gives him a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” Hob whispers, still on this side of breathless.

Morpheus slides off him to lay on his side, and Hob immediately turns around and pulls him into an embrace, their noses almost touching.

“I never asked, what were your plans for Christmas Day?”

Morpheus hums and idly runs his fingers through Hob's chest hair. “Pretend to still have no phone signal so I can keep avoiding my parents. Though I shall send a text to my siblings to let them know I am safe.”

“Then… Then, if you'd like, you can come with me to brunch?” Hob asks hesitantly. “It's another yearly thing we do as a family, and you're welcome to join.”

Morpheus' eyes widen slightly, and Hob starts to panic.

“I know I said we'll still see where it goes, you and I, I mean. But it doesn't have to mean much, it's just brunch and I want you to have a happy Christmas too and—”

Morpheus stops him with a kiss, and Hob distantly thinks in the back of his mind that that's a dangerous way of spoiling him. He might never shut up if that's how Morpheus always quiets him.

“Hob,” Morpheus says softly when he pulls away. “I would very much like to spend Christmas with you and your family. Though I'd argue I'm already having a happy Christmas right now,” he smiles.

Hob chuckles in relief and presses closer to Morpheus, tucking his face in the crook of his neck. “Just you wait, we haven't even begun yet. I'd make you breakfast but there's nothing to cook here, so we'll just have to see what's in the café tomorrow before we leave.”

“Does that buttered croissant still have my name on it?” Morpheus asks as he caresses Hob’s back. “I'll have that for breakfast if it means I get to spend a few more hours cuddling you in this bed.”

Hob groans and pulls away to look at Morpheus. “You're actually driving me mad, you know that? You can't be gorgeous and sweet, it's not fair.”

“You are very much the same, yet you don't hear me complaining.”

Hob feels himself flush, and Morpheus smiles and snuggles into him, resting his head under Hob's chin.

Hob can’t help but smile as well, and he lets his eyes close as he feels the pleasant warmth of Morpheus' body against him.

Hob pulls the blanket over them both, and as they fall asleep in each other’s embrace, Hob thinks that he's already having a happy Christmas too.

———

Notes:

Hob's Baking Soda Bungle is based on that time my sister misread the baking soda measurement in the recipe. The cookies really did taste like chemicals 🥲

Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! <3

———

(2024 Sandman Connect4 Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[ralkana]

Fluffbruary Day 1

February 1: downy | clinic | nuance

Rated G

-----

In the Dreaming, in a chamber vast and austere, there is a bed fit for a monarch. Grand and dark, tall and canopied, the linens sleek and rich, finer than any cloth Hob has ever known. He has seen his love reclined on it like the king he is, wreathed in shadows, his skin pale and glowing like the purest moonlight, eyes shining with the birth of galaxies. Sharp hunger on his face as he reaches for Hob, demands the worship Hob so freely gives.

It's a good look. One of Hob's favorites.

It pales in comparison to the vision that greets him now.

His bed is small. Really too small for two, but any bigger wouldn't fit in his cozy little flat. The sheets are flannel, so faded that the pattern on them is indistinguishable, but they are warm. His pillows are mismatched: one stripey, one a cheery yellow.

In the middle of his bed, there is a lump of blankets, its occupant curled tightly and hidden from view. The only sign of life is a riot of dark hair, ink spilled over the sunshine of Hob's ancient pillowcase.

The lump shifts, and Hob grins from the doorway where he stands, watching.

"Hob," the heap of blankets says. "Come, beloved."

The words are muffled by the thick down of Hob's duvet and the softness of Hob's pillow, but it is unmistakably an order.

"You just want me for my body heat," Hob says, but he starts forward, toeing off his slippers.

There's a sound from the bed that is not exactly a denial, and Hob laughs even as he pulls his jumper over his head and tosses it toward the foot of the bed.

He climbs into bed, scooting under the blankets and grinning at the unhappy hiss Dream makes as a rush of cooler air sneaks in with Hob.

"Royal bedwarmer reporting for duty, my king," Hob says, gathering Dream into his arms, and it ends on a yelp as Dream's cool nose finds Hob's neck.

Dream smiles against Hob's skin and he presses a kiss to Dream's unruly locks and begins to plot his revenge.

"That strategy will not succeed," Dream says after a moment, and Hob sighs.

"That's cheating," he complains, resolving to think about it later. Right now, he has a king to warm up, and a proven strategy for that.

END

-----

This is the first thing I've written since Dec 2021. I did not realize it had been so long!

Thanks to @fluffbruary for giving me the inspiration to try again and to @ladytian and @lunaris1013 for being so enthusiastic about Dreamling that I couldn't help but jump in!

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Home

Hob gives the boys a living space. Edwin isn’t sure how to feel about this.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Ghost didn’t have homes.

At least, according to Edwin’s understanding they didn’t.

They had haunts, of course, and places their unsettled souls would return to, but they didn’t have homes.

Edwin wasn’t even entirely sure he remembered what a home truly was. He’d spent so long in hell in the same place over and over again, that when he left…he didn’t want to be stuck in the same place. Luckily for him, Charles was willing and enthusiastic to travel and explore.

It wasn’t until the ghostly duo met Hob Gadling that things slowly began to change.

It started with a small, friendly conversation, which grew into the boys coming around to the pub every night to talk and…well, relax. Which was something Edwin definitely wasn’t used to.

One day, Hob ushered them to the basement. He flicked on a light, and Edwin and Charles stared in shock.

It was a whole living space. There were tables and chairs and bookshelves, a couch and plush arm chairs on top of a large, ornate rug.

“It’s not much,” Hob said as he ran a hand through his hair, nervously. “But I didn’t like the idea of you boys not having a place of your own to be able to come back to.” He gave them a small smile. “Ghost or not, everyone needs a space of their own.”

Charles immediately took to their new surroundings, cheering as he claimed the worn couch that had been provided as his very own spot.

Edwin was more hesitant, his mind spiraling. He didn’t want to be locked and trapped to one place. Not again.

A heavy, yet gentle hand on his shoulder pulled him from his mind, and he turned to look at Hob, who was smiling softly at him. “I’m not trying to keep you here, Edwin. You’re free to come and go as you please. I just wanted you to have somewhere you could always come back to.”

Edwin stared a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Hob.”

Hob grinned, and gave his shoulder a small squeeze before he launched himself onto Charles, who screamed and laughed.

Edwin tried not to latch onto this place. He liked Hob, a lot, and Dream, but he was still wary.

He hadn’t really realized how much he’d become accustomed to their new place until a particular case kept them away for a week.

When they had finally returned, it was the dead of night. They slipped in through the walls and floorboards to their living space, in case Hob was asleep. It was hard to tell when Hob was awake or not. He always kept a lamp on in his flat regardless of the time of day and his sleeping patterns were…strange. Sometimes he was up all hours of the night, and sometimes he wouldn’t sleep for days until Dream came to scold him and make him sleep.

As they entered into the basement Charles let out a happy sigh and slumped onto the worn couch, stretching as he said, “God, it’s great to be home.”

Home.

Edwin paused and looked around the space.

The walls that had been once bare held a mosaic of art Edwin enjoyed as well as odd little knickknacks from Crystal and pictures torn out of magazines that Charles liked. There were plants that Crystal had been growing on the table along with random things Charles had picked up during their adventures. The bookshelves held a strange collection of books that ranged from poetry to history to occult tombs to manga Niko brought in case Edwin wanted to read them. By the door, leaning against the wall, rested Charles cricket bat as well as a coat rack that held ridiculous disguises Charles and Crystal would wear, swearing that they worked.

“Edwin? You ok?”

Edwin blinked, not realizing he was crying until warm tears ran down his face.

Home.

They had a home.

This wasn’t a prison, this wasn’t hell, this wasn’t the attic or the chest.

This was home. His home. His home with Charles and Hob and Dream.

He turned around immediately and went through the wall and up to Hob’s flat. He raised a fist to knock, then hesitated. If Hob was asleep, he certainly didn’t want to wake him, especially since Dream was so insistent that Hob actually sleep…but then again Hob always told them if they needed him, to please get him.

He took a deep breath and knocked. He was surprised to hear Hob say, muffled, “Come in, Edwin.”

Edwin passed through the door and saw Hob leaning over kitchen counter, with a mug in his hands, smiling.

“How…”

“You’d be surprised how the building sounds when you both pass through walls and doors. It’s like an exhale, as if the old place is at ease. Plus…” He grinned. “Dream and Charles don’t knock.” He waved at one of the stools at the counter. “Come, sit. Tell me where you two trouble-makers have been for the last week.”

Edwin smiled a little, settled on the stool, and began regaling to Hob their latest case.

As Edwin finished and Hob turned to fill his coffee again, the ghost boys said, softly, “Thank you, Hob.”

Hob stopped and turned back, tilting his head to one side in confusion. “For what?”

“For…for giving Charles and I place. A…a home.”

The immortal smiled wide and warm. “You don’t need to thank me. I was hoping it would eventually feel like a home to you boys.”

Edwin dropped his gaze to his entwined hands. “It’s been a long time…since a place felt like that. I…honestly thought I had forgotten what a home felt like entirely.”

That same heavy yet gentle hand that had been on his shoulder as reassurance weeks ago now placed itself over Edwin’s hands. He looked up into Hob’s gentle, unchanging face. “No matter how far you travel or how long you’re gone for…you will always have a home here, Edwin. I promise you that.”

Edwin’s smile trembled as his eyes filled with tears, but if Hob noticed he didn’t say. Instead, he gave the young ghost’s hands a small pat. “I’m sure Charles is feeling lonely. Should we continue this downstairs?”

Edwin blinked, slightly confused. “But…I have already told you about the case.”

“Yes, you did, but…” He winked at Edwin. “I always enjoy listening to Charles stretch the truth a little. Weave his tales.”

Edwin chuckled and stood up from where he was seated. As they moved towards Hob’s door, the immortal placed a hand on Edwin’s back.

“By the way, welcome back home, Edwin.”

Edwin smiled.

Yes.

Home.

—-•—-•—-•—-•—-

Im probably gonna post a few of these warm, sweet little headcanon ficlets.

Because I like them and they make me feel good.

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

[moorishflower]

Us and the Moon (Dream/Hob, werewolf AU, COMPLETE)

Us and the Moon || Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling || Chapters 4 of 7 || Explicit

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Werewolves, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus has PTSD, POV Hob Gadling, Story within a Story, Child Death, Minor Eleanor | Hob Gadling's Wife/Hob Gadling, PiningCanon-Typical Angst, Happy Ending, Historical References, Canon Retelling, Drowning, References to the Slave Trade, Confessions, Traumatized Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Scent Kink, Anal Fingering

Somehow, it always feels like Hob is meeting his oldest friend around the night of the full moon. It's been six centuries since Hob got the bite that turned him into a werewolf, and in all that time he's somehow managed to dance around telling Dream the truth. Tonight, though, he's determined to have out with it. The whole story, finally laid on the table…minus, of course, the part where he's been in love with Dream since at least the 1400s. No, that part can stay safely locked up for the rest of eternity as far as he's concerned. He's only just gotten Dream back into his life, and he doesn't dare ruin it any more than he already did in 1889. The werewolf thing, though, that's easy.

Read it on AO3 here! Currently chapters 1 and 2 are up

Thanks to the mods at @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang for all their hard work, my awesome artist @wolfgirl-valentine, and @dsudis for the beta! Please go check out the art by Wolffie, it's AMAZING and beautiful and so much effort went into each piece <3

[just-french-me-up]

IN THE DARK

Fandom: The Sandman Ship: Dreamling Rating: E | 2k | Read on AO3 Tags: Smut & Angst; Post 1889 Meeting; Porn with a Hint of Plot Mixed In; Smut in the Dark; Dream Can't Use His Words for Shit; Angsty Ending

The whole evening was a blur. A succession of steps, one in front of the other, fueled by anger at first, exasperation even, that quickly soured into gut-wrenching sorrow. Most of the fuel after that had been liquor. Hob could not even remember where he'd ended up. Not the White Horse, surely. That would have been too painful. Too fresh. At least he'd managed to secure a bed with fresh enough linens and privacy, which was not-half bad, considering his state. The room lacked windows, but it was all the same to him. Wrestling with your thoughts hardly required lighting.

The whole evening was a blur. No. Not all of it.

Not the part that kept haunting him. The cold stare glaring at him with indignation. The smile that turned to a hard line once he'd dared suggest the possibility of friendship. The striding steps, eager to distance him from that very notion. It all whirled inside Hob's mind, as vivid as when he'd seen them. Fucking idiot. He should have played his cards better. Their 1789 meeting had left him too comfortable, too bold. Wanting, also. He could have sworn...

Hob tossed around in bed, unable to fall asleep, replayed the scene again and again, what he could have done differently, said differently. Would his Stranger have stayed, then? Would they have parted as friends, in anything but name, the nature of their relationship hanging in the air, an ever-growing question mark never to be answered?

The candles had long burnt out, leaving him in the dark, his musings for only company. Hob imagined himself still at the inn, in centennial company. That was two meetings cut short. Perhaps next time... Would there be a next time? He'd had to run his mouth, daring his Stranger into admitting their friendship. What if he did not show, a hundred years from now? What if he sat at their table in 1989 and no one came? The loneliness of it made him ache. No... Surely, he would not...

The floorboards of the room creaked, making Hob start, his eyes flying open. No one had opened the door, of that he was certain. There was nothing to see, yet he stared into the darkness, not so much afraid than expectant. He had lived long enough to know he was the only ghost roaming this earth.

Something pressed into the mattress, digging a slight dent into it. A hand. A knee, perhaps. Hob swallowed. He could have sworn there was a dim glint shining in the darkness, like an eye blinking as something shifted on the mattress. Deep and ruby-red.

It occurred to him he ought to scream, call for help, anything, yet Hob could not bring himself to. The tension in his muscles lacked the crisp grip of fear. It was something different. Something more all-encompassing still. Something eager, deep inside of him.

Legs, for they were irrefutably legs, straddled his, trapping him under the covers. The raspy whistle of his own breathing filled his ears, making him deaf to anything else. Something wet seeped through the linen covering him, dampening the sheets. As the invisible form leant forward, Hob felt drops falling on his chest. On his neck. Rain. Or rather the aftermath of it. One does tend to get soaked, making a dramatic exit under the usual London drizzle.

Hob's clothes had long been peeled off, discarded, abandoned in a careless heap on the floor. Now the sheets stuck to his skin like a sheen, sole barrier between him and the darkness. He could feel his heartbeat reverberate through the fabric as a warm breath tickled his lips. He swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say, something clever, something funny, but words eluded him. Words had brought him nothing but trouble that night, truth be told. Better not fuck things up further. Whatever quip he would have come up with hardly mattered, in the end. Hob couldn't have delivered it anyway. Not with the lips suddenly pressed against his own.

It was the furthest thing from tender. It was rushed, demanding, tasting of latent anger and frustration, almost pining him to the mattress. The initial shock barely lasted a second before Hob answered in kind, his body coming alive under the sheets. He reached in the darkness, his hands landing on wet clothes, wet hair, gliding, slipping, holding onto anything available with a primal urge. It would not have looked pretty under any light. A good thing that was not a concern.

Eventually, his fingers hooked around a delicate chain, his fingertips following it to the familiar emerald shape weighing at the end of it. It would have shone from a deep red by the candlelight, Hob knew it. He could picture it in his head, the same way he could picture his Stranger over him, his brow infinitely serious as his teeth grazed his lower lip. Hob's thumb brushed the side of the ruby, and he felt the body over his shiver, almost as an echo.

His Stranger pulled back sharply.

You dare, Hob could read in the silence, although neither spoke a word. All he could hear was the Stranger catching his breath, bursts of air coming in and out in a captivating rhythm. He'd gone too far again. Pushed past what he was allowed. The Stranger would storm out any second now, disappear into the very fabric of the night, the same way he'd gotten in.

The air was knocked out of his lungs as a hand closed around his wrist, pining it to the mattress. The pressure against his thighs and his groin increased at his Stranger leant forward once more, as though to face him. Hob imagined him stern, his lips thinned with disapproval, eyebrows drawn into a frown. He could not say he disliked it. Some attention was better than none.

The Stranger shifted once more, his body brushing against the outline of Hob's cock through the sheets. An accident, no doubt. An unfortunate consequence of the position he'd chosen. Hob doubted his Stranger had even noticed. Except it happened again. And again. And again, maddeningly slow, hindered by superfluous layers, leaving Hob achingly hard and frustrated. Wanting. Yet he could not bring himself to move. What if his Stranger left again? What if he stopped? He wasn't sure he could bear him stopping, no matter how frustrating his current ministrations were. The grip around his wrist tightened, sending a twitch through his cock. God's wounds, surely his Stranger could feel how hard he was. Hob bit back a strangled sigh, a plea for more at the back of this throat. No. He would not ask. He would not risk breaking the delicate spell that bound them to this moment with another ill-chosen word.

Something cold rolled against his lips. Another drop of rain, Hob through, but it bore more weight, felt more solid. He could feel the ruby's elegant edges against his mouth, hanging close, taunting him. There was another roll of his Stranger's hips, and Hob instinctively closed his lips around one of the curved angles. A low groan answered instantly, sending alarms through him. Hob waited a second. Then two. His Stranger did not pull back. If anything, he leant closer, offering more of the ruby as his hips kept rubbing against Hob's cock. No words needed. Hob ran his tongue across one of the facets, delighting in the lewd sound that earned him. He'd always suspected his Stranger was not made of stone, in spite of the latter best efforts to prove him otherwise. How much more could he get out of him before he'd be rejected as too familiar? Too bold? A flick of his tongue seemed acceptable enough, judging by the Stranger's loud approval.

Soon, toying with the gem got insufficient. Hob could feel it in the hand holding his wrist, in the slight wheeze in his Stranger's laboured breathing. The sheets were yanked off him, somehow. Where he could have sworn his Stranger wore clothes, his touch only met skin. Cold, still-lightly-damp-from-the-rain skin. His was scorchingly hot, clashing at the junction in a tantalising way. He could now feel the weight of his Stranger's cock against his own, heat flaring through him at the realisation. He would have given everything he owned to see them now, flesh against flesh, seeking pleasure in friction, his Stranger's body aflame.

The exhilarating grip around his wrist did not loosen, but Hob suddenly remembered he had another hand he could use freely. Instinctively, he wrapped it as best he could around both of their cocks, stroking down. Over him, his Stranger gave an approving moan, his hips rolling in tandem with his touch. Hob's tongue twirled around the ruby again, hot breath blowing against the gem, sending both him and the Stranger into a frenzy. He was hardly more than his hand, his cock, his lips, his burning skin in that moment. The rest of him was secondary. He was barely aware of the Stranger's hand bracing against his chest, nails almost digging into his flesh in a delicious bite. What he felt, however, were the fascinating spasms jolting through his companion, tension mounting, mounting, until his body gave, warmth spilling across Hob's stomach. Overwhelmed, Hob followed with a hoarse shout, stroking them until the last spark of pleasure had left him.

The rest was a blur. Yet another. A blur caught between wakefulness and the drowsy glow of pleasure. Hob remembered the content feeling as he lay against the mattress, still warm from exertion. He closed his eyes for a second, expecting his Stranger to join him, to take place against him in a bed that fit only one. He must have fallen asleep, for when he awoke, daylight flooded the room.

--

He was alone, that morning, the sheets neatly drawn over his body. As he looked around, Hob saw no evidence of a visitor, either in the room itself, or on his own body. The taste of the ruby still lingered in his mouth, but there was little proof he had actually touched it, or anyone, for that matter.

A dream, he thought mournfully. Wishful thinking.

He'd have a hundred years to mull it over. It wouldn't be the first time he'd thought of his Stranger that way. This was only the most vivid imagining from a centuries long string of them.

As he dressed in damp clothes, Hob didn't notice the half-moon shapes dug into his chest. They were barely a hint, a dent, his immortal body resorbing them the same way it would resorb any wound, from the lethal to the benign. They would not leave a single mark in an hour's time. A clean slate.

The mind hardly healed the same. It clung to the memory of it, flashes, sensations echoing through him as he looked around the room once more before closing the door behind him. An itch to scratch for the century to come.

Next time I see him, Hob thought to himself, I'll know. In 1989, I'll know.

--

His whisky had warmed in its glass a long time ago.

It was past midnight. Most of the patrons had found their way out of the White Horse, perhaps heading to the latest trendy club to spend the remainder of the night. Not Hob. Stubborn, he refused to leave, leaning against the bar, his gaze set on the entrance door. He'd started jittering about an hour ago, the realisation slowly sinking in.

Perhaps it had all been a dream, after all. The sensations still haunted him, a hundred years to the day. Come on... Show yourself...

"You waiting for someone?"

"I think I've been stood up."

[wolfgirl-valentine]

My final piece for @moorishflower gorgeous story "Us and the moon!!!! I'm sure you all would love it as much as I did 🙏🏼✨ It was an honor and a delight to paint this scenes. This was my first big bang and it was a lot of fun(and anxiety sjsjsj) thanks to everyone involved in this amazing experience, specially to Moorishflower for their wonderful narrative that was a great inspiration 🙏🏼✨

This one's quote is going to be under a cut, because it's the final part and doesn't feel right to be read for the first time this way 😅

"Just us, Dream echoes, quietly delighted, and then takes off running into the dreaming night with Hob yipping at his heels."

"And in London, in the Waking, in a cosy flat miles and centuries away from a shadowed clearing where a seven year-old boy made a deal he did not understand with a little god that he would eventually outlive, two wolves – one dark as night, one burnished bronze and tawny-gold as dawn – lie curled nose-tip to tail-tip in a nest of blankets. Fast asleep, and dreaming of the moon."

[maccca-chino]

For @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang , I've had the absolute pleasure of illustrating for @arialerendeair 's fic "Well, That's Curious" and here are the pieces I did!

Read the fic here ! I love this story so, so freaking much and I'm so excited for everyone that gets to also read it now!!

Before this, I hadn't participated in a big bang for around 10 years, so I was kinda nervous to join, but it's been so much fun and I've had a great time working on these! :)

Big thank you and much love to the mods for organizing the event too!

[arialerendeair]

Well, That's Curious

A fic for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!!!

I had the pleasure of working with the most AMAZING artist, @maccca-chino, whose blog you should go check out and follow immediately!!!

LINK TO THE UTTERLY BRILLIANT ART LOOK AT IT, AHHHH!!

Pairing: Dream/Hob

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 38,800

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence , Happy Ending, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless, Orange Tabby Cat Hob Gadling, Depressed Dream of the Endless, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Supportive Hob Gadling, Protective Hob Gadling, BAMF Hob Gadling, Brief Suicidal Ideation, NO ONE DIES THOUGH I PROMISE, Getting Together, Falling in Love, Delirium and Death are tied for best sibling, King of Cats Dream of the Endless, Kitty Cat Cuddle Piles, Hob is an orange tabby and no one will ever convince me different, One more tag to be added when we get there - but it's a surprise!

Read on Ao3

Summary: Hob was not a list person.

But when he found himself in a situation he didn’t understand, the first thing he did was attempt to make a list of things he knew.

One.  He was dreaming.  Sort of. Two.  He was a cat.

This was going to be a very long day.

Full Fic Below the Cut

Hob was not a list person.

He never had been, never would be.

Now Eleanor?  She was a list person.  She loved her lists.  And crossing items off lists. At the very least, she (and later Robyn), had taught him the value of a proper list when all else seemed lost.

Which was why, when Hob found himself in a situation he didn’t understand, the first thing he did was attempt to make a list of things he knew.

One.  He was dreaming.

How he knew that, he had no idea, but he was certain of that in the way he knew intrinsic truths of himself. He was in a dream, of some sort, which perhaps made the rest of things make sense without needing to rely on particular logical reasoning.

Two.  He was a cat.

Why he was a cat, he had no idea.  But he was.  An orange tabby, if he wasn’t mistaken.  But he was, and he didn’t feel like a human, but like a cat, ready to pounce on anything that captured or drew his interest.

Three.  Something was very wrong with where he was.

The air around where he was sitting was still, almost stifling in the stillness. It didn’t feel right, and every inhale (and oh breathing was strange with all his senses dialed up as they were) seemed to be forced.  As though it wasn’t necessary, and as though the air wasn’t quite air yet.  The sense of wrongness only grew stronger the more he tried to focus on it, his tail flicking impatiently.

Four.  He was waiting for someone.  Someone who needed him.

The last thing he remembered before he was a cat, was being told by a voice that echoed and rang that he was needed.  That someone needed him and couldn’t admit it, and he could help in a way no one else could.  And if there was one thing Hob was very good at (even as a cat), it was going to be helping whoever it was that he was waiting for.

(He did suspect it was their throne he was sitting on, but that would be something for him to figure out later, whenever they appeared.)

Five.  Hob was no longer entirely, completely human.

This was one of the more perplexing items on his mental list, but it was true.  There was something in the back of his mind now that told him this was the truth.  But what he was, especially now that he was a cat, he did not know.  He simply was.  What he was, if it was a what, he didn’t know.  But he was.

Lastly?  He was stuck.

There was nothing to be done for it at present.  He had tried a variety of things, of methods, and had not been able to change back.  (He had, at least, tested his reflexes rather thoroughly and was glad that they seemed to be as enhanced as a cat's would.)  He was stuck here, waiting for someone, waiting to see what would happen next, so he could begin to... do whatever he needed to.  Help.  Someone.  Whoever it was. 

"Who might you be?"

Hob's attention immediately focused on the woman standing in front of him, who was holding a book and watching him curiously.  She didn't seem angry, or upset, mostly confused and curious as to his presence.  Where he was, precisely, would have been useful in determining what had happened to him and why.  Perhaps it would have let him start sorting all of this mess.  Instead, he gave her his best impression of a shrug. 

She raised both of her eyebrows.  "I can understand you perfectly well if you speak." 

Hob considered that for a moment, wondering if he would speak with his normal voice, the voice of a cat, or something else.  He swished his tail against the marble of the throne and listed his head to look at her properly.  "Can you?"  There was an echoing meow behind the words, clearly what the vocalization sounded like, but she nodded once more.  He relaxed and rolled over onto his belly, stretching out with a pleased purr as the cool stone pressed to the soft skin there.  "Where am I?"

"You are in the Dreaming.  How did you come to be here?"  She reached out to touch a fingertip to his tail.  He flicked it at her with a frown.  "Where did you come from?"

Hob shrugged again.  "I have no idea.  I was told I needed to be here, so I am.  Everything is different, and I am a cat." 

"You are..." 

She stroked a fingertip along his spine and Hob had to find a shiver of something, power, or magic, touching him at the same time and narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn't seem to want to do anything else beyond that singular touch.  There was something clearly confused on her face now and she was watching him with narrowed eyes as he didn't bother to try to finish the sentence for her. 

"Not a Dream.  Nor a Nightmare.  Where might you have come from, to contain power like that?" she asked.  "Strange that my lord would not have warned me of your coming."  She looked pointedly down at the chair.  "Or that you would be quite so forward as to sit on his throne." 

"It's comfy," Hob pointed out, his eyes drifting shut as he let out a breath.  Whatever lord that he had taken the seat of would survive, he was a cat after all.  "It's not as though he is using it at the moment."  He licked his lips and considered as he stared at his paws and dragged his tongue along one.  "Will he be back soon?  Maybe he knows what I am supposed to do and who I am supposed to help." 

She pressed her lips together and frowned down at him.  "You are supposed to help?"

"Yes," Hob answered, and the firmness in his own voice surprised him a fraction.  "I do not know with what, but I will be able to help."  He pushed himself up to his feet and stretched, before curling up on the throne once more.  "If you do not know when he will be back, it seems that the best thing for me to do will be to wait for him here."

"What are you?"

Hob gave a loud meow and stared at her for several long moments.  The question rankled.  There was an obvious answer (a cat), a less than obvious answer (a human, turned into a cat) and the truth, which was that he was... something else all together, now, that he didn't completely understand.  He wanted to know, and he wanted to answer truthfully, but since he couldn't, he shrugged and curled up on the marble once more.  He could wait for whoever it was.  He had time, and though his Stranger (Dream, he knew a name now) had promised to visit him sometime soon, he had a feeling that he would know if he was being looked for. 

(He added that to the list.  It was a strange thing to be certain that he would KNOW.)

"Do not be surprised if you are removed when my lord returns," she said, turning on her heel to descend the stairs, leaving a book on the arm of the throne. 

Hob lifted his head to stare at the spine of the book curiously, the writing in a language he did not recognize.  Interesting, that this lord would be reading a book, and would have a woman bringing him a book who felt comfortable quizzing him in such a fashion.  Who was this lord? 

He'd find out soon enough, he was sure.

~!~

Their conversation had been beyond any expectation Hob ever could have had of his friend returning.  It had been hard to keep the smile off his face as they had begun talking, and this time, his friend did not simply listen, but offered quiet commentary, and it had his heart singing with joy the entire time, even as the evening passed and closing time rapidly approached.  He was sad for it to end, but he had decades worth of those quick and secret smiles to store under his ribs and hoard them like the thief he no longer tried to be. 

He finished off the last of his beer and raised the empty glass to his Stranger.  No name had been forthcoming, but where before it had felt like an imposition to ask, now, it almost felt as though it were a game that they were playing together.  "So, will it be back to the usual '89 rhythm?" he asked, his voice soft, smiling sadly.  "I'd like that, if possible.  But I don't know what requirements you have on our arrangement, Stranger." 

His Stranger had paused, his fingertips resting against the stem of his wineglass as he studied the liquid in it without partaking.  He'd maybe taken two sips that Hob had seen all evening.  Maybe he would garner up the courage to ask if he could order something his Stranger actually liked at their next meeting, no matter when it was. 

"I would not impose on your life, and how you spend it, Hob Gadling." 

Hob's eyes sharpened to his Stranger, the tentativeness with which he said those words, because they seemed to be leading somewhere.  He tilted his head and offered a quiet hum of consideration.  "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice soft. 

His Stranger's eyes had flicked up, and the bottomless blue had shone with the light of thousands of stars for the briefest of seconds, making his breath catch, before they had faded back into the normal eyes of a man he knew. 

"Only that it has been... recommended to me, that friends me more often than once a century.  However, if that is the arrangement you wish to keep to, I will not-"

Hob's heart leaped into his throat and he reached out to touch his Stranger's hand, pressing his fingertips to that pale wrist, halting him.  "Friends do meet more than once a century," he agreed, hoping that he did not sound as desperate as he had felt at the moment.  He managed a broader grin.  "My friend, I will meet with you as often as you could possibly make time for me, and find nothing but joy in it.  There is little that could make me happier, I suspect, than the chance to meet with you more regularly, as long as it places no undue weight on you." 

The smile Hob got in return, small and tentative, but shining with emotion had Hob's heart jumping out of his chest to land in the palms of his Stranger without hesitation.  He kept up the eye contact that seemed to linger for several extended seconds before his friend nodded once more.  

"It would please me to meet more often, Hob.  How often would you recommend?"  He paused, before continuing.  "I have not found myself in the possession of a friend before, and would seek your lead in this matter." 

Hob wanted to wrap his friend up in his arms, hug him tight, and probably never let him go.  If those words were not the most heartbreaking thing he had ever heard in his life, he did not know what were.  He managed a smile and another tap of his fingertips against his friend's wrist.  "Least once a year, I would say.  I'd like to meet more often, of course.  Maybe once a month, or once every couple of months?  I don't know what your schedule looks like, my friend, I do not want to impose." 

His friend had pursed his lips and considered before answering and Hob had never wanted to kiss someone more than he did his friend in that moment, to smooth away the considering confusion that was on his face.  He looked grave and serious, but open to the suggestion, which was more than Hob had ever expected of him. 

"Time is rarely linear for me in such a fashion.  However, I can ensure that I do visit you at least once a year, and shall endeavor to visit more often than that." 

Hob nodded rapidly, unable to keep the grin that grew on his face.  "My friend, nothing makes me happier.  I would love to see you sometime in the next year.  Even if it's tomorrow, next week, next month, you are always welcome where I am, and I will welcome you with open arms."  That gained him a piercing look, considering and heavy, and Hob felt a shiver run up his spine at the sheer weight of that look being leveled at him in such a way.  He offered a small shrug but waited for the judgment of such a declaration. 

"You are a good friend, Hob Gadling.  Perhaps far better than I deserve.  I thank you for your willingness to teach me how to be a better one." 

Hob beamed, still grinning.  "I think you are a brilliant friend, for the record.  And I will be very excited to tell you as many stories as you like when you return."  He lit up with excitement.  "Perhaps we can even explore other places outside the pub."  He caught the pointed nod from his staff member and stood up, glad when his friend followed the same cue and they began to make their way to the door.  "If you want to, of course.  We don't have to do anything you don't want!"

His friend paused in consideration once more before he nodded.  "I would like that." 

"Great, amazing," Hob breathed out, nodding eagerly as he brought them to the door and opened it for his friend, stepping out into the cool air, before turning to look at his friend with a rueful grin.  "I guess that this is where we say goodbye for the evening?" 

His friend nodded and Hob once more felt himself utterly pinned into place by those eyes and that gaze, making him gasp and squirm under it, even though he was far too old for that sort of reaction, to say the least. 

"Thank you, for your company, and your friendship, Hob Gadling." 

Hob would never, ever get tired of hearing his stranger say his name, or calling him his friend, especially with the small smile that was on his face.  It felt like something that was made just for him, something that was his, alone.  Something that he would always be more than a little weak for, so he swallowed, and nodded.  "Of course, stranger, any time.  As often as you like." 

His Stranger nodded once more and turned to leave, but Hob tensed when he paused and turned back to look at him. 

His Stranger smiled faintly.  "My name, Hob, is Dream."  He inclined his head.  "I will see you soon."

Hob wanted to cry as he watched his stranger, Dream, his name was Dream, oh he would never forget this moment, for the rest of his life, no matter how long it was, not ever, not after this, stepped into the shadows and disappeared.  He leaned against the New Inn and breathed deep, lifting his eyes to look at the stars.  How had he gotten so lucky?  Not only had his friend returned, he'd been granted a name, and his friendship, it seemed like they would be meeting far more often than he ever imagined possible.  It was everything he ever could have wanted, handed to him on a silver platter. 

If only he could have seen what the future would hold on June 7th in 1989. 

~!~

"Who are you?"

Hob blinked himself awake, slow and lazy, yawning wide as he stretched out on the cool marble that still felt magnificent on his belly and lifted his head just a fraction to look at who had spoke.  He opened one eye properly and looked up at the towering figure.  The sight of his Stranger, of Dream, had him scrambling to his feet and he sat down, his tail curled around his paws and looked up at the truly incredible sight of Dream.  How had this happened?  What was his friend doing here? 

If he told his friend who he was, would he be made to leave?  He had been sitting on the throne of a supposed lord, after all.  Perhaps it would be for the best to see if his friend recognized him, and if he did not, pretend ignorance.  He yawned again and made a small noise.  "I'm here to help someone.  I woke up here, like this.  Was told I would need to help them." 

Dream blinked at him in clear confusion, and Hob stared right back at him, unwilling to break his eye contact or risk being banished by the figure in front of him.  He would stand his ground, and maybe he was right.  Maybe Dream could tell him who he needed to help. 

"You are not going to help them by sitting on my throne," Dream answered, eventually.  "Remove yourself, if you please." 

Hob heard the not-request for what it was and surveyed his options for a few seconds before jumping up onto the arm of the throne, sitting down on it easily.  He continued to stare at his friend and preened when that particular action got him a smile that seemed to come much more readily to his lips here, wherever here was.  His friend sat down beside him, and then there were long fingers sinking into his fur, petting him slow and easy.  It was impossible to keep the purr in his throat, and he tipped himself into the touch with a pleased sound.  

Dream continued to pet him, and Hob felt everything around him go more than a little hazy, but he was warm and cradled by comfortable shadows and when Hob blinked to proper attention again, he realized that he was exactly where he'd wanted to be.  On Dream's lap, sprawled out with long fingers buried in his fur, petting him idly.  He let out a happy sigh and settled properly, glad when Dream resumed his petting after a few minutes.  Beyond him, there was a conversation that Dream was clearly having, one that he should have been listening to, perhaps, but it was entirely superseded by the feeling of Dream continuing to pet him. 

That confirmed it then.  Dream did not recognize him, not by voice, and not by virtue of being able to read his mind, which meant that he got to see Dream around other people and compare notes at a later date.  For the moment though, his friend seemed content to read the book in his lap, pages turning at a steady rate as he worked through whatever book that Hob hadn't  been able to read the title of.  Eventually though, there was a more pointed scratch of his ears, and with a noise, Hob brought his attention to his friend and blinked slowly at him.  If there was something that he wanted, Hob would do his best to fulfill.

"I have work to attend to, as much as I would enjoy passing more time here," Dream told the cat that was not a dream, not a nightmare, and not of his realm at all.  It seemed harmless, and even Lucienne had said she had seen it do nothing more than nap against his throne for the hours that he had been here.  "But I thank you for the pleasure of your company." 

Hob stretched and hopped down off of Dream's lap, his tail swishing as he stretched again and watched the sand begin to swirl around his friend.  The other-ness in the back of his mind began to clamor, and before the sand dissipated, Hob had followed his friend out of the wild rush of sand and onto a patch of green grass that extended behind them and a series of hills that seemed crumpled in on itself.  It looked like the land had been eaten by a whirlpool of some sort, and Hob could feel the ache of the land beneath his paws.  With a noise, he made his way forward toward the bits that he could see. 

Dream watched, curious, as the cat that had somehow followed him to the parts of the Dreaming that had been devastated by the vortex, trotted off and into the areas where his realm was still aching.  He could barely feel the brush of it, even as it explored the devastation.  He had been fixing the areas, one at a time, one after another, until he came to the worst of it, which was always exhausting to repair, but repair it must be.  "You will need to move," he called to the cat, who seemed determined to be in the way, still walking around the edge of the grass that was pulled into a black hole of sorts.  "I need to-"

He paused and tilted his head, because the cat was looking down the hole and didn't seem to show any fear of what was in front of it.  In fact, with an easy leap, it was standing in mind air above the ground that was twisted and curled in on itself.  The cat seemed to turn to look at him proudly, now out of his way, and settled on the invisible platform it had been able to create in the Dreaming, somehow.  Whatever it was, the Dreaming did not consider it a threat, and that, at least, was reassuring.  He had harmed more than enough people and creatures since his return, knowing that he could not easily hurt this one was a relief. 

Dream took a deep breath and reached out for the threads of the Dreaming around him, the ones that had been ripped and torn apart by Rose.  Not intentionally, but by virtue of what she simply was and began to weave them back together.  It was painstaking, exhausting work, repairing and weaving all at once, but he was well aware that if he did not do it together, he would be in a situation where he would need to rip it apart to repair it regardless.  Though he had more power than he had had in longer than he could remember, wielding it with this level of finesse and care was not a thing he had ever thought to practice over the years. 

A delicate bit of weaving pulled his distraction enough to have him dropping threads, and he cursed, about to drop it all and undo it to begin again, when he found that nothing had come unwoven.  The threads were still held, almost precisely in place where they had needed to be. 

Dream pulled his awareness back to the Dreaming around him and saw the cat, standing exactly where Dream had last seen him, save that he was standing now, and shining in his mouth, held taut, were the strands that he had lost his strength on for a moment.  The kitten was staring at him proudly as it continued to hold the threads still for him.  He managed to finish up the rest of what he had been doing and picked up the strands from the kitten and finished the weave and the remains of the repair, until it was at last as it should have been.  Freshly woven and raw dreamstuff for him to mold as he saw fit. 

A meow had him pulling his attention down to the cat who was sitting in front of him, his head tilted up as though he was proud of himself and Dream could not help the smile that curled over his lips.  In an instant, it was easy to slip into another form, a cat, much larger than the one standing in the grass, walking once, then twice, around the cat who had a strange amount of control in his realm. 

"You are magnificent." 

Dream blinked and found himself sitting in front of the orange tabby, studying him curiously, curling his tail around his feet.  "Thank you, for your compliment.  And for your assistance."  He inclined his head briefly and turned to walk away and deeper into the Dreaming, moving through it as easily as he ever had, reacquainting it with himself in this form.  Strangely, the orange tabby was able to follow in his footsteps, almost as though he could see the paths that Dream himself was walking, as he led the way deeper and deeper in, higher and higher up. 

However, as before, the cat behind him, did nothing more than observe and look at everything around him, seemingly curious with everything around him, eager to explore and see what there was to see.  It was strange, even as he felt the presence of Matthew join him, more than once, the other cat seemed entirely unbothered by the presence of his raven.  Matthew, in turn, after giving the cat what could only be considered a glare on any other animal, had congratulated on him finding a friend, before he'd headed back to the castle at Dream's bidding. 

A friend. 

Dream thought of Hob Gadling, living his life in the waking world, enjoying his teaching, his classes, while he worked to repair and organize the Dreaming.  The work ahead of him was extensive, but it had already begun, and with Gault's remaking, more of his creations had come forward, speaking to him for perhaps the first time in their existence.  They had so long been afraid to approach and discuss anything with him before, now it was as though floodgates had opened, and now none of them feared speaking with him as they had in the past.  It would take time, and a great deal of effort, as Lucienne had often reminded him, to rebuild what had been broken, and a great many of his dreams and nightmares were not the same. 

But the Dreaming was better for it. 

And whoever this creature was, it clearly (for now) did not mean him any harm, and did not appear to want to get in his way as he went about his duties, so Dream saw no need to be concerned about such a presence.  At least for the time being. 

Hob was in bliss, staring at the scenery around him.  The spot they had stopped was a grassy meadow, and after pouncing on two different flowers (and feeling the rumble of what felt like the field itself below him in amusement), Hob had stretched out to sun himself until Dream had decided he needed to move to another area of the kingdom.  Instead, he'd talked to a raven that had been larger than him (even with how big he was in cat form) and Hob had watched them curiously as the raven was dismissed and sent back to the castle, before Dream was turning back to him.  He gave a blissful wave of a paw and watched his friend come closer.

"You look comfortable."

Hob wanted to laugh and he rolled in the grass, scratching at his back, before he flopped in a direction that had him facing his friend. He yawned, showing his teeth, before he nodded once. "I am very comfortable. Have you ever laid out in the sun here? There are few things better than lying out in the sun to relax and simply enjoy yourself."

Dream sat down next to the orange tabby and turned to look up at the sun.  "It does not affect me in such a way." 

"Bet that it could if you let it!" Hob challenged, shifting to expose his belly, letting out a purr at how good it felt.  "Give it a try.  Promise I won't tell a soul.  You can go back to being the King of Cats after!''

Dream blinked and opened his mouth to ask how the orange tabby had discovered his title when it was clear that he was barely being teased.  By a cat that he did not understand, that did not belong in the Dreaming, who was not a Dreamer either, something fascinatingly in between that seemed determined to accompany him.  "Why should I?"

"Because it is fun, life is short, and sometimes when everything else is a mess, taking a small pleasure for yourself means everything," Hob challenged, reaching out to press a paw to Dream's shoulder, applying enough pressure to tip him over until he was lying in the grass as well.  "You have been working hard.  Take a few moments to yourself to breathe and to relax.  It is good for you." 

"Good for me," Dream repeated, curious.  He twisted his body a fraction, so he was mimicking the pose of the other cat and waited for whatever was supposed to happen.  After a few seconds, the warmth of the sun above him shone brighter, encouraged by its lord.  He closed his eyes and heard the purr of satisfaction from beside him, and waited.  

He felt it on his paws first, and flexed them, spreading his toes wide, warm tingling enough to have a pleased rumble escaping him.  And after, the warmth seemed to creep over him in low waves, almost as though a blanket were being pulled over him.  Wave after wave of steady comfort, all of it curling around him in an endless supply of warmth.  A much louder purr rumbled from his throat and he tipped his head back, trying to expose as much of himself to the heat as was possible.  

Hob had no idea when his friend had last let himself relax, properly, had really indulged in something that was only for his happiness and comfort, and not a part of his work, or his duty.  But him doing that right this moment was... giving him all sorts of fuzzy feelings he knew well enough to keep to himself.  Dream couldn't be bothered with those, and that would be for the best.   But seeing his friend relax, his body going slack as he enjoyed the sunlight, and clearly, by the sound of his purring, it was better than he expected. 

Hob allowed himself to squeeze a fraction closer, until his paws were brushing against long strands of dark fur pillowed in the grass of the field they sat in.  From there, there was nothing but soaking up the sun, constantly.  It was rather perfect, a dream that he never wanted to end. 

--

Dream came back into awareness to a flutter of familiar feathers.  Matthew.  

He sat up properly and turned to his raven, already missing the relaxation that the orange tabby was still enjoying, but it was clear that Matthew had come bearing a message.  "Is all well, Matthew?"

"Nothing is wrong, boss!  Lucienne wanted me to let you know that responses to your allies are coming in, or flooding in, I think, were the words she used."  Matthew flapped his wings and looked over Dream's shoulder and lowered his voice.  "She has no idea who your uh.  Guest, is, though." 

Dream made a quiet humming sound, low in his throat and met the eyes of the orange tabby who had sat up and was now watching them both.  "He is a guest, and that is enough," he announced, stretching his claws in the soft dirt of Fiddler's Green.  "I will return soon.  Does she need assistance-"

"Oh, no, keep enjoying yourself.  I think she's liking the response that the Dreaming is getting, and she wanted to, you know.  Pass on good news.  Nothing needed, you can keep doing your relaxation routine, or tour, or whatever you have going on here," Matthew said, hopping twice in the grass.  "She also said that you could bring him to tour the library, as an option.  That he might enjoy it." 

Dream nodded once, and watched as Matthew took off and into the sky, heading for the castle, likely to tell Lucienne that he had been found in cat form, sunning himself in Fiddler's Green.  It was disgraceful, he had so much work to do, to finish, but taking a break was also something that Lucienne had been insistent on him needing.  He turned back to the orange tabby who was watching him, and sat down in front of him, and waited, but the cat seemed to content to wait for him to say something, or to make the first move. 

"Who are you?" Dream repeated, narrowing his eyes at the orange tabby.  "Why have you come to the Dreaming?"

"The Dreaming," Hob repeated, his voice soft and awed.  "I was brought here.  And I... am not sure.  Who I am."  The words made him squirm, because telling Dream that he was Hob would have been only partially correct.  He was stuck, trapped in this form, and he knew that he was not only human anymore.  To say it was him would be lying, but nor did this feel entirely accurate.  "I know some things.  But I also know I am stuck.  And I am meant to help someone.  I was hoping that you could tell me who I was meant to help." 

Dream tilted his head, but even with the power of the Dreaming surrounding the cat in front of him, it revealed no additional answers.  There was Endless magic sunk into him, perhaps deeper than it should have been for a normal cat, but the only touch that he could feel upon the cat was his own, and the faintest touches of his siblings.  When the orange tabby stepped closer, and leaned in, nuzzling up against him, he flinched back, hissing.  "I did not give you permission to touch me!"

Hob sat down in front of his friend, watching him with careful eyes.  "So you did not," he agreed.  "I am sorry." 

Dream found himself mollified by the immediate apology and flexed his claws in the ground, leaning against the Dreaming again.  It had... had felt good.  Almost the same as the sunlight soaking into him.  He had not touched anyone else since he had stepped into the Dreaming, save Lucienne's hand, and the briefest of touches of Hob Gadling's fingers to his hand.  "What possessed you to do such a thing?"

"You looked like you could use a hug," Hob said.  He would never have dared to be so forward with Dream as a human, but like this, it was easier to be honest, to say what he thought was the truth.  If Dream tried to leave with his magic, he could simply follow.

Dream blinked at the tabby and tilted his head, confused.  It was not possible that he would have appeared as such, and the orange tabby had spent more hours in his presence, he certainly never would have been able to ascertain that he needed touch.  "How?"

Hob shrugged and flicked his tail across the grass.  "Some things are instinct, I guess.  But I was curious.  Even if you don't need a hug, you could want one.  Do you want one?"

The question (and the way his had been answered) tickled something at the back of Dream's mind, but he dismissed it in the face of the plain and clear question that had been asked of him.  He might not need a hug, but he could certainly want one, and that was a distinct possibility.  Did he want a hug?  More importantly, could he allow himself this momentary weakness, to accept such a touch from a stranger who he did not know, and could have an ulterior motive? 

"What would it do for you?" Dream asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  The thought that such a weakness could be used against him had come roaring to the front of his mind, and Dream could not deny that the fear was growing by the second.  "Why would you offer it?"

Had Hob been human, he would have whimpered at those words, at the reality and truth of them.  To think that Dream had received so little open kindness in his life that a hug should be treated with suspicion, that it would need to be looked upon with this level of worry was... heartbreaking.  It only made Hob want to hug him more, but admitting any of those things would do the exact opposite and Dream would pull further away. 

"It is comfort, and everyone deserves it.  It is harmless," Hob answered instead, continuing to watch Dream. 

"Harmless," Dream scoffed.  "Foolish, more like." 

"As foolish as resting in the sun and letting it warm you?" Hob challenged, leaning down his front half into pounce position, wiggling his hips as he continued to watch Dream consider that statement.  Now, at least, there was a moment of indecision and confusion.  "When was the last time you played a game?  You worked hard.  Allow yourself to play." 

Dream started incredulously at the orange tabby who looked ready to pounce him, tension in every single one of his muscles.  "A game?  I do not have time for games." 

"You had time for sunning yourself.  And your raven said you could keep enjoying your time," Hob challenged, before leaping and pouncing on Dream, knocking him gently to the ground, before swiftly moving out of the way of his claws, lingering a couple of feet away, about to race away.  "Come play!" 

Dream narrowed his eyes, climbing back up to both his feet.  "This is my realm.  You cannot escape me." 

Hob laughed and danced on the pads of his feet.  "It is not about escape.  It is about chase.  It is about having fun."  He stepped in closer, his tail up and flicking in the air behind him as he pressed his nose to Dream's in a brief touch before pulling back.  "I promise to not make it too easy on you."  That, at least, got the growl that he wanted from Dream, and he leaped away as Dream dashed after him. 

After that, it was a wild chase through the tall grass, flowers, and small forest around them.  Hob changed his approach more than a dozen times, weaving around trees (and then avoiding them when he realized that Dream could step out of the shadows of them), when Dream, at last, pounced and he didn't see it in time, sending him crashing to the field of flowers, Dream on top of him, pinning him down.  He willingly went limp and ceded the win to Dream and then found himself with Dream on top of him and a face buried against his neck as they both caught their breath. 

"Fun," Dream breathed softly.  Like this, he could feel the sunshine bleeding from the other cat, and it was so warm, he wanted to sink into it for as long as he could.  How strange.  "I can't remember the last time I had fun." 

"Good thing that you have me here to help then," Hob said, keeping his voice cheerful, even as he felt his heart turn over in his chest.  "I'll play with you whenever you want.  Bet you'd enjoy it."  When Dream turned to narrow his eyes at him, Hob laughed and pounced on him, knocking him to the dirt again, before he raced off across the meadow.  When he heard Dream racing behind him, only a few seconds later, Hob pushed his body to the limits as they raced around each other.  It took a few tries, but soon he was leaping halfway up trees and using them to change direction, and run circles around Dream, who was getting faster and faster with each pass.  This wasn't going to last and he knew it, but in the meantime, it was fun. 

Hob was once more racing across the meadow when the appearance of a woman, the same one who had been chastizing him for sitting on Dream's throne appeared in the middle of it, looking around for them.  He stopped and turned to look at Dream, only to find himself pounced on, he and Dream rolling, only to land at her feet in a tangle of black and orange fur.  Hob laughed as they untangled themselves and the cat turned to look at the woman with a regal nod of his head.  He dusted himself off and considered going back to the castle, to wait for Dream there when he would return.  He could feel that, at least for now, they were done playing. 

Something tugged at his chest, hard and insistent and Hob paused, sitting down in the meadow as he tried to feel exactly what it was.  The other two were ignoring him, talking quietly to each other, and he took a few more steps forward.  A portal opened up in front of him and he stared at it in confusion, tilting his head to the side curiously.  It was swirling with every color imaginable, and several others that he had never seen before and stepped closer to it.  The tug was coming from inside the portal and he stepped closer to it, watching it carefully.  Dream had told him to be wary, and he was, but there was something telling him that he needed to go through the portal, and find out what was waiting for him on the other side.  Whatever it was, it was something that he needed to... to do. 

He looked behind him at the sight of Dream, now once more in the form that Hob recognized, standing with the person.  Neither of them were paying attention to him any longer and he smiled, giving a nod.  It was enough that he had managed to get Dream to play with him for a little while.  That was enough.  At least for now.  Hob turned back to the portal and leaped through it, feeling it close behind him. 

A mad swirl of colors surrounded him and laughed in delight, making him twirl and chase the spark that had appeared.  There was no path back to the Dreaming, where Dream and the woman had been standing, but that was all right.  He felt proud to have gotten Dream to smile, and to play, at least a little.  It had been good for him, he had no doubt.  Instead, he turned his full attention to the colors surrounding him and felt the insistent tugging at the center of his chest.  He sat down on the cascade of colors and let out a loud meow, but all at once, he was a human again, and the light around him was blinding as he stumbled. 

"Shit, oh, what the..." Hob clenched his eyes shut, a headache having immediately burst behind his temples now that he was a human again.  The part of him that he knew was no longer human in the back of his mind was tugging at him, trying to pull him back into the mind of the cat, where it was safer and far less chaotic.  "Who, what are you?" 

"I aM mE, oF cOuRsE!" 

The voice was a discordant bell and a chime all at once, and Hob managed a smile for her.  "Of course you are.  Can you tell me who I am?  And why I'm here?" 

"If I hAd LeFt YoU, DrEaM wOuLd HaVe FiGuReD oUt WhO yOu WeRe.  Or YoU wOuLd HaVe ToLd HiM.  YoU cAn'T lEt HiM sUsPeCt YoU.  ThAt WoUlD rUiN eVeRyThInG!"

Hob blinked in confusion against the weight of his hand and lifted it a few inches off his face to look at the young woman who was, sitting upsidedown, in mid air.  He stared at her for several long seconds before he shrugged.  Wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever seen by far.  "Dream was going to figure me out?  Then I suppose I shouldn't go back."  The words made him sad, even as he said them, because wanted to go back and see Dream again.  Wanted to go back and play with him again, see if he could convince his stoic friend that it was his turn to be chased. 

"No, No, No, No YoU mUsT!  YoU mUsT gO bAcK!  YoU hAvE tO hElP!  PlEaSe, YoU hAvE tO hElP!"

Hob lifted his hand, and the woman in front of him didn't move, but her face had twisted to give him a frown that was comically large.  "I don't... he's my friend.  I don't know how to help him, like you said.  I don't even know what's wrong with him.  How am I supposed to know?" 

"PlAy!  LaUgH!  YoU dId iT tOdAy!  ALl Of tHoSe tHiNgS!" 

Hob swallowed and considered that, leaning back against the wall that solidified into place.  "I can try," he agreed.  "But you said he's going to recognize me.  How can I help him with anything when he's going to know that it's me?"

The dancing light in front of him around the young woman paused to consider that, and Hob waited for the answer that he knew wasn't going to come.  No matter what he did, or how he tried, if Dream was going to recognize him, there really would be no stopping his friend from being furious with him, and that was the last thing he wanted.  "Is it him I'm supposed to help?" he asked, meeting her eyes. 

She nodded, chewing on her lip.  "I gAvE iT tO yOu.  IT's GoOd FoR yOu.  YoU'lL LiKe iT.  YoU nEeD iT, tO hElP hIm.  He WoN't LiStEn, OtHeRwIsE.  He MiGhT sTiLl NoT LiStEn."  She swung her feet in the air and sighed.  "He'S sO sTuBbOrN aNd I lOvE hIm So MuCh.  BuT hE dOeSn'T hAvE fUn AnYmOrE.  I miSs WhEn hE uSeD tO hAvE fUn." 

There was something heartbreakingly sad about the declaration that Dream didn't have fun any longer, especially when it was clear that that was all that she wanted for him.  Hob swallowed and looked up at her.  "What if you told him?  I'm sure that he'd-"

"No!  He DoEsN't LiStEn.  EsPeCiAlLy NoT tO mE."  She looked at him.  "He LiStEnEd tO yOu." 

Hob pushed his fingers through his hair.  Dream had listened to him, and for what reason, he had no idea.  Dream had had no reason, but he... Tilting his head, he looked up at the young woman again.  "You said you gave me something.  What did you give me?" 

She grinned and did a flip in mid air.  "It WaA a SeEd!  I'vE bEeN hIdInG iT fOr a LoNg TiMe.  IT uSeD tO bE mInE, aNd iT sTiLl iS, bUt nOw iT's YoUrS tOo, bEcAuSe YoUr GrOuNd Is FeRtiLe, yOu'Ll Be ThE bEsT fOr iT, aNd yOu cAn UsE iT tO hElP DrEaM!"

"That didn't answer my question," Hob said, only to find that she was standing directly in front of him and had reached out to press a finger to his chest, making him inhale sharply under the pressure of it.  "What kind of a seed?  What did it... do to me?" 

She sighed and flopped over a chair that had not been there moments earlier.  "He'S nOt CuRiOuS aNyMoRe.  He'S tOo oLd.  He KnOws EvErYtHiNg, He'S sUrE oF iT.  He NeEdS tO bE cUrIoUs, So I wAnTeD tO gIvE hIm YoU!  So He WoUlD bE cUrIoUs!" 

That answer wasn't any more enlightening, but Hob could see some of the intent behind it, at least.  It was curious that she would have picked him for this, because surely there had to be better.  "And you want me to make him curious?"

She shook her head, bells tinkling in her hair in a way that had Hob smiling despite himself. 

"YoU'rE cUrIoUs, He CaN't AlSo Be CuRiOuS, hE's DrEaM!  YoU nEeD tO rEmInD hIm To Be CuRiOuS.  He LiKeS iT, hE jUsT dOeSn'T rEmEmBeR iT, aNd I mIsS hIm NoT rEmEmBeRiNg iT!"

Hob couldn't shake the feeling that exactly what he was was in that answer, but it was still out of reach and didn't make enough sense.  He sighed and nodded again.  "How do I... switch forms?  So I can be human again?" 

"CaN't, I'm KeEpInG yOu-YoU hErE!  SaFe ThOuGh, I pRoMiSe, JuSt HaVe To KeEp BeInG cUrIoUs!" 

Hob's heart jumped into his throat.  "I need to be able to be human again, what if Dream comes to visit me, he might think that I've left!"  Fear swamped over him and he moved closer to her and met both her eyes, the green one flickering to blue for an instant.  "Please, he can't think I've abandoned him if he comes to see me.  He can't." 

She nodded once.  "VeRy WeLl." 

Hob relaxed and sighed in relief.  "Only when he visits me, if he does, I promise.  I'm fine being a cat the rest of the time.  I'm having fun with it."  That, at least, had her smiling and her eyes were shining with the same light as before.  He heard the opening of a portal behind him and looked back over to it.  "Why... are you helping me?  Him?  Why?" 

A sad smile crawled over her face and she wrapped her arms around herself, a multi-colored shadow joining her.  "I kNoW tHiNgS.  DrEaM hAs tO sToP.  Or He WiLl SaY gOoDbYe." 

Another shiver of fear rolled up Hob's spine as he stared at her.  "Goodbye?"  She gave another sad nod.  "Goodbye forever?"  That made her sniffle and Hob was about to demand more information, when she pushed her hands out at him, shoving insistently at him toward the portal.  He landed, once more on four feet and looked around him.  It was not the same field as before, there was cobblestone under his paws, so Hob took a deep breath and started walking, one paw after another.  His mind was spinning, the thought of Dream saying goodbye, having to say goodbye in a way that was permanent, had something dark twisting deeper in his chest. 

That did mean one thing for certain.  Dream was in trouble, and she, whoever she was, was right about him needing help.  And there was very little (if anything at all) that Hob would not do to protect his friend and keep him safe.  Even if it meant putting himself in danger. 

Weaving between the legs of creatures that were appearing steadily, Hob kept going forward, the sun above streaming down on them, lulling him with its heat.  He wanted nothing more than to stop and stretch out to enjoy and soak up the sunshine.  But he didn't know how much time he had, or how long he had to make a difference with his friend.  He would need to go to work.  And make him... curious.  Somehow. 

The crowd was getting thicker and thicker, and with a sigh of frustration, Hob jumped up onto a railing and began walking along it instead, only to realize that he was crossing a massive bridge, and there was a line, all of it heading straight into Dream's castle.  It appeared to be lit up and decorated, as though celebrating, and he stopped to sit on the railing and observe it.  The crowd he'd been walking to was wandering in steadily, all of them being checked by the Guardians, to head inside to whatever awaited them there. 

Hob wrinkled his nose and started to make his way toward the castle once more when all of the sudden, the raven Dream had been talking to before, landed in front of him and eyed him.  He tensed and drew his claws out, glaring right back at the raven. 

"So you're finally back, are you?"

That was an odd question.  Hob tilted his head and stared at the raven.  "Was I gone for long?"

"He was worried about you, you know.  All he saw was you disappearing into a portal, and then you were gone.  He's been looking for you," the raven clacked his beak.  "You made him sad, and I hope that that makes you sad too!  He has enough to deal with, he doesn't deserve to-"

"Wait, wait," Hob interrupted.  "I don't understand.  I was being summoned, I had to go.  Where... how long have I been gone?” 

The raven cawed.  "At least a month, by my reckoning.  S'how long it took us to pull this whole party together.  Who are you, anyway?" 

"I, I don't know," Hob answered, the question frustrating him more than ever.  "But I didn't mean to stay away for so long.  I'll go find him, right away!" 

Coiling his legs under him, Hob jumped over the raven, who squawked and startled all the party goers by him on the bridge, and he began to run along the railing.  It was miraculously free of any interference, but when he came to the front of the line, the same woman was there, with the guardians of the gate hovering over her.  Hob went to run right past all of them, eager to find Dream, to be near him, and he could feel the confusion and curiosity of everyone watching him as he ran by, but he couldn't go through the door, it was protected and Hob slashed at it, then looked up at the woman, who was giving him a judgmental look. 

"So you did decide to return after all," she said, looking down at him.  "I hope you give him a proper apology.  He deserves one." 

Hob's heart was pounding, and he barely felt the barrier lower before he was racing into the castle, once more racing past feet, dresses, and shoes, dodging each one of them as expertly as he could, until he at last broke free, standing on the bottom stair of a large, winding staircase.  He took a moment to pant, trying to catch his breath, his head swimming with how far he had run in the past few minutes alone.  The marble was cool beneath him and all he wanted was to curl up on it and sleep and rest, catch his breath before he had to see his friend.  But if Dream still thought he had been abandoned, Hob wasn't going to leave him for another single second. 

Taking another deep breath, Hob heard the gasps around the crowd, and their rising confusion as he started to race up the stairs.  The buzz in the room about them, curious about what he was up to, was growing louder and louder by the time he reached the platform where Dream was spread out, one leg out in front of him, an arm resting on his knee, clearly in repose.  Galaxy black eyes, with stars at their center fell to him and Hob shuddered under their cold disinterest, before they widened in surprise.  Hob didn't wait for a single second longer, he launched himself into his friend's lap, and pressed as close as he could, nuzzling up against his chest. 

"You're back." 

The quiet surprise in Dream's voice was more painful than Hob had expected, and he pressed his head closer, nuzzling into Dream's clothes again and again, trying not to climb him with his claws, but needing to get closer.  "Course I'm back," he muttered with an annoyed meow.  "Never meant to leave in the first place, got summoned."  Those words had Dream tensing beneath him, but Hob didn't move.  "You were busy, I couldn't say goodbye, and tell you I'd be back." 

For some reason, those words had Dream relaxing under him and Hob was glad when a cool hand came up and cradled his body easily so he could rest more easily against Dream's chest with a happy sigh, continuing to nuzzle into him.  "Didn't realize the summon would take that long.  I couldn't feel the time passing, not here or there.  I would have come back sooner if I'd known." 

"It's all right," Dream said, his voice a soft murmur.  "But you have a great many people curious about you now, little one.  If you wished to keep a low profile, this was not the way to do it." 

Hob could feel how curious all of them were, about what he was, because he was not one of them, and the answer to that had him shaking his head.  He didn't know what he was, outside the fact that he had a seed of some sort, and that he was here to help Dream be curious and not have to say goodbye.  The messaging was still a jumble in his head and didn't quite make sense, he needed to sit down and think about it more.  He had to help Dream be curious, that much had been clear.  How he was supposed to do that though, that he had not figured out yet.  

On the other hand, everyone being curious about him, might distract them from being focused on Dream, and that was something that his friend would likely prefer, if he had to guess.  But right now, he would worry about all of them being curious about him later.  He needed to focus on Dream.  And to do that, he would need to find out exactly why they were having this party.  "I'll figure that out later, I'm not worried about it," he admitted, smiling at Dream, nuzzling into his chest again.  "But for now, I'm not going anywhere.  So clue me in on this party of yours.  What's the reason for it?  Are we celebrating?  Or are we doing something else?"

Dream hummed and lifted his eyes to the steadily streaming in guests and felt the weight of all their presence piling into the castle with a soft exhale.  It was a weight he was well able to bear, but he was more aware of it, ever since his capture.  He felt all of their touches, and more than that, he felt their daydreams of being able to take something from him, a piece of him for themselves and it rankled in a way ill-fitting clothing did to many Dreamers.  It was not a sensation he could chase away.  The daydreams of the cat in his lap though, of comforting him, of playing again, of lounging in the sun, they were a balm and a safe harbor in a sea of other daydreams. 

"I was gone for a very long time," Dream admitted, his voice soft.  "In that time, my kingdom crumbled.  I have been rebuilding it, and though there are places that still need to be tended to, it is repaired.  I have invited allies, enemies, and those who would remain neutral to see that the Dreaming is restored.  That I am restored.  It is a threat and a promise in one.  A promise to allies and a threat to enemies."  He inhaled again, feeling the pulse of the power that he had absorbed from his ruby.  "There are not as many allies as there were once before."  Why he'd told a cat he didn't recognize, and didn't know, that information was beyond him. 

Maybe one day Dream's quiet admittance, things that he would never say during their meetings (of that, he was certain), and Hob wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a proper hug and tell him that he would always have his support.  Not that it meant much of anything in a room of creatures of every possible type.  But it meant something, he would like to think.  He looked up at Dream and the tired expression on his face, and how he looked out at the crowd.  He looked out at the crowd and a spark of something started to grow in him, and the idea of spreading a little bit of mischief, something that might make Dream laugh, seemed like the best way to proceed. 

"Well," Hob said with a huff and a shake of himself.  "Who do you dislike the most, I'll go bother them." 

Dream's eyes widened and he looked down to the cat.  "What?" 

"You heard me," Hob answered, giving a loud meow.  "Let me go bother them.  They won't even know I'm there, I bet.  I can practice slipping into the shadows like you were before.  Then no one would notice." 

Dream stared at the cat sprawled across his chest in bemusement, shaking his head.  "Such a thing is hardly necessary and would only cause upset." 

Hob flicked Dream's shoulder with his tail and squirmed in his arms.  "It's not about necessary, it's about fun," he said, looking back down at the crowd.  He had no doubt that some of the factions present had to hate each other, and that meant the opportunity for so much fun and chaos.  "What can I say, I'm curious.  A little chaos never hurt anyone." 

"Curious," Dream repeated, his voice soft as he looked at the cat who seemed eager to bound forward and leave some sort of trail of mischief.  "I suppose that you are, aren't you?"  The piercing brown eyes of the kitten met his and he found himself pinned in place under them, watching in confusion as the orange tabby nodded once.  "You will not actually injure anyone?" 

"I promise," Hob said easily.  "No actual injuries.  However, I do not promise that they will have a good time."  Looking out among the crowd, he could already see how easy it would be to do exactly what he had promised.  "But you must make me a promise in return, lord of this realm."  Dream's focus sharpened on him and Hob could feel the worry, but he nodded readily enough.  Hob smiled at him and winked, his tail flicking up behind him.  "You don't let them know it's me."  The request had clearly surprised his friend, by the widening of his eyes, and Hob bounded out of his arms and back down the stairs at a rapid pace, bleeding into the crowd immediately.  He kept his ears peeled, listening as he moved between the swishes of dresses and feet of all shapes and sizes. 

It was strange, he was curious about all of them, but none of them seemed to notice him as he slipped between them and listened to their conversations about Dream.  Some spoke of attacking him, others avoided him and would not risk his wrath for anything.  Others spent time speaking with others, but every time groups or pairs would sneak into the more private rooms, Hob followed them, curious, and overheard more than one hinted at plot against his friend.  Only being a cat did not lend to any sort of lethality, or ability to do much.  However, he discovered that he could lock doors, and so he did, trapping them in the places they had slunk off to, to be dealt with later. 

By the time he'd made two full circuits of the room, there was quite a bit of confusion about what was going on, and Hob could feel himself feeding off of it, continuing to weave the tiny little bits of chaos that he had promised Dream, when there was a gong, and the room abruptly fell silent.  Hob looked up and saw Dream descending from where he had been sitting on the stairs, waiting at the base of the staircase.  There was an announcement and a name that he did not catch, focused as he was to get back to Dream, and to remind him that no matter who this was, he had an ally.  The crowd was parting for whoever had just joined them and Hob fought down the urge to growl as he finally broke out of the crowd a few feet from Dream. 

He sat down in the middle of the cleared space and turned to face the towering guest who was gliding forward.  Their wings were leathery and spread, but they wore an angelic white, with platinum blonde curls hovering around their smiling face.  Without being told, Hob had no doubt that this was an enemy of Dream's, and not only an enemy, perhaps the one who threatened him most.  Hob stood and took a proper step between them, biting down the growl that wanted to escape, and sat down once more, far larger than a housecat now, with much, much larger claws, and even sharper teeth. 

"Well, well, Morpheus, this is very interesting." 

Dream's eyes lowered to the orange tabby that was now the size of a panther, and had planted himself very solidly between him and the Morningstar.  He had made no threatening moves, save his growl, and had not moved, even when he appeared to be directly impeding the path of the Morningstar.  "He is his own.  Not of the Dreaming," he answered, looking down at the cat once more. 

Lucifer laughed in delight.  "Of course he is, though I am not surprised you don't recognize him," they chided, turning their attention back to the cat.  "Such a curious thing you are.  It is a wonder.  Where did you get that Seed, hm?  There should be no more of them." 

Hob felt a flood of uncomfortable ice rush down his back, but he held his ground, continuing to stare at the creature in front of him.  Their expression twisted when he didn't respond, only kept his tail swishing against the marble behind him.  But if they knew that he had a seed, and precisely what it was, that wasn't going to end well for him, so he should probably run.  "I was given it," he answered, tilting his chin up.  He was not about to lie to the creature and risk giving offense.  He had been given the Seed, whatever it was and whatever it meant. 

"So you were," Lucifer agreed, tilting their head.  "Morpheus, did you happen to have another child and called us all to celebrate the lucky occasion?  Should have been far more clear in your communication if that was the case, of course.  We would have brought gifts." 

Behind him, Hob could feel how tense Dream was, and how worried at the same time.  Dream was afraid of this person in front of him, and knowing that he was afraid here, at the very seat of his power, where he would be strongest, was enough to have Hob approaching with caution.  But it was also clear that this creature had some knowledge of what he was and how he had become what he was, which meant that he could get some answers.  "I am no child of his.  I am here, because I wish to be here.  I am what I am, and have my mission, same as any other." 

All true words, without giving a single lick of detail.  Dream would be proud of him, he thought. 

Lucifer's eyes narrowed.  "You should be careful, young Curiosity.  You are not yet fully grown into that Seed, and were you to make enemies..." they shrugged.  "It is not a wise move for an Endless so young." 

Hob took all of that information, shocking as it was, and threw it into the back of his mind to worry about later.  Now, the creature in front of him was trying to throw him off kilter and potentially risk Dream.  That he could not allow.  "Of course, though, you know what they say about Curiosity, don't you?" He approached the creature in front of him and yawned, showing off his teeth and boredom all at once.  "Satisfaction brought me back.  So perhaps it is not me that needs to worry, as long as I can be satisfied, hm?" 

With that, he nodded once more to the creature and moved past them, heading down the way that had parted for them.  Hob could feel them watching him, and with a flood of power that nearly had him gasping, he could feel their curiosity about who, and what, precisely he was as he walked away.  It was nearly enough to knock him off his feet, but he made it to a red velvet chair that he curled up on and settled into to watch the proceedings from. 

But at least now, now he knew who he was.  Hob settled far more firmly into the chair and the sense of rightness that fell onto his shoulders.  Curiosity.  He was Curiosity, and the Seed, it was something that made him similar to Dream.  Not the same, he knew that, and could feel that.  But something similar.  Something familiar that would perhaps give comfort to Dream.  The mission from the young woman made more sense by the moment, because it was possible that she was an Endless as well, just like Dream, and just like him. 

Now that he had been named by the creature in white (who thankfully did not stay long after speaking with Dream, and left with some of the more rowdy members of the crowd), Hob was approached by dozens others, who stopped in front of his chair to introduce themselves.  It was an odd experience, but now there was a great deal of attention on him and he normally wouldn't have wanted that, but he could breathe in their curiousness the closer that they got, and it was heady, like a really excellent wine.  After a while though, exhaustion was catching up with him, and he climbed off of the chair and went in search of Dream, his form shifting back to the smaller size that allowed him to move through the crowd much easier than before. 

He was more readily recognized now, several people calling his name.  All of them were curious to know more about him, to speak with him, to know what he had said to Lucifer (and that was one more thing to panic over later, that he would worry about), how close he was to Dream, where he had come from, and whether he truly was one of the Endless (whatever that meant, though the rightness of that pulsed through him at every wondering), and how he had arrived at the party the way he did.  Hob had no doubt that it was exhausting, not only for him, but for Dream, who appeared to be moving through the crowd without interacting.  Seemed like they were both done with this part of sorts, so Hob made a beeline for his friend, reaching him in an instant. 

Dream stopped in his tracks and stared down at the orange tabby, Curiosity, if Lucifer was to be believed about the cat having an Endless Seed in it, and read the frustration coming off it in waves.  He waited, staring down at the cat, until it abruptly turned and began to lead him to one of the other hallways that he had seen a great many people disappear down.  The sounds of the party faded behind him and at the same time, some of the tension fell out of his shoulders the less and less eyes were on him, until they were alone and standing on a balcony together, Curiosity sitting beside his hand as he stared out across the Dreaming. 

"Should check on the people I locked in rooms in the hallway on the way down here.  All of them were whispering one plot or another against you.  Figured locking them in the rooms would scare them enough to think that you were listening," Hob said, licking one of his paws before he settled himself easily against the banister and stretched out on it.  Dream's gaze had snapped to him and he shrugged as he focused on the stone under his claws.  "Was curious what they were getting up to and this was a good way to keep them from doing it in a more public forum." 

"I see," Dream answered, turning to look at the hallway behind them.  Interesting that Curiosity had aided him in such a way, when the Endless were forbidden from helping each other.  Though he could feel it now, what Lucifer had pointed out, because it had received a huge surge of power, the Endless Seed in Curiosity was new.  Young, a very young child as his siblings had once been to him.  He smiled faintly, remembering a time when they had all worked to learn the full force of their function, such as it was.  Before they had settled into their roles and the parts that they had to play, such as they were.  Heroes and villains did not matter, it was what they were, what they always were.  What they always had been and what they would be, despite attempts to change, they could not.  They just... were. 

Exhaustion was heavy, and it lingered.  The idea of threatening them, of ensuring they knew precisely how powerful he was now was not something he wanted, though he knew well that that was precisely what was required in this situation.  Curiosity had done him the courtesy of protecting him, in the ways that he could.  The last thing he should do is waste that kindness.  So few would think to help him in such a way, and Curiosity, in particular did not deserve his anger. 

"Actually, you know what, never mind.  Leave them to me," Hob said, sitting up on the railing, wrapping his tail around himself.  Now that he had a moment of privacy, Dream looked so much more tired than he ever could have imagined of his friend and it was worrying.  Beyond worrying, even.  "I think I know a way to take care of them."  He reached out and gently touched his paw to Dream's hand, drawing his attention once more.  "Do you need a moment of comfort?" 

Dream closed his eyes and turned his face away from the cat who had asked for... a reason he didn't even understand.  To offer him comfort, the same way that, perhaps, Hob Gadling had daydreamed of offering him comfort.  A friend, warm drinks, quiet laughter, and company, enjoying it and simply relaxing together. "What comfort would you offer me?" he asked, looking down at Curiosity.  "There is little that I can offer you, even one in your position, Curiosity." 

Hob let out a quiet purr and stepped over Dream's hand, one paw at a time, until he was standing on the railing between Dream's hands.  He settled himself carefully and then leaned back so he was pressed against Dream and began to purr louder.  It was a matter of moments before there was a strong arm wrapped around him, holding him in place, and Hob closed his eyes, sinking back against his friend, keeping up the steady purring.  Perhaps this wouldn't do more than bother his friend, but if it could bring some small measure of comfort then it was what he would do without hesitation.  He'd been so jumpy about touch, so wary of being touched and comforted, anything that he was willing to accept was better than nothing, and this was no exception. 

He remained pressed up against Dream, long fingers holding him so carefully, so gently, until eventually, there was the sound of flapping wings beside them.  Hob opened one eye to glare at the raven who was standing on the balcony, watching the both of them.  Hob wanted to squirm, but he felt the tension return to Dream, even though he'd been steadily relaxing ever since he'd stepped away from everything that awaited. 

"Yes, Matthew?" Dream asked, lifting his eyes to his raven.  Curiosity had made no movement against him and was still breathing in deep and exhaling those steady, comforting purrs.  They seemed to resonate through his entire being, a frequency that he had never felt before and it was enough to have him continuing to relax.  But now he would need to return to his duties, to those he had left behind at the party.  "They are missing me inside, I would assume?" 

"There are a few who clocked that you snuck outside, yeah.  But they also thought that you might be dealing with all those locked up folks, so no one has started misbehaving.  Luce is starting to get twitchy though, so it might be good to head back." 

Hob fought down the urge to sigh and glared at the raven as he pressed himself tighter against Dream for a brief moment before he hopped down off the balcony and over Dream's arm.  "I'll take care of the ones who are locked in their rooms," he called, and made his way back into the castle.  If he was Endless, based on what everyone at the party had been saying, he held some sort of power, and that meant it was time for him to figure out how to use it.  Especially if it would help to keep Dream safe, and make sure people weren't taking advantage of him. 

Dream watched the orange tabby go, heading down the hallway, his steps silent as he slipped into the shadows. 

"How is he able to do that?  Thought only you could do that," Matthew said, turning to look at his boss.  There was a strange expression on his face, as he watched.  "I know he's supposed to be like, partially Endless, or something, from what everyone was gossiping.  But this is your realm." 

"Indeed," Dream agreed.  It was strange, how easily the Dreaming responded to Curiosity, almost as though it knew him and knew it wouldn't be harmed by him.  That he and it were safe in each other's hands.  It was a level of mastery over the Dreaming that not even Calliope had ever been able to manage.  For it to intrinsically obey something such as locking the doors on those who would do harm to Dream was... fascinating.  And very curious.  His lips twitched and he offered his shoulder to Matthew.  "Come, let us find Lucienne, and we will see what needs to be done for the remainder of our guests." 

~!~

Hob took his time, going from room to room that had been locked, facing the people who had been in them, who were clearly terrified, exactly as he had wanted them to be.  Whether they thought Dream had been the one to lock them up didn't matter.  All that did matter was that they wouldn't mess with him.  That was all he truly cared about and making sure that Dream was safe, that he would be safe and he wouldn't be taken advantage of by these ridiculous bastards who thought they could. 

It was easier than it should have been, that was for sure.  Stopping in the center of the room, staring at each of them.  Saying nothing, watching as they babbled in fear, exposing themselves and those they had been working with.  They were so eager to speak that Hob was almost having trouble keeping up with it, because they divulged their secrets without hesitancy.  There was no loyalty in any of them, and by the time they left the room, racing past him and giving wide, large berth, he had everything he needed to ensure that Dream would be safe. 

Exerting his power on them had been an accident, it had been something he'd considered, how to use Curiosity to a lethal avenue, and it was far easier than he expected.  It was about being curious for long enough that he could influence them to follow that curiosity to wherever and whatever end it had.  Several of the endings were not positive, and Hob had to bite down the urge to bear his teeth as he imaged their ends at the hands of their own curiosity.  It was so interesting what they wondered, and a shove of his power, that curiosity became overwhelming, their sole focus and an action they had to take, not something they simply wondered at. 

Finishing with each of them, and returning to the now decidedly thinned out party, Hob debated where he would sit and watch them all.  After a few minutes weaving between all the remaining dancers, he made his way up to the platform where Dream had been sitting and reclining on earlier.  He flopped onto the marble with a happy groan, glad for the cool stone against his belly, yawning wide as he settled in to relax and watch the rest of the party slowly fade with the latest night bleeding into the dawn.  It had been almost high noon when he arrived, no wonder he was running tired.  Understandable, of course, and he knew that Dream would not begrudge him finding some rest. 

Hob yawned again and let his eyes fall shut, his focus on Dream at last fading. 

~!~

"Boss?" Matthew asked, flapping his wings.  Lord Morpheus had been standing on the step below the landing, looking at the cat spread out in his favorite sitting spot for a good couple of minutes now (he'd counted!), and hadn't moved.  Hadn't tried to move past him, or wake him up, or do... anything.  Other than stand there.  "You know you can just ask him to move, right?" 

"He is sleeping," Dream reproached.  "And he performed a great many actions that will safeguard the Dreaming in the months and years to come.  He has proven himself a staunch ally and does not... deserve to be woken from a rest he has so rightfully earned." 

Matthew yawned.  "Well, I'll leave you here to stare at him, I'm going to go catch some shut eye." 

"You do not need to sleep, Matthew," Dream reminded, looking up at his raven.  "I have said this to you." 

"Oh I know, but that doesn't mean that I don't like taking it when I can," Matthew said with a flap of his wings, launching himself into the air, heading for the door at the very top of the staircase. 

Dream returned his attention to Curiosity, watching him carefully.  He was a strange ally, to have stood up to Lucifer without fear he had, to hold court in the way that he had, and then to trap those who would have hurt him and punished them in a fashion that even Dream approved of.  He had never met the like of it, and it was... strange.  There had never been anyone else to side with him so thoroughly, especially not someone from the Endless family. 

Considering for another few minutes, Dream knelt down and carefully gathered the orange tabby into his arms, before continuing to carry him up the top of the staircase.  Curiosity had done nothing but nestle deeper into his arms with a low, pleased purr, and it was similar enough to earlier that Dream had shuddered in memory as they walked together.  Once he reached the top, he opened the door to his room and closed it behind him, keeping the form of Curiosity in his arms, and made his way to the balcony and the lounger that had been there for weeks now so he could watch over his realm, even while he attempted to finish recovering himself. 

There was an easy comfort to be taken from the weight in his arms, as Curiosity continued to purr and rumble low in his sleep while he stared out across the Dreaming, repairing small pieces that required minimal focus as he watched.  It was the work of nothing to have a forest spring up there, for a lake to be made there, for gravity to be inverted there, to give Dreams and Nightmares new places to play and explore where they could best do their work.  Where imagination could run rampant and children could have dreams of lights and colors and sounds that were nothing but softness and kindness.  Dream lost himself in focusing on the Dreaming, on ensuring that it was everything that it should have been and handled when Curiosity stirred in his arms.  Pulling himself back, disconnecting himself, it was far more of a struggle than it should have been, but he managed it and refocused on the tabby in his arms who was blinking at him in confusion. 

"Hello Curiosity."

"Hello Dream," Hob answered, yawning and snuggling back into his arms once more.  "Or am I supposed to call you Lord Morpheus here?  That's what they all called you."

It was a wonder that Curiosity knew his real name, but perhaps as a being who was partially Endless, he had simply known and had been kind enough not to use it to worry him.  There was some truth that such a use would have concerned him, would have made him suspect that he was being used, or attacked, to being taken advantage of.  To have it be something more simple felt baffling, but there was a great deal of truth to it, even like this. 

"You have not told me, what it is that you are here for," Dream said, reaching out to pet the cat in his arms, stroking through it's soft fur repeatedly, the gesture soothing for both of them as Curiosity began to purr again, and arch into each of his touches.  It was pleasant for both of them and not something that he wanted to stop.  It was... comforting, to offer this comfort to a new Endless. 

"I'm supposed to help someone," Curiosity said. "That is what I have been charged to do.  And it looks like you could use company, even if you do not need my help.  So here I am." 

"Here you are," Dream repeated, staring down at the young Endless.  It was disconcerting, to see another Endless (though not a full one as his siblings were, more like what Orpheus had been, a facet, a fragment of one of them, existing as its own being), but there was no danger to it, at least not that he could see.  "I would not have you risking yourself for me, little one.  I am well-versed in how to protect myself and how to keep my realm safe."  The sneer and shout of Roderick Burgess should not have echoed in the back of his mind, but Dream inadvertently tightened his fingers in Curiosity's fur and had to force himself to release it and let go so he didn't hurt the other Endless.  "Or at least I did, once." 

"You protect your realm very well.  I didn't even have to threaten those who were plotting against you tonight.  All I had to do was look at them, and they remembered they had seen me with you.  It was enough, and they were cowed almost immediately," Hob said, arching into the firmer touch of Dream's hand once more.  "And if anyone were to try and hurt you, they would have to deal with me.  I know I'm still learning, but I am not a kitty without claws."

Dream snorted.  "It is true," he agreed. 

Hob fought down the urge to grin like a loon when Dream snorted like that, the laugh a clear indication of Dream finding him funny, something he was already addicted to the thought of.  Completely unreasonable, but his friend deserved to laugh more.  He deserved to laugh as much as he could, and Hob would do everything in his power to try and make that happen.  "Was the night a success then?  You'd be able to judge far more than me." 

"I doubt that," Dream answered.  "You spent a great deal of the evening among all of the people there.  Many of them did not see you.  I suspect, oh curious one, that you heard a great many more things than even I did, despite it being within the halls of a castle in the Dreaming.  Besides the threats that you so readily dealt with.  What did you hear?" 

Hob settled in and sprawled himself across Dream's lap so he could expose more of himself to be pet.  A fact that Dream realized almost instantly, for the length of his palm began to stroke up and down his side without hesitation.  He melted with a happy sigh and began to talk.  He started with Lucifer and the retinue they had arrived with, who had clearly been scoping out the place in case of an attack, but they hadn't expected him to keep biting at their ankles.  It had made them jumpy, and more than one of the other factions had picked up on that and continued to poke at the demons.  It had distracted them from causing mischief for Dream, which was precisely what he wanted. 

The others, the minor gods, had seemed eager to try to establish some sort of dominance and stating that had earned him another of those preciously low chuckles that he was quickly going to become addicted to if Dream wasn't careful.  Hob purred loudly as fingers dipped into scruff and began to scratch there, his whole body becoming something decidedly more liquid.  It was a clearly a comfort to the both of them and he wasn't going to make Dream stop for anything.  After that, he went into the different fae (because there had been several different sets of them, far more divided than any of the others). 

"You are a far better spy than I would have expected, Curiosity," Dream praised, looking down at him.  The information that he'd been given would inform his actions for the next several months, including Lucifer's plan for an attack.  Though he was not surprised to hear of that, considering what had happened in the retrieval of his helm, it put Lucifer's visit into a much starker light.  Especially when Curiosity had so clearly aligned with him.  "You should be careful though.  Aligning with me will gain you enemies."

Hob hummed, biting down the usual response that he would be more than fine, that he was older than he looked, but that would not work here.  "You are the only one I wish to be allied with.  As long as you would count me amongst them, please consider me one of your allies who would never forsake you for another." 

Dream blinked in surprise down at the tabby who had made the declaration as a statement of fact and stared in confusion.  "And what have I done to earn such undying loyalty from one such as yourself?"

"Without you, I don't exist," Hob said, the words escaping him before he had more than an instant to think about them.  Even as he said it, it was the truth, and it resonated through his entire being.  "Curiosity and Dreams.  If you are not curious about the world, then your dreams would never be far and broad reaching.  And without dreams to give voice to your imagination, what is there to be curious about?"  He shrugged and settled more solidly in Dream's lap.  "I am a piece of you without being you, and it is one that I now embody.  I didn't always."  

"There is a great deal of wisdom in such a statement," Dream answered.  "I would not have expected such wisdom from one so young."  In truth, it was wisdom that rankled, and did not feel as though it fit him and applied to him.  "However, dreams would still exist without curiosity.  They are a reflection of the mind." 

Hob nodded.  "And how terrible a mind without any curiosity in it.  To wonder about the smallest thing.  Words are filled with such wonder, and there is so much possibility and chance of exploration.  All of it is so much.  An impossible amount, surely.  How could you ever be without it?" 

Dream shook his head.  "I do not have an answer for such a question." 

Hob lifted his head to look up at Dream.  Being without curiosity, that was what she had said Dream was struggling with.  That he no longer had it, but he once had and it needed to be given back to him.  Not that he knew how he was going to accomplish that, but there was at least a single obvious place to start with it.  "What are you curious about, hm?  I could name a hundred things I am curious about myself.  However, how about you, Dream.  What are you curious about?"

Dream stared out across the Dreaming for several long seconds, gathering himself for that answer.  "Curiousness implies an innocence I no longer believe myself capable of." 

Once more, Hob was glad that the sound of his heart shattering could not be heard echoing in the Dreaming, for surely it would have if he were anyone else.  Such a statement said with complete and utter finality, as though it were a certainty and not something that was simply felt.  "You don't have to be innocent to be curious.  I certainly lost any innocence a long time ago.  Being curious implies only that.  Curiosity of the world around you.  You have nothing to be curious over?"

"Curiousness implies that I wonder.  When I already know the answer to the questions I would be curious over, what is there to wonder about?  The universe is a cyclical process, and I have seen billions of years pass and it has only solidified that certainty.  It is a matter of time, but everything returns to as it once was.  The works always return to their original forms, and the story will be told over again as though it is new when it is the furthest thing possible from it," Dream answered.  Inside him, something cracked, and there was a roar across the Dreaming, something breaking that would need to be repaired in the future, even though he felt the crack down to the deepest pits of his soul.  

Hob shifted and reached up to bat at Dream's robes and his hand when it descended to pet him once more, grumbling in annoyance.  "You do not know the answer to all questions.  That is impossible.  You have, perhaps, the ability to assess a situation and understand its conclusion based on sheer weight of experience, but that does not mean you know the answer to all questions." 

"Doesn't it?" Dream answered, pausing in his petting to look down at Curiosity.  "If it is always a pattern and it always follows the same pattern, when you have seen enough of the patterns, what hope is there of being original?" 

Hob bit down the instinctual response to say that new things were being invented all of the time, because that would be a very Hob answer, and not a very kitty answer.  Or at least an answer that sounded like it should come from Curiosity.  "Originality is not a pre-requisite.  A flower that has yet bloomed - that could be any number of colors, I will always wonder and be curious about what color it shall bloom as.  A life could choose any number of paths, and I will always be curious as to which one it follows."  He shifted in Dream's lap once more.  "A few dozen letters, when rearranged, make up millions of stories.  Only a handful of letters, and there are more and more that have never been written, or wait to be written.  If there is not wonder there, Dream, I do not know what else you could call it." 

At the mention of stories, of all of the possibilities, Dream closed his eyes and nodded to acknowledge the point.  "Stories are, perhaps, an exception.  I am often curious as to the stories that are told, that find their way into my library." 

Hob grinned and nestled back into Dream's arms, pressing in closer to him with a pleased sound escaping him.  There.  A small bit of curiosity, and a small bit of wonder, given back to Dream.  That was what mattered, and what he had needed to try to get into him.  "Speaking of your library.  Perhaps you could show me such a place tomorrow?  I would like to explore it." 

"You could spend centuries getting lost in such a place, such is the size of it," Dream answered, burying his fingertips in Curiosity's fur, even as the cat continued to purr, the sound vibrating his fingertips again and again until he was almost shivering.  "I would be honored for you to explore such a place, Curiosity.  Are there any stories in particular you would like to see?"

A perfect set up for him, so Hob rolled over in Dream's lap and looked up at him, blinking innocently.  "I would love to see your favorites.  The stories that mean the most to you.  That is what I am most curious about.  I want to know what stories mean something to you and why, so I can learn." 

Dream smiled for the briefest of moments.  "Am I a curious thing to you, then, Curiosity?" 

"Oh yes," Hob agreed, wiggling in his lap before settling down once more, yawning widely before he closed his eyes and snuggled up to Dream's hand once more.  "You are the most curious thing of all, Dream.  And I want to know everything there is to know about you, and then more still.  Anything that you would be willing to tell me of yourself." 

"Anything is far too broad," Dream said.  "Perhaps a direction?" 

Hob considered that for a moment, not wanting to trip Dream into recognizing who he was, if he asked a similar question as he had as a human.  But it was still the truth.  "What happened to you that caused the need for this party?" 

Dream tensed, pressing his fingertips into Curiosity's side.  "That is a very invasive question." 

Hob shrugged and batted at his fingertips for a few more moments before he answered.  "It is," he agreed.  "But you asked for something that I wished to know about you, and this is what I have picked.  You do not need to tell me, of course." 

Dream closed his eyes and breathed in deep, feeling the steady heartbeat of Curiosity beneath him.  The words, such as they were, came far easier than they should have, perhaps.  "A magician, a man of little power and less consequence, was able to summon and capture me in the Waking World.  For more than a century, with the assistance of one of my Nightmares.  I have unmade him for the betrayal." 

Hob made a quiet rumbling noise in his chest and let the growl come to full fruition, lifting himself so he could look at Dream properly.  His friend had hinted at capture, and that what he had gone through was difficult and a betrayal, but he hadn't mentioned anything like this.  Nothing to this extent that meant he had been betrayed by those closest to him.  "Good," he added, his voice still a low growl.  "He deserved worse for what he did to you."

"Your faith is misplaced.  I have done a great many terrible things in my life, and I should not be praised for-"

"Who said anything about praising you," Hob interrupted, meeting Dream's eyes when they blinked open in surprise and found him and where he was standing, both paws planted on Dream's chest so he could get better leverage to look him in the eye.  "Everyone who has lived long enough has done terrible things, and even worse things that they regret with everything in them."  He licked his lips over his chops and leaned in, pressing his whiskers to Dream's cheek.  "If you did not have such regrets I would have assumed that you lived no life at all, so I am relieved to hear that you have lived some sort of life." 

Dream stared at Curiosity, frowning, unsure of what he meant by that.  "I deserved-"

"You did not," Hob said, his voice edging into a full growl.  "Deserve to be trapped for as long as you were.  You deserved to be told what you did was wrong.  To face consequences as a result of those actions, yes.  However, trapping you for as long as you were?  No.  That was cruelty for the joy of it.  No one could ever have deserved that.  A lesson can be taught, but that was a step beyond punishment." 

Dream said nothing, looking down at his hands and where they rested on Curiosity's sides.  "Your certainty does you credit, even if it is wrong." 

"It isn't," Hob said simply, and then altered his form a fraction so he could drape his larger form, the one the size of a panther, on top of Dream, pinning him back to the lounger with a grunt.  He smirked, proud of himself as he did, keeping him pinned in place.  Like this, he could press his face properly to Dream's neck and scent him, and keep him in place.  If Dream truly wanted to move him, he could, but until then, he was going to stay right where he was and take some offered comfort. 

"What are you doing?" Dream asked when Curiosity did not move, only seemed to nestle closer, despite how large he was likely being uncomfortable on a lounger the size he had created. 

Deciding to forgo any subtlety, Hob answered honestly.  "I'm cuddling you." 

Dream blinked.  "You are... cuddling me." 

"Yes."  Hob closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing his full body weight properly onto Dream and breathed in deeply.  He could feel most of Dream's bony body stretched out beneath him and allowed himself not to worry about his weight or his bulk.  If Dream did not want him where he was, he would be moved, of that he had no doubt.  "And you are going to sit and enjoy it, and I am going to sit here and enjoy it, and afterward, we are both going to feel better, and then we are going to spend tomorrow in the library. And you are not going to argue."

Dream paused.  "Oh, am I?"

Hob felt the smile and eyebrow raise in those few words, and it was worth it, because at the same time, he could feel Dream relaxing again and that had been his true goal.  To have him relax and breathe and maybe take some room for himself, small as it was.  He deserved that.  He deserved everything.  "You are.  Or I am going to follow you around the entire time and just pin you to whatever surface I set fit until you take the time to relax yourself.  I'm sure you wouldn't want me interrupting your work like that."

"I suppose that is true," Dream agreed, still fighting a smile.  "After how well the event tonight went, I believe that a day spent in the library would not be a poor use of my time." 

Hob grinned and nuzzled into Dream's neck again with a pleased purr, continuing to stretch out on top of him.  "Then it's settled.  Now, hush and enjoy the cuddling." 

Dream closed his eyes and shifted so he had one arm wrapped around the form of the orange tabby and sank his fingers into the fur on his back, breathing in deep and slow.  Enjoy the cuddling.  What a strange command.  Especially from another Endless, who seemed determined to care for him in more than one way.  Everything that Curiosity had done tonight, from ensuring that those who would wish him harm were kept from the others and then were punished, to standing up to Lucifer, even when he did not know what he was doing, to pulling the attention of the room so it was not all focused on Dream, all of it had been a relief.  He was not alone in the room with all of them, he had someone else to lean on, who was not one of his own subjects.  It had been a relief to have at least one other person there who did support him, despite who he was. 

When Curiosity shifted to press more solidly against him, Dream allowed himself to lean forward and press his face to the soft fur on his shoulders.  Dreams did not cry, and would not, but if the finest of mists began to linger around them, well.  Curiosity still did not move and only shifted to cover more of him to keep him warm.  That, coupled with the slow, resonant purring, was enough to have him agreeing that perhaps cuddling was not an entirely wasted endeavor.  He felt lighter than he had before the party that evening, and there was none of the lingering upset that had been there beforehand.  He relaxed into the lounger beneath him and felt Curiosity do the same. 

There was no sleep for them to be found, not in the traditional sense, as they were, but Curiosity led him in his drifting across the Dreaming to a warm and comfortable dream under a shaded tree where they could both rest a moment as they dozed.  Dream sank into it, happily, without a word, and he felt, rather than saw, the pleased purr that went through the orange tabby when he shifted into a cat himself and draped himself over Curiosity, a version of his own cuddling.  The same rumbling purr as before rocketed through him, and Dream was able to close his eyes and rest for the first time since he had been freed from the glass cage. 

~!~

Hob woke to an indignant squawk and he swiped at it with one large paw, which prompted a much louder curse.  He opened one eye and looked at the raven standing beside them both, eyeing them like they were monsters.  He looked down at himself in the larger form once more and shifted back to the house cat size and looked at the raven.  Beneath him, Dream had also stirred and was staring at his raven.  None of the relaxation that had been so apparent in his limbs moments ago was there, and Hob cursed it, missing the sight of it already.  Dream always deserved to be relaxed, to be able to have that kind of relaxation.  He didn't get nearly enough of it, if today was an indication of it. 

"Matthew," Dream greeted, nodding his head.  He rested his hand on Curiosity's back, glad when he did not make any moves to remove himself.  He did not want to lose the comforting weight of the tabby yet.  "Is there anything you need this morning?"

Matthew flapped his wings.  "Luce and I finished the census.  Though you have retrieved all of the dreams and nightmares, we're short more than thirty each.  She told me that soon the duties may become unmanageable for the others if this isn't attended to."  He glanced at Curiosity and frowned, before looking back to Dream.  "Don't think she was saying get back to work, but you know her." 

"I do," Dream agreed.  "You will find me on the Shores of Creation, then, Matthew.  I would not be disturbed unless it is urgent, especially with such an extensive amount of work that needs be done." 

"You got it boss!" Matthew said, flapping his wings again.  "Hey, uh, Curious-"

"Curiosity," Hob corrected. 

"Right, right, C-man.  You want to come to the library so we can leave boss man to his creating.  He normally works in solitude."

Hob recognized the gesture for what it was and looked back up at Dream's face curiously.  The blankness there gave nothing away, and the more he watched Dream the more he became convinced that the very last thing he should do is leave Dream alone to his work.  But he didn't want to cause any sort of discord or upset between Dream and his people.  "I will be along shortly," he answered, and that was apparently good enough for Matthew, who took wing. 

Hob turned his attention back to Dream and found his face shuttered and blank once more.  None of the openness that had been there moments ago was present.  His friend was back to his usual stoic and serious self, the one he was all-too familiar with in his own world.  It made his heart ache to see it, even if he understood why Dream needed to hide behind that guise.  "Duty calls." 

"Ceaseless as it is," Dream agreed, carefully putting Curiosity on the ground before standing and changing from his formal robes to a loose set far more suited to working on the Shores of Creation.  "It is my Function.  it is not a burden."  Even as he said the words, they did not feel true.  There was a burden required with this.  He would need to do as he was bid, help to repair his realm, and that would be enough as it had always been.  But the thought of making new dreams and nightmares, beyond the few he had managed upon first arriving back, after remaking Gault, none of them had the inspiration that he would have wished for them.  They deserved better, and the skeletons of more than a dozen dreams and nightmares on the Shores of Creation was a testament to his indecision. 

"You sure that you don't want company?" Hob asked, sitting down on his paws, looking up at Dream.  The indifference on his face had almost cracked open and underneath it was an exhaustion that went so deep it was almost terrifying to look at it.  It was almost as though Dream himself was being drained, sucked dry by the demands of his function.  He was a King, but it was clear that he needed someone to share the burden with.  Or at least a way for the burden to not be so burdensome.  "I'd be happy to join you, even if I just have to stay out of the way." 

Dream shook his head.  "Enjoy the library.  It is extensive and I believe will hold many delights for you.  In the event that I am needed, both Matthew and Lucienne will be able to reach me.  I will endeavor not to stay away long, this time.  But they are right.  There is still so much work to be done." 

Hob swished his tail along the ground.  "And when do you get to rest?  When might you have a respite?" 

Dream's lips twitched and he gestured to the chair behind him.  "Last evening was, by definition, a respite.  As was the day we spent together in Fiddler's Green." 

That Dream considered those true breaks and that they were breaks, really time to rest, was heartbreaking, and Hob wanted nothing more than to pin him down again and keep him in place until he truly had a chance to rest, not just sit in one spot, waiting for the work to return.  He made a quiet plaintive noise and stepped closer, rubbing up against Dream's leg, twining around his legs.  He deserved time to rest, and he was not taking it for himself.  Ever since his capture, had these been the first moments he had rested?  After everything he had gone through?  That was even more painful to think about. 

"Worry not, Curiosity.  I am well and it is my Function.  It is what I am.  I am well-able to perform as is expected of me," Dream said, watching as the cat circled his feet once more, darting around his robe and under it before emerging to sit in front of him, watching him.  There was a look in those brown eyes that he didn't want to analyze and turned to look at the Shores of Creation.  Lucienne was right.  With the tremendous influx of Dreamers, new Dreams and new Nightmares were required.  His eyes drifted halfway shut and he chanced another glance down at Curiosity.  "I will return soon," he promised. 

Hob watched Dream disappear, stepping into a small swirl of sand that sprang up around it, reading the dismissal for what it was.  Dream did not want anyone following him to where he had gone and would deal with anything that he needed to by himself.  He frowned, watching where he had disappeared to, before he turned to make his way into the castle.  The library was not difficult to find, nor was its librarian, waiting for him at the entrance.  Hob sat down and looked up at her, studying her, waiting for whatever it was that she would say to him.  The silence stretched on as she continued to watch and study him, making him want to squirm under the regard.  He didn't need this.  He could come and go as he pleased.  He could go to Dream, to wherever he was and at least give him company so he was not in solitude and alone.  How much of his work did he do while he was alone? 

(The thought was more heartwrenching, and Hob spared a moment to wonder if things with Dream would ever not be heartbreaking.) 

"He does not need a minder." 

Hob continued to stare at her.  There was a difference between a minder and someone who cared and Hob knew damn well that he fell into the latter category.  He cared, he loved his friend, and to see him so worn down (far more than he had looked when they had last met up) was painful and he wanted to help.  "I would not assume to be his minder." 

She narrowed her eyes.  "Then you need to understand-"

"But he does need those who care about him.  How long, since he returned, has he rested?  Or has it been one crisis after another?" Hob challenged, looking at her, his tail swishing angrily.  By the way her lips thinned, he had his answer.  "You care for him.  But you place just as much pressure on him.  He needs space and time to heal." 

"There are duties that must be performed," she said.  "He manages the collective unconscious.  He cannot simply stop.” 

That was the crux of the problem, after all of it.  That Dream could not simply stop what was required of him, his role, his function, everything that he was.  The idea of him being able to stop for a break was... was truly impossible.  There was no possibility of it.  Which meant that all he had was to keep going, to keep pushing until eventually, he could do that no more.  Instead, Hob turned his attention back to the librarian in front of him. 

"Everyone, every being, has a point at which they break.  They cannot go forward, they cannot do more.  They are bent until they break."  Hob stared at her and watched fear flood into her eyes before she looked beyond him, up at the throne.  "I would never see him break.  But he is being pushed to his limits.  I know that you can see it."

"Everything that happened has... taken a toll," she allowed, turning her back on Curiosity to lead the way into the library, feeling him follow her to the desk where she had been working.  "Understandably so, considering what has happened.  I believe that he did seek his sister out for advice, as he has been struggling, but I do not know that it offered any solace to him.  He has been like this since then." 

Hob leaped up onto an empty chair and faced her, considering that for long moments.  So Dream had been summoned, trapped, for more than a century, had broken out, and he'd mentioned retrieving his tools, fighting for his ruby that destroyed it, then... there had been more.  Whispers of a vortex, that had happened, that he had heard at the party.  "Tell me about the Vortex.  What happened with all of that?"  By the way her face fell further, Hob had a feeling that he would very shortly know precisely why Dream looked as exhausted as he did. 

The full tale took mere minutes to relate.  A necessity of Dream's function, the death of a being that was designed to tear the Dreaming apart, that existed for some reason, every few thousand years.  Nearly spilling family blood, finding out that they were family he had not known he had.  Hob dug his claws into the wood of the chair beneath him, his chest rumbling with a growl that wanted to escape.  And to find that all of it, his captivity, the near spilling of family blood had been orchestrated by a sibling?  By family? 

No wonder Dream looked like he was barely holding things together.  Hob gave the librarian a look and settled back into his chair, thinking.  He would need to be careful if he wanted to try to take care of Dream, especially if he wanted to do it without causing offense.  He'd already done that once and that was more than enough for a single lifetime.  He wanted to support Dream, to help him, but there wasn't much that he could do in this form, other than pinning Dream to the bed, or some other flat surface to make sure that he rested.  Though, perhaps that idea had merit. 

"I should go to him," Hob said, pacing along the edge of the table when sitting became too much.  That statement was enough to draw the librarian's eyes to him and a sharp frown. 

"He is not to be disturbed when he is working.  He needs solitude and silence for the delicate work of crafting new dreams and new nightmares.  He has told me this himself many times," she corrected.  "If you approach him now, and go to visit him, you will find that you do nothing but put him further behind in his work." 

"I might also be able to make him rest," Hob countered.  "And if there is one thing he looks like he needs, it is rest.  A good meal, and rest."  He could see that she didn't disagree with the challenge of his words, and that made it all the worse.  But for now, he would listen, and wait.  Perhaps Dream would return of his own volition.  He settled himself down at the table to... wait. 

Time passed, as Hob watched the librarian work.  It was hard to tell just how much time was passing, as things appeared to move differently in the Dreaming (which made sense, Dreams could encompass years or seconds when you wanted them to), but Hob could feel the weight of time passing.  After a certain point, clouds rolled in across the sky and the librarian (Lucienne, if Matthew was to be believed) watched them with worry and trepidation.  He had a feeling that it was much more than rain that she didn't enjoy. 

Hob took to lounging against the window, waiting for Dream to return like he had promised, but the only thing that happened was the sky getting darker and darker, the clouds hovering low to the ground, as though they were ready to rain, but they did not.  They remained a constant threat, but they did not release the water they held.  However, the sight of them was enough to make everyone at the castle tense.  Which meant he was missing a crucial bit of information.  Curious, he made his way over to Lucienne, and sat on the table in front of her and cleared his throat. 

"You should still not visit-"

"I'm not asking about visiting him," Hob interrupted, cutting that line of questioning off in an instant.  Somehow, that relaxed her immediately and she turned a more considering eye to him. 

"Then what are you curious about Curiosity?" She asked, watching him over the rim of her glasses.  "I can see that it is something." 

Hob had to wonder what, precisely, she could see in him, but he answered, easily enough.  "Why do you all hate the weather?  Everyone keeps looking up at the clouds like rain is going to make them melt.  What is wrong?  Will you melt?"  Surprisingly, that was enough to make her lips twitch before she grew solemn once more and looked up at the sky again before she looked back down to her books, considering. 

"The weather is a reflection of my lord's mood.  If he is distraught, it is difficult for him to control, and it is reflected in the weather the Dreaming experiences.  Thick clouds like this..." she trailed off and looked to them again.  "But without the absence and sorrow of rain?  I do not know what it means." 

The weather was a bloody mood ring.  Fuck.  No wonder everyone was watching it so worriedly.  They knew it meant whatever mood was in wasn't a good one and wanted to steer clear of it as much as they could.  He couldn't fault them for that, but none of them were trying to do anything to prevent the clouds from releasing their deluge.  "Why hasn't anyone gone to talk to him to see if he's okay then?  If this is the weather we're having.  And I know, I know he requires solitude, but you can see that he isn't okay?  So why are you just sitting here?" 

She looked down at the books in front of her.  "It is not our place, as his creations, to question him, and his mood, and his actions." 

"Yeah that's a load of bullshit, but if that's what you're going to hide behind, that's fine," Hob said, standing up.  "I'm not one of his creations and I don't give a shit, so I'm going to go find him."  He didn't wait for her to offer another protest, instead jumping down off the table, striding for the door.  The doors at the rear of the castle were open and Hob sprinted for them, stretching his body out as he started to run.  Small drops of rain began to hit his fur as he stepped into the grass of the Dreaming proper, beyond the bridges. 

Hob took a deep breath and tried to see if he could feel Dream.  He had gone to a place where he would create, but here, in the world that he had built, everything tended to be slowly pulled toward him, and Hob followed that sense of gravity that he could feel continuously tugging at him.  It was a longer journey than he expected, likely because he couldn't just jump into a portal as Dream did, but he hoped that not enough time had passed to be concerning yet.  The rain was starting to come down harder, steadily, and as awful as that felt on his fur, Hob kept going. 

Eventually, the grass beneath his paws gave way to the beach, and abruptly, all at once, Hob was standing on a beach, and Dream was only a dozen or so feet away, the skeletons of dozens of creatures surrounding them.  Dream was in the middle of them, his shoulders hunched, clearly trying to do something and not succeeding in the way that he wanted to.  The clouds were just as dark here, just as prevalent, just as dark, and the rain was starting to come down harder.  Hob squared his shoulders, lifted his tail, and began to walk across the sand, until he was sitting on a rock, a few feet away from Dream (who had not noticed him yet, from what he could tell), and settled in to be there for his friend as much as he could. 

It was only when a lightning crack broke the sky above that Hob watched Dream yank himself away from the creation in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sound escaping him as he breathed.  The lightning immediately subsided, and so did the rain, and it looked like it was because Dream was trying to force himself to be controlled, before he turned and saw Curiosity.  Hob sat up and wrapped his tail around his feet, watching Dream as he approached.  It was almost as though the thunderclouds had gathered around him, his face a stormcloud in and of itself in its frustration and fury. 

"Did they send you here to complain about the weather?" Dream asked. 

His voice held the echoes of thunder in it, and Hob felt it wash across him in a wave of power.  Dream was a raging storm, barely contained, barely holding himself together, even as he stared in Hob in anger and frustration.  "No," he answered, lifting a paw to lick it.  "No one sent me here, and I have not come here to complain about the weather." 

"Is there some sort of urgency that calls me back?" Dream challenged.  "Another burgeoning issue that I must deal with instantly?"

Hob could feel the almost begging tone in that question.  Dream very clearly wanted to be pulled away from the work that was not working out for him as he wanted to, wanted something, anything, to pull him away from what he was doing.  Even a fight.  It was a desperation that Hob was far more familiar with than he wanted to be, and it made him ache for his friend.  "No.  No issue, nothing that I could tell you needs to be addressed in this moment.  Everything and everyone appears to be well.  They are, as you said, worried about the weather, but no one has expressed anything to me." 

Dream deflated, turning away from Curiosity, facing the creation that he had been unable to finish for hours now.  "Then you have no reason to be here, and should leave."

"I have every reason to be here," Hob corrected.  "My friend is here, and I thought he could use company." 

"You thought wrong," Dream snapped, reaching up to press his fingers to his temples.  "I need solitude, and silence and-"

"Precisely what I was giving you before you stormed over here to yell?" Hob interrupted, meeting the furious gaze of his friend.  It was a challenge that he never would have issued had he been human, he never would have tried to press this hard and risk his friend walking out on him forever.  But like this, he knew, without a doubt that anywhere Dream ran to, he would be able to follow, and that meant no more running, not truly. 

Dream clenched his hands into fists.  "I do not need a minder, someone to watch over and coach me as though you could know how to do my job better than I do!"

Hob spared a few seconds to wonder about all of the people in Dream's life who had clearly taken advantage of him in one way or another, because it was clear that they had done all of these things, and he was assuming that more of that would be forthcoming.  "I would never presume to tell you how to do your work better than you do," he pointed out.  "Not only would it be blatantly untrue, it would be foolish." 

"Then why are you here?" Dream asked, his voice a whipcrack of thunder across the space.  "Why have you come to interrupt me, to distract me, to pull me away from my work, to have this inane at best conversation?"

Hob watched his friend, and the way his whole being seemed to crumple in on itself after the shout.  There was so much regret in his face after his outburst, he spared a moment to wonder if all those who had been with Dream had never truly understood that he, as everything that he was, would be as mercurial as Dreams often were.  Had they judged him for such outbursts of anger and frustrations?  Likely, which had meant he would have tried to control himself more tightly, which led to more outbursts.  No wonder he was all tied up in proverbial knots. 

Dream took a slower breath, staring at the cat who was still watching him, calm as you please, despite his shouting.  "Why are you here, Curiosity?  There is nothing that I can give you here.  There is only work that I must finish and that I am struggling to accomplish.  Would you see me struggle?" 

The pain in that sentence was enough to have Hob's breath punched from his chest, and he leaped off the rock, stepping into the wet sand once more, padding his way over to Dream, and the way his robes had become immaterial wisps around his feet.  He paused and sat down in front of Dream, looking up at him once more.  "Of course not.  I would never come with the purpose of seeing you struggle.  The sky had gone dark, everyone was worried, and that made me worry for you.  Not for the weather, not for the people of the Dreaming, not for anyone other than you."

"You were worried about me," Dream said with a scoff.  "I am perfectly well, Curiosity." 

Hob didn't say anything in response, merely kept staring at Dream, and the certainty of those words faded into the quietly rumbling thunder around them.  The expression on Dream's face fell slowly, and they watched each other, as the bravado slowly fell away from Dream, and all that was left was a man, or a being that appeared as a man, who looked exhausted beyond all possibility and he was holding himself up by sheer will alone.  

"How long have you had to be perfectly well?" Hob asked him, keeping his voice low. 

Dream closed his eyes in pain and inhaled slowly.  "I am always well.  I am Dream, a personification.  I don't-"

"Answer my question, Dream," Hob challenged, meeting furious galaxy eyes in an instant.  It was a challenge, he knew, but it was one that Dream could rise to, it was just a matter of pushing and nudging him to do so.  "How long have you had to be perfectly well so you did not worry others?" 

Dream snapped his mouth shut and scowled.  "I am fine." 

Hob hummed.  "Perhaps if you continue to say it enough, it will become true.  But forcing yourself to be as much only means that when you do find a moment to break down and be upset, it will be worse than it ever could have been before."  He paused pointedly.  "It is all right if you are not fine, considering all that has happened to you.  It is more than all right, it would be almost expected."

"The Dreaming, the Dreamers," Dream emphasized.  "Need me to be fine.  Need me to be well.  Need me to be able to take care of them." 

"Which is all well and good," Hob allowed.  "But what happens when you are no longer fine and well and you are not able to take care of them?"  Dream's silence spoke volumes and Hob wanted to wrap him up in his arms as Dream seemed to fold in on himself, sitting on the rock that Hob himself had been relaxing on as he stared at the sand beneath his feet.  He waited a few seconds before he leaped up and into Dream's lap, settling across his bony thighs.  In a moment, fingers were buried in his fur, petting him as Dream looked around him. 

"I do not know why this time is different from all the others," Dream said eventually, his voice soft.  "This is not the first time I have experienced pain.  Not the first time I have experienced something similar to this.  And yet, nothing feels quite right.  It is as though there is a skin on top of mine that is separating me from everything.  It does not feel right.  It cannot feel right, and I do not know how to fix it."  He lifted his eyes to stare at the nightmare on the sand behind them. 

Hob purred quietly, letting it rumble in his chest so that it would maybe resonate through Dream as well.  He deserved that, to feel that and to be grounded, at least a little, in the now.  "You lost a great deal to the actions of others.  It is only reasonable-" He stopped when Dream seemed to vibrate under him, a wave of something sweeping over him so obviously that Hob stopped, cut off by the feeling.  "Dream?"

"My pride," Dream said, staring out across the sand.  "I lost everything that I did to my pride.  My sibling wished to do this to me because of my pride.  My pride kept me from speaking to my captors, kept me from calling out to one of my siblings for help.  What I lost, as you succinctly put it, is the fault of myself and myself only." 

Hob lifted his head to look up at him.  "You did not imprison yourself." 

"My actions led to it, it is a path I can see as clearly as I can see the clouds now.  It stretched out before, me, easy.  Rather than learn, attempt to be better, to do better, all I did was force others to suffer my pride," Dream said, staring out across the Sands of Creation.  "Is it any wonder that I can no longer create?  As though the ability has been robbed from me?  It is what I have deserved." 

Shifting in Dream's lap, Hob reached up and put his paws on Dream's chest, meeting his eyes as readily as he could.  He waited for a few seconds, their eyes meeting.  "You did not deserve what happened to you, no matter your pride.  You did not."  He leaned in and pressed their noses together.  "No one deserves to suffer as you did."  A tremble went through Dream under him and Hob felt him leaning back to rest against the rock, with him sprawled on top of him. 

Dream considered that for long seconds, staring at the gray sky of the Dreaming, letting the silence stretched between them, before he offered, almost too quiet to be heard.  "I do not believe you." 

Hob closed his eyes and let out a rough breath, the truth of that making his very soul ache.  He'd guessed as much, that Dream had believed himself deserving of punishment, and that everything he was suffering was his fault.  But hearing it spoken, even if only between them and the sand, made it all the more real.  It was agonizing, painful, and now neither of them could avoid it, but perhaps they would now be able to find a way forward.  It was what they needed, truly.  He just had to keep working as best he could to make Dream laugh and to be curious, exactly as he had been bid. 

"You don't have to believe me," Hob said eventually, resting his head on Dream's neck.  "I'll believe it enough for the both of us."  Though that made Dream tense beneath him, it did make the clouds above them start to dissipate and he watched them as they slowly faded away until they were nothing but faint haze preventing the most direct sunlight.  It was much better than it had been, even if it wasn't exactly where he'd wanted to get to.  But Dream was not stuck in his own melancholy, at least for now, and that was an improvement on the rain. 

Hob allowed them to sit there, breathing in the sea air, reclining together, for several minutes (it could have been days or weeks, who knew), breathing in deeply, until he stood up on Dream's chest and leaned down to touch their noses together again.  "I have a suggestion," he said, waiting for Dream's eyes to open, slow and lazy, to look at him.  "Take me on a tour of the Dreaming.  I have seen Fiddler's Green and your castle, and now here.  Take me on a tour of the rest.  Show me what you have spent millennia building." 

Dream blinked and frowned at him.  "Why?  You are quite capable of exploring it on your own.  You have showed as much."

"Because you built it," Hob challenged, his voice soft.  "Because I want to see it through your eyes as its builder, not just my own, and because I think it would do you good to go back and realize the places you loved creating and why.  Maybe it will help you with what you are struggling with here." 

Dream frowned, but acquiesced to the logic, at least for the time being, sitting up slowly, looking at the shells of the dozen nightmares that he had been attempting to create, frowning at the sight of them all.  There was nothing for it, he would need to begin entirely again at a later time.  Perhaps Curiosity was right, a tour around the Dreaming would do him good.  He could make sure the repairs were taking as they should, and that his dreams and nightmares were once more settling in as they should and finding their places in his kingdom. 

"Where would you like to start, Curiosity?" Dream asked, looking down at him.  "If this is to be your tour." 

Hob shrugged and climbed off of Dream to sit beside him on the rock.  "No idea where we could start.  Guess you'll just have to take me everywhere, won't you?"  He teased.  There was a flash of a small smile on Dream's lips and Hob counted that as a victory.  Whether it was or not didn't really matter, he'd managed to make Dream smile.  Even if only for a moment.  "Pick a place.  I promise that I shall enjoy it, no matter what." 

"A poor promise to make, I could take you somewhere terrible," Dream said, his sand rising around them.  "Take you to visit the land of the Nightmares, the Sea in which they reside." 

Though he wasn't eager to go swimming with Nightmares, Hob forced himself to give another shrug.  "If that is where you wish to take me, then that is where we will go." 

Dream smiled faintly and shook his head.  "Not to start, I think."  There were far better places for him to take one such as Curiosity.  His sand leapt to his command in seconds and Dream led Curiosity through it and much deeper into the Dreaming.  There a great many things that he could display and show off, and perhaps in the process, he would find whatever it was that he was searching for. 

~!~

The Dreaming was more beautiful than Hob had ever thought possible, and he'd seen a great deal of it in his first few days.  Between the library and the throne room and the castle, it was clear that Dream had an eye for beauty.  But so much of it was an untouchable sort of beauty.  The kind of beauty that you didn't want to muss, just wanted to sit back and admire.  It felt very much like being back in court again, all of the gems on display that were meant to be seen, not worn or touched and handled.  Everything else that Dream brought him to, everything on display, though Hob could see that there was more to it, Dream's impassivity remained.  He spoke of things as beautiful, and even smiled as he showed them off, but he still seemed disconnected from it all, almost as though he didn't know how to reach out and touch it any longer. 

More than one Dream (and a handful of Nightmares they had run into) stared longingly after Dream, as though they wanted him closer, but didn't know how to ask for it, and the more Hob saw, the more it was clear that the film on his skin that Dream had mentioned was affecting everything, but none of them knew how to break through it.  It was worrying, because it would be a matter of time before it started impacting everything else that Dream was doing, if it wasn't already.  Hob took his time introducing himself to everyone, while Dream stood back and watched.  He'd caught sight of a few more smiles that had burst out on his face, but nothing that had lingered, nor did Dream try to join the conversations with his creations.  He held himself back, apart from them all.  They were a part of him and that was enough, he would not let himself revel with them. 

Cain and Abel, as they stopped at their houses was the first time that Hob saw a hint of what Dream might have been before his captivity.  He spoke so gently with them, but with a faint hint of teasing, asking after their gargoyle Gregory, and introducing them to Hob.  They had all talked together, while Hob had asked them questions, and it had felt the most right out of the entire exploration of the Dreaming.  It did not feel as though it were forced, and when he was offered tea, Hob accepted it heartily, and even Dream sat down at the table, listening to his creations as they spoke together and sipped his tea.  It was the first time he didn't ache for Dream as they moved together, even though they had to say farewell soon enough. 

Once they had stepped away from them, Dream brought him to Fiddler's Green, and the first thing Hob did was to flop into the wonderfully warm grass under the still hazy sun.  Dream sat down beside him but did not say anything, did not attempt to add to their conversation, and he debated saying something, but.  He didn't think that it would help.  So instead, Hob draped himself on top of Dream and let himself enjoy the sun, purring loudly as he did.  Some things were universally enjoyable, and sitting in the sun was one of them.  For his part, Dream did not say anything either, but he appeared just as listless as he had been before, as though he were not fully grounded in the moment, not attached to things like he had been before. 

It was worrying. 

However, for now, Dream was at least not trying to force himself to work, and was relaxing in the sunshine, so he would take the victories where he could get them.  Hob was reasonably sure that he wouldn't be able to bait Dream into another chase across Fiddler's Green (no matter how much they would both enjoy it), so this seemed like the next best thing.  After a little while, Dream lifted his hand and began petting him again, as though he hadn't realized he wasn't and then began again.  Hob kept up the purring, louder than ever, and nestled into the robes that were curled around Dream. 

The sun slowly gave way to a clear night of stars above them, and Hob opened one eye to admire them, before he realized they were the same stars that were in Dream's eyes, sitting up on his lap to stare up at the sky.  It was almost as though Dream's eye was the night sky and it was blinking at him, watching him from a much, much larger form.  They were beautiful, though they had no bright, blinding light at the center as Dream's eyes had.  But the stars were beautiful.  He couldn't see stars like this unless he went to specific spots in the world, and even then, it was nothing like it had been a few centuries prior.  The day that humanity was able to explore the stars was the day that Hob would be grateful that he could once again enjoy those same evenings, staring up at the stars. 

"I am glad you are here, Curiosity." 

Dream's voice was unexpected, and Hob looked down at him, tearing his eyes away from the stars.  He tilted his head and made a quiet inquisitive sound.  Granted, it was a relief to know that he wasn't bothering Dream, that he hadn't been a burden to him, it had come out of nowhere with no prompting whatsoever.  So he looked down at the dream lord and waited for him to elaborate.

Dream turned his eyes back up to the stars and stared at them for a long moment.  "However you came to be, I care not.  But that you are here is enough.  Curiosity was once a part of my younger sister, before she changed.  She hadn't lost it, but the same... pleased innocence that you have, that she did not have.  She'd said once she lost it.  I'm pleased that it has found a place in you, such as you are." 

The combination of the compliment, the story about his sister (that had to be who the young woman was - one of Dream's siblings!), were all unexpected, and Hob wasn't quite sure how to respond to them, but he curled up against Dream's chest once more, glad when long fingers descended into his fur.  "I'm glad I'm here too," he offered up, his voice soft.  It was the truth.  No matter that his life he had left behind had no doubt been thrown into disarray with his disappearance, he did not regret coming here, to be with Dream, to hang out with him, and get to see him in a way that he kept hidden in the waking world.  "I wish there was more that I could do to help." 

Dream sighed and closed his eyes, reclining back against the grass.  "There is no help to be had for an Endless, and such are our roles.  It is our fate as what we are, collectives and personifications.  It is not a detriment, it is only what it is," he stated, plain and soft.  "To be tired by it would be to be tired by our core function and what we are.  It would indicate that we are not what we should be.  That something is broken.  And such a thing, as it is, does not have a way to be repaired." 

"Then what happens?" Hob asked, feeling the curious part of him surge forward, because there was something there, something haunted in Dream's words, as though he had already had all of these thoughts and reached his final conclusions on them.  "If you are being tired by your core function?"  Worry shot through him, growing stronger by the second.  Hob felt the way that Dream tensed beneath him and wanted nothing more than to hug him tight, because it was clear that was a question Dream had been asking himself, even if he didn't want to admit it. 

"I do not know," Dream answered.  "I do not want to find out." 

So he would return to the work, because that's what he was, and what he knew, and there was no getting out of this spiral.  Hob settled a little closer, digging his claws in a little more to Dream's robe, wondering if there was anything that he was supposed to do in this situation.  How could he offer anything to Dream like this?  Giving him curiosity, or making him laugh wouldn't suddenly make him enjoy doing his function anymore, and that was where the problem truly sat.  There was nothing he could do to fix those things for Dream.  Absolutely nothing. 

And that realization was far more devastating than he wanted to think about.  So he did all that he could, cuddling closer and soaking up the sunshine, hoping that his presence would let Dream take a few extra seconds for himself to do the same.  Maybe if he tried to force Dream to get enough rest, he would be able to recover and feel more fulfilled by his work.  There was joy for him here, he could see the hints of it when Dream talked about the library, or smiled at Matthew, or when he looked out across the Dreaming.  But all of it had been tempered and beat down by other things.  It needed to be unleashed again, but hell if Hob knew precisely how to do that. 

--

They sat in the sun for much longer than Hob would have thought Dream would allow, but perhaps he was avoiding going back to work, and avoiding those who would tell him to go back to work.  Here, like this, there was no one to push him and no one to require anything of him.  But, running from responsibility wouldn't accomplish anything either, and eventually, Hob stood up and sat down on Dream's chest and looked at his face, pale and gaunt cheekbones as it was.  He leaned down to nuzzle Dream's cheek, rousing him and bringing him to wide awake.  There was an upheaval of a sigh beneath him and then Dream was sitting up as well. 

"You are right, Curiosity.  We must go back." 

The resignation in Dream's voice had him aching down to his very bones, but he nodded and hopped off of Dream and together they made their way back to the castle.  Lucienne was waiting for him and informed Dream that there were many who wanted to meet with him.  That led them to the throne room and Dream settled on the landing, the same one that he had been occupying for the party.  Hob watched him sprawl out and then on a whim, climbed up and sat down beside him, stretching out on the marble.  He wouldn't interfere, but at least Dream would not feel like he was alone all of the time. 

"You do not need to stay if you don't wish to, Curiosity.  I know there is nothing to be curious about here," Dream said, reaching out to pet the cat beside him.  "There cannot be much of a draw here, anymore, now that you have been here for a while." 

Those words couldn't have been more wrong and Hob wanted to scream them from the mountaintops.  But the sad smile that twisted Dream's face was a resigned one, and he turned his attention to the people who were steadily filing into the throne room.  Hob settled into place and observed them as they came in, one after another.  Some of the requests were easily granted, and some of them were simply dreams and nightmares wanting to spend time with their lord.  Dream did his best to give them everything they asked for, promising to investigate those that they could not.  Promise after promise, request after request, all of it was leveled at him and Hob was amazed that he did not buckle under the pressure.  There was so much everyone was demanding, and Dream gave.  He did not stop giving, and promised to do everything that he could for them. 

When the tide of dreams and nightmares at last ceased, Dream accepted a book from Lucienne and began reviewing it as she rattled off information so fast that Hob could barely keep up with it.  But Dream nodded and asked questions, the hunch to his shoulders getting more and more pronounced by the second.  He wanted to shout for all of them to stop, to see what they were doing to Dream, but this was his responsibility and he was being crushed under it.  Anyone would have been.  Now he understood why Dream's sister was so worried, because it was obvious to see if you were looking for it.  Dream was sad, and unhappy, and even when he finished with the ledger, and took a book to read for pleasure, there was so little pleasure in it, that Hob took charge, hopping into his lap, making Dream startle. 

He looked up at Dream and let out a meow.  "I am going to read to you." 

Dream raised his eyebrows, bemused.  "You are going to read to me, Curiosity?"

"Yes," Hob answered, and gestured for Dream to put the book down so Hob could sit in front of it.  Keeping his claws retracted, he turned the page easily enough, cleared his throat, and began to read.  Dream's eyes widened, but he obligingly shifted to watch and listen to him.  For the first time in hours (days?  maybe more), Hob watched his friend start to relax as he read his way through the story.  He gave Dream's fingers an appreciative lick when a glass of water was summoned for him to sip out of after several dozen pages.  It was a relief, and he focused on the book again and resumed reading.  Out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed both Lucienne and Matthew go to step into the throne room, take one look at the two of them before leaving once more.  Whatever it was that they saw, they were loathe to interrupt it, and that was just fine with him. 

When he stopped for another break to sip some water, Hob felt Dream's hand land on his back, and a bookmark was lovingly tucked between the pages of the book before it was set aside.  Hob looked up at Dream, about to protest, when he was suddenly swept up into the arms of Dream, and he was being carried up the stairs once more.  The door was shut behind them not long after, and Dream had still not let go of him.  It was heartbreaking in the worst way, but Hob waited, he did, as Dream locked the door behind him and started to walk out to the lounger, before he paused and stared at it. 

"Do you have music?" Hob asked, when Dream seemed frozen, unable to make himself go out onto the balcony once more. 

Dream startled and turned back to Curiosity, looking down at him.  "Music?"

"Yes.  Might we listen to music and sit by the fire?  You could keep reading, or I could read something else?  Or you would you prefer something else?" Hob offered.  He knew sometimes, when you were feeling listless and untethered, making decisions was the most difficult part of anything.  If he could take that away from his friend, then he would. 

"What... would you like?  To listen to," Dream clarified after a pause. 

Hob hummed, considering that for a long moment.  He looked in the corner of the room  and debated offering up something as his own recommendation.  "What is a piece of music you think I will find curious?"

Dream chuckled.  "Now that is an answer worthy of curiosity," he praised, stepping closer to the fire with Curiosity still in his arms.  He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the roaring fire and music began to play softly behind them. 

The sound of that chuckle made his heart soar, and Hob nearly laughed as the songs that Dream had selected hopped from one genre to another without any care whatsoever.  It was refreshing and he was curious about what would play next, exactly as he'd asked for.  "Would you like me to read?" He offered, looking up at Dream, only to find Dream shaking his head, leaning back against the comfortable chair he had fallen into.  "All right."  He settled back into Dream's lap and began purring again.  If Dream did not want him to do anything, then he would focus on doing what he could - offering comfort to a clearly exhausted being. 

There was a sad twist to Dream's lips as they sat together, listening to whatever came up to play in the room, while he was pet, again and again.  Hob couldn't help feeling that there was something Dream was considering, as though he wanted to... to say goodbye.  He clung tighter to Dream and buried his face deep into Dream's robes, not wanting him to leave, but the aura of sadness that seemed to be lingering around him was getting thicker by the second.  "You seem sad," he offered up, after more than a dozen songs had played and Dream had said nothing. 

Dream stared at the ceiling, the words echoing quietly.  "Sad," he repeated.  "The endless don't get sad.  We simply are what we are.  Personifications of dreams.  Perhaps there are simply sad dreams right now." 

Hob had never heard something more ridiculous in his entire life, and while it was nothing compared to Dream's lifespan, it was still true.  "Even personifications can get sad," he challenged.  "I'm one, sort of, right?  And I can tell you I can get sad.  With confidence, even." 

Dream looked down at Curiosity, confused, humming low in his throat.  "Can you?  That is disheartening to hear.  I would not wish Curiosity to be sad.  You should be boundless joy and excitement." 

"No one can be that all of the time," Hob pointed out.  "There is always balance.  Just like Dreams and Nightmares.  There is always balance to one with the other.  That is simply how existence works."  That, at least, got an understanding noise out of Dream and Hob allowed himself to settle again.  "But you seem sad.  And I wish that I could help." 

Dream stared into the fire and the way that it danced and cackled, and cast warmth across the room.  It reminded him of the fire in the White Horse, and the fire in the New Inn, with the quiet laughter and happy joy amongst the dirt of the Waking World.  And in all of that, there was Hob.  Hob who was waiting for him to visit, to see him again.  Hob who would be so happy to see him.  He would light up, and smile, and Dream would... would sit down and absorb all of it.  Unable to touch it himself, unable to feel it himself, he would steal it from Hob, moment to moment, until the time would come for him to leave. 

"I am simply as I am," Dream answered, even though he could not imagine being filled with the same easy happiness and joy that Hob Gadling was.  Perhaps when he was far, far older, when he had faced more unkind centuries than kind ones, that joy and happiness would steadily start to fade until... He shook himself and frowned.  No, Hob had always been himself and would continue to be that.  He was certain of it. 

"Are you all right?" Hob asked, butting his head into Dream's palm.  He had gone worryingly still, only to be jolted once more into movement, as though he had gotten lost somewhere within his own head.  Concerning as it had been, he did seem to be all right. 

Dream nodded.  "I am, yes.  I was... I was thinking of my friend.  He is... he is happy.  I wonder if you would say that he seemed happy."  He pet down Curiosity's back and scratched behind his ears.  "I think you would like him.  He is often curious about everything." 

Hob wanted to sob out that it was him, that Dream was right, he was happy, and that he was so curious about everything, he had ended up here.  He went to say the words, to tell Dream who he was, and found his voice stolen from him, unable to force the words out.  Instead, he sighed and nuzzled into Dream's hand again.  "I am pleased to hear that you have a friend.  Perhaps, if you are feeling out of sorts, you should visit him?"  It might have been self-serving to encourage Dream to visit him, but Hob had never claimed not to be greedy.  The chance to see Dream again, to offer him hope and care and maybe even a small bit of happiness, that was all that he could imagine from this moment. 

"Hob," Dream breathed, his voice soft as the music started to fade.  "I would not wish to impose on him."  He paused, and looked down at Curiosity.  "He has informed me I am welcome whenever I might make time, because in his words, I am busier than he is.  But still..."

Hob wanted to growl and beat it into Dream's head that he meant it when he said that he would be pleased to have Dream join him at any given time.  It was the truth and Dream would not be able to run away from it if he had any say in things.  But he couldn't do that now, not when Dream thought he was talking to Curiosity and not Hob Gadling.  "I have had a great many friends in my time," he started, and felt Dream's full attention snap to him in an instant, and the wave of power from the curiosity that swarmed over Dream was almost stifling.  Dream was curious.  He was so curious and the power had him almost drunk and he was glad he was lying down on Dream's lap.  "In my experience, when they say you are welcome, you are welcome.  It is tough to often find times to meet in life, and there is no perfect time, so to be offered welcome whenever you can make time, it is a gift.  And your friend means it, I am certain of that." 

Dream said nothing for a long time, clearly thinking over his words, and Hob cursed his clumsy wording, because he didn't want Dream to feel like he had to hold back.  He could visit as often as he wanted, and Hob would often be pleased to see him.  It didn't matter how many times that happened, or if Dream showed up and decided that he wanted to stay.  None of it mattered.  "You should visit your friend," he urged.  "Perhaps he might make you smile." 

"Perhaps... he might," Dream agreed, helping Curiosity to climb off his lap, before standing.  He looked down at the orange tabby.  "Will you be here when I return?"

Hob tilted his head and let out a meow.  "I might need to check in somewhere else, briefly, but I will return.  You have my promise that I will return."  He saw the way Dream's shoulders relaxed and he gave a flick of his tail.  "I am not giving up those pets of yours.  They're quite good you know."  That got him a surprised exhale that was almost a chuckle, even as Dream started to swirl away into sand.  Hob waited a handful of seconds before dashing through a portal.  Dream's sister had promised him that he could shift back into human form, and stepping into his flat, into his bedroom, he was as human as he had ever been and he grinned, bright and wide at the sight.  Perfect.

Hob changed his clothes quickly, and felt the lingering power in the back of his mind as Curiosity, how he could feel it from the pub downstairs and all around him, but like this, it was dimmed, and it was easy to make himself ready as he headed downstairs, right as his friend was stepping through the front door.  Dream's eyes met his and Hob didn't bother trying to keep down his smile.  He grinned and gestured to their table from last time, sitting down easily as Dream made his way over.  The tension that he had been carrying in the Dreaming was still very apparent, but there was a smile that lingered on his lips, and that counted for everything.  He couldn't look away from it, even as he knocked their boots together when Dream sat down. 

"It is good to see you, my friend.  I'm so pleased you came back."  Hob knew that he was grinning too much, and that he was going to risk being too familiar, but the idea of not being happy to see Dream was one he wouldn't allow to exist for more than a second in his own mind.  "How did you phrase it last time?" he paused.  "Ah, how have you been keeping?  Would you like a drink?" 

"It is good to see you too, my friend," Dream repeated, looking down at the table between them.  He cleared his throat and glanced up at Hob Gadling, who was still smiling at him, patient, waiting for him to answer the questions that had been thrown at him.  "Wine?" he asked, relaxing when Hob stood up to head to the bar.  He breathed in deep, taking in the atmosphere around them.  Here, it was a place of comfort and Dream looked up at the bar, almost expecting to see Curiosity lingering, watching him from one place or another, but there was no sign of the orange tabby. 

Hob came back to their table with a glass of red wine for Dream and a beer for himself, settling down at the table.  There had been no surprised panic from his bartender, so he figured whatever magic was allowing him to be human right now was also making sure that no one freaked out that their missing boss had suddenly reappeared.  He also put down a bowl of popcorn between them, taking a bite of a few before smiling at Dream.  "So?  How have you been keeping?" 

Dream looked down at the bowl between them and reached out to take one of the pieces piled high in his fingertips, studying it for a long moment before he lowered his hand and faced Hob Gadling.  Trying to explain, or even trying to figure out where to begin seemed an oddly impossible task, even with Hob Gadling, who had at least the faintest understanding of what he was and who he was.  What he was responsible for.  Hob understood, as much as he could, and Dream deserved to tell him everything.  Or at least as much as he could understand.  "A great many things happened after I left you," he said, allowing himself to feel the weight of those things.  "Repairing my realm took a back seat to a much larger problem." 

When Hob's expression went wide and shocked and fear-filled, Dream held up a hand to forestall the questions.  "All is now well.  The situation has been handled, and the woman who-" he paused, wrinkling his brow, before he continued.  Hob deserved to know a fraction about him.  They were friends.  Sharing this was well within the bounds of friendship.  "Who is my niece, and her brother, my nephew.  They are both safe now." 

Hob's eyes widened and he softened, reaching out to touch Dream's wrist as he had before.  He wanted to climb into Dream's lap and wrap him in a hug, hold him tight until he melted and let down his burdens for a few moments, but this would be the next best thing.  "You have a niece and nephew?" he asked, keeping his voice low. 

Dream's lips quirked for the barest of moments.  "I do indeed.  They are..."  They were a great many things that Rose and Jed Walker both were, but what he could share with Hob Gadling escaped him and he frowned.  "They are good.  And they are kind.  It is a wonder that they are the great grandchildren of one of my siblings."  His eyes fluttered as he remembered the rest.  "Upon finding out they existed, I also found out that one of my siblings was responsible for me being captured." 

This time, not as Curiosity, Hob let himself really feel the fury that swept through him at that announcement.  "I'll kill them," he announced cheerfully, taking a large sip of his beer.  That, at least, drew Dream's attention and he blinked in surprise.  "Know it's probably not easy to kill what you are, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't give it my best shot.  Doing that to you.  They'd deserve it." 

"You would enact such violence on my behalf?" Dream asked, lifting his wine glass to take the faintest of sips from it.  It was far easier to enjoy the taste than normal, and Dream let himself take another.  When Hob nodded, eagerly, even, Dream tempered himself to a faint smile.  "As satisfying as it might be, it is far better if they are left to their own devices.  I would not have them turn their sights on you and cause harm to you in term." 

"You know that I'd be fine," Hob pointed out.  "I would find a way to be fine." 

Dream inclined his head.  "So you would.  But even still, it is not something that I would risk.  They have caused enough trouble and enough meddling.  They should not cause anything further."  He looked down at the wine glass between them and abruptly realized that Hob's fingers were still on his wrist, where he had left them.  He studied the faint touch.  It was almost as though Hob feared doing more.  But since Curiosity had offered him comfort, he had wondered at the willingness of his friend to offer such comfort, not that there was anything he could offer in return. 

"My friend?" Hob asked, pressing his fingers a little tighter to Dream's wrist, before he moved slowly and cupped his hand around Dream's.  He didn't close his hand, just left Dream's hand resting in the palm of his.  "Is there something wrong?" 

Dream's eyes jumped up, the question so similar to Curiosity's shooting fear through him.  What was so obvious on him that anyone who could see?  He would have to scrub this weakness from himself as quickly as possible before his enemies began to use it against him.  It was a matter of time before their plotting began again, and he would need to be ready for them.  Though the thought of having to build up the defenses of the Dreaming, while he was still repairing, still fixing, still rebuilding was...

Hob watched Dream take a large breath, before it shuddered out of him in a way that made him wonder if Dream was about to cry.  "Dream?" 

The words to describe his predicament were startlingly inefficient, and Dream wanted nothing more than to run from the concern in Hob's eyes, because his friend wanted to help, because they were friends, but there was nothing that he could do.  Nothing that he could offer beyond vague platitudes, and company.  "There is a great deal of work that remains that I must tend to." 

"I'm sure," Hob agreed, keeping Dream's hand in his.  His friend had not taken it back yet, even as he seemed to be struggling with something.  "But surely you can stay for a few moments longer, and I could tell you some stories, and you could take a rest?"

"Do you presume me weak enough to need a rest?" Dream snarled, glaring at Hob. 

The force of that glare left Hob shaking in his shoes, especially in the wake of 1889, but he held his ground and met Dream's eyes.  "I presume to enjoy your company, my friend.  And with as much work as you have mentioned having, taking a rest is a natural part of that work.  It is no comment on you."  That, at least, softened the glare, even if Dream was once more tense as a board.  It was so easy to say the wrong thing, so easy to put him on the defense.  But stories he could tell, and he would.  "Let me tell you about the latest classes I taught.  I think you will find this entertaining."  He launched into a story from the previous semester, which would be more than good enough for this story, and Dream would be able to enjoy it. 

Dream settled back and observed Hob Gadling as he told his story.  There was a light, a brightness that was emanating from the man in front of him that he was incapable of basking in, wanting to soak up all of it that was offered, until he no longer felt quite so empty and shallow.  He was a being of stories and Dream loved to hear them from Hob, loved to experience the world as he saw it.  He was invited to laugh with Hob, to chuckle with him at the antics of his students, and those faculty around him.  His life was broad, and rich, though it was so much smaller in scale.  He could find joy in so many small things, and Dream envied him for the ease in which he could do so. 

Dream took another sip of his wine as Hob barely took a breath before launching into another story.  It was easy to let the story wash over him as it sank into him, again and again.  How many times would he sit back and enjoy a story without ever being a part of it?  It had been far too long since he stepped up and had participated in a story.  That realization was enough to have him settling back in his chair, discomfited, and his frown was enough to draw Hob's storytelling to a stumbling close.  He closed his eyes and looked down at the wine glass in front of him.  Perhaps this was all that he had left to offer, to steal and take the stories from others, to recycle them so they could be used again and again. 

"Dream?" Hob called, reaching out to bump their feet together.  It took another two calls of his friend's name for bright blue eyes to meet his, and the regret and sorrow there had his heart seizing in fear as he curled his hand around Dream's.  "Dream?  What's wrong?" 

"One of my names," Dream answered, continuing to stare at his wine glass.  "Was the Prince of Stories.  I was thought of as the arbiter of all stories.  It is why I have always enjoyed your storytelling, Hob Gadling.  Because all stories end and begin with me, and to hear you tell them is to have them reframed for me in such a way that I rejoice in them.  They are wonderful, and I have rarely enjoyed them as much as I do when you take the time to tell them to me." 

"Why," Hob swallowed and reached for his beer, taking a sip.  "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' attached to all of that?  What's wrong, Dream?"

Dream hummed in consideration.  "I do not know, and perhaps therein lies the problem.  If I were to know what was wrong, I could fix it.  I could cut it from me, or I could find a way to overcome it.  But a thing I cannot see or feel, save to know it is there?  That I cannot fight.  But you can.  You can continue to move forward, to keep telling stories, to be a being of stories, even if I cannot." 

Hob felt his heart stop for several agonizing beats in his chest and despite the fact that it might make Dream panic, Hob turned his hand over and squeezed Dream's hand between his.  "Dream, you are stories.  You have told me as much.  And the world will always have a need of stories." 

"Yes," Dream agreed.  "It will.  But it does not mean I need to be the one to tell them.  That piece of myself..." To give one of the most precious pieces of himself to another, the piece that had built and maintained the library, even through its partial destruction, it felt wrong, and right all at once.  If it was his destiny, his future to no longer preside over these stories, did it not make sense to entrust them to someone who would care for them as he always had?  With all of his power and all of his ability?  He lifted his eyes to Hob Gadling and saw the fear there.  "Do not worry." 

"My friend, I," Hob swallowed down the panic, the urge to draw Dream closer, as though he could keep Dream from drifting further and further away.  Already, Dream seemed less substantial, as though he were starting to fade away and he had merely needed to begin the process.  "You are scaring me.  What are you talking about?  If something is wrong, let me, please let me try to help.  I'd do anything to help you, you have to know that." 

Dream inclined his head.  "I do, and that is why I would trust this to you.  I would trust you to safekeep the most important parts of me, until it can be given to another when you no longer want it." 

Panic was making it tough to think, but Hob held onto Dream's hand harder, watching him.  "Dream.  Please.  I don't, I'll do anything that you ask, but if something is wrong, try to fix it, don't give up.  I don't..." Hob licked his lips and met Dream's eyes and all at once felt a bolt of curiosity hit him as Dream stared at him and his being shimmered into more solidity for a few seconds.  But then it was back to fading.  "I don't know what I'd do without you.  You can't go, please.  You're my touchstone, you're everything.  You, Dream.  Please." 

"Be at peace, Hob Gadling.  There will always be Dreams.  That will never not be true."  Dream reached out with his other hand and cupped his palms around Hob Gadling's, dropping a small seed shaped as a sparkling bead into his palms.  "You have been a far better friend than I ever could have deserved, Hob Gadling.  I hope that you know that." 

Hob felt a tear streak down his cheek, then another, as Dream continued to hold onto his hands.  "Dream, please.  I don't care what it is, I don't care how long it takes.  Please don't go.  Let me help you.  I want to help you, I'll do anything.  Please." 

Dream lowered his eyes to their hands.  "Keep this safe.  It belongs to you now.  You can carry it.  Perhaps you were always meant to carry it, and that is why we met."  He squeezed Hob's hands once more before he stood and felt a tremble run through his being. 

Hob stuffed the bead into his pocket, pressing it as deep as it would go, before reaching out to wrap his arms around his friend, pulling him in close by his shoulders, hugging and holding onto him tightly.  "I will keep it safe until you return to get it," he growled, even though tears were pouring down his cheeks.  "This isn't goodbye, Dream.  I'm not going to let it be goodbye.  Don't you dare tell me it is goodbye." 

Dream closed his eyes and for the briefest of seconds, he imagined leaning into the warm and comforting touch.  Imagined drinking from the warmth that Hob Gadling offered until he no longer felt empty and cold.  But then Hob would be left a husk, with nothing left to give anyone, and that was a fate his friend, his only friend, did not deserve.  So instead, he allowed himself to be held for several long and precious seconds before he smiled sadly at his friend.  "It is goodbye for now, Hob Gadling.  I wish you well.  Keep the stories safe."  He turned and stepped away from Hob, into a shroud of sand. 

~!~

Hob barely managed to make it out of the pub and into his flat before he was summoning a portal, racing into the castle as soon as he was in the Dreaming, and up the spiraling stairs of Dream's throne on four paws rather than two feet.  Ahead of him, he could see Dream, wandering into his gallery, to summon his sister, to step away, now that he had given away the most important part of him.  Dream was almost see-through, almost gone, as though he himself were fading away.  He shouted Dream's name, but there was no answer, his friend was already stepping into his gallery, so he raced up the stairs, focused on getting to him, on stopping him. 

--

Dream lingered in his gallery, looking between each of the sigils, slowly spinning in their mirrors. 

Now that he'd given a part of himself to Hob Gadling, to live on as he would, as he would continue to do, because that was what he did, Dream was able to drift to his older sibling's sigils, and stare at them for a long moment.  "I wonder if you knew, from the very beginning.  I wonder if this was written, that I would end up here, right here."  Dream stared at each of them and allowed himself a few moments to wonder, to truly be curious, about how this had been his fate.  That he was meant to feel the weight of everything he had been for millenia, to bear it, truly, for the first time, and to find it impossible.  It was not worth staying if this is what he had become.  Reaching out, he stroked his fingertips across the ankh, thinking of the warmth of Hob Gadling's arms around him in a hug, holding him tight. 

His sister had truly been right to pick him, those few centuries ago.  "Sister," he called, his voice ringing in the gallery.  "I ask to come home to the Sunless Lands.  There is one who has been born to replace me, and I have left my kingdom in the care it deserves."  Dream listed forward, curling over the ankh.  "I wish to come home, sister.  Please." 

Under his fingertips, the ankh went white, and Dream closed his eyes, the familiar brush of wings, spanning endless space and time, brushed against him, pulling him forward.  He stepped into the nothingness, the last of the weight behind him beginning to fade.  He drifted forward, walking slowly, only to find his sister standing in front of him with her hand held out.  Dream let out a sigh of relief and smiled at her.  "One final walk together, sister?"

Death nodded, her smile wobbly.  "One final walk together, brother." 

Dream ached for the pain that he had caused her, asking her to come here, to take him home, but it was as welcoming as it had always been with the humans, comforting.  She was always so comforting.  And this was a comfort that he would have no struggle taking, unlike the other that had been offered to him by Hob and by Curiosity.  He knew what waited for him, and the possibility of rest, of true rest, was one that he could not see himself denying.  It was a relief to see her, it was a relief to have her here, at the end of things. 

He reached for her hand, ready to take it, when a meow behind him made him stop.  Dream turned, looking behind him in confusion, blinking at the sight of Curiosity.  "Curiosity?  Why are you here?"  Dream lifted his hand away from his sister's and turned to look at the tabby.  "I know you do not wish to be here, it is all right.  There will be another who will be willing to accept your comfort much more readily and..."

Hob took one step forward, and then another, even as every hair on his back stood up.  The cool and promising touch of Death could be felt all around him, and he recognized (without truly recognizing her) the figure on the other side of Dream.  The one that he had to stop Dream from coming with.  Somehow.  Hell if he knew precisely how, but he was going to try to figure that out.  He was not going to lose Dream.  He was not going to let Dream walk into the sunset just because he was hurting and didn't know how to ask for help.  He was not.  He would not allow that to happen. 

Hob reached out and took the bottom of Dream's robe in his mouth, giving a mighty pull around the flames that licked at the base of his feet.  He took a step back, and then another, trying to pull the Dream that was losing substantialness by the second back with him.  'Come with me.  Be curious again.  Once more, a thousand times more.  Be curious with me about tomorrow, and what it could hold.'  It was, perhaps, a foolish wish, considering where they were standing, but it was one he was going to wish a thousand times over.  Anything to stop Dream from taking those final steps forward. 

Dream looked down at Curiosity and turned away from Death briefly to kneel in front of the orange tabby who had been such a comfort in the last little while.  The creature that was part Endless, just like Hob Gadling would be, with an Endless seed growing in him.  "You have been of great comfort to me, Curiosity.  I know that's what you wished for.  But there is nothing left for me to be curious about.  It is time for me to rest.  I have earned this rest, and done my duty.  And now-"

Hob yanked harder on the robes, protesting those words with a loud whine around them.  It edged into a growl as he glared at Dream, unable to keep from glaring at him.  He was not about to let Dream, his Stranger, his Friend, go.  No matter if he thought it was time and he had to keep Dream anchored here himself, that is what he would do.  He would never let go, he was never about to let go.  Not for a second. 

"It is all right, Curiosity, it will be well," Dream soothed, his voice softening, reaching out to pet behind the ears of the orange tabby.  "It will be well.  There will be a new Dream, and he will-"

"Dream," Death interrupted, her voice soft.  "Do you not know who that is?"

Hob's eyes flew to Death and the recognition in them had him tensing with fear, but also with worry for Dream.  If this was something that upset his friend enough that he decided to leave, he would never be able to forgive himself. 

Dream frowned, twisting to look over his shoulder at her.  "It is the personification of Curiosity.  I spoke with Delirium briefly, and she informed me it had manifested and had been drawn to me when I returned." 

Delirium.  That had to be who Dream's little sister was.  The one who had charged him to save Dream, who had brought him into her realm that was so wild and colorful it made his brain ache.  The one who was keeping his human form locked, except in very specific circumstances.  Her name was Delirium. 

"He," Death said with a smile, looking down at the orange tabby who had refused to release Dream.  "Is undoubtedly precisely that.  But this is not his natural form, merely the one that is able to follow you through realms and to far more easily traverse the Dreaming, which is why I suspect that he is locked into it as he has been."  She raised her eyebrows at the cat.  "Why didn't you tell him who you were?" 

Hob gestured to Dream and opened his mouth, giving an annoyed meow.  "When I tried to, I couldn't.  But when he first asked, the answer didn't feel right.  Before I found out who I was." 

Death hummed, nodding as she stepped up beside Dream.  "Why did Delirium send you to Dream?" 

Hob looked between the two siblings, wondering just how much he could say and not lose his oldest friend.  But if it would save his life, wasn't it worth anything?  "I was supposed to help someone.  That's what she told me.  I had to help.  Then, then I found out it was Dream.  And I had to try to make him curious again.  Make him laugh."  He looked to the side.  "She said that she knew things, and that Dream was in trouble.  She wanted me to help." 

'I know things too!'

Dream could hear the echo of Delirium's assertion, the fact that she knew things, more than some of them, since her change.  Things that the rest of them had not discovered and could not know.  He drew his attention to the tabby cat, smiling sadly.  Of course Curiosity would have only approached him if ordered to do so, he would never have been enough of a draw on his own.  He should have challenged Delirium on that, right then and there.  "You have helped," he said, his voice soft.  "And I thank you for it, but now-"

Hob growled around the robe in his mouth and released it, jumping up and onto Dream's chest, digging his claws into the folds on either side of his robe, and burying his face in the cool skin of Dream's neck.  He knew so many things, and he could help so much more.  He could feel it now, this close, with this much power from earlier still flowing through him.  Dream had been curious about everything, once.  About humans, their stories, the stars, his Dreamers, his creations, all of him, brimming with curiosity that was insatiable, until his duty had robbed him of all of it. 

Dream closed his eyes and carefully pet down the back of Curiosity, even as he clung tighter, digging his claws in until he could feel the prick of them against the skin of his vessel.  It was tight enough, and strong enough, that it reminded him of a hug he had had not too long ago now.  How he had been held just as tightly, just as strongly, and clung to as desperately.  Fingers that had dug into his shoulders, holding on until he'd had to let go and...

Dream's eyes snapped open.  "Hob!"

In an instant, whatever it was that Delirium had done that was keeping him locked to the orange tabby form, Hob felt it fall away, and in an instant, it was easy to become human once again, and he and Dream were sprawled on the not-ground, with him in Dream's lap.  He let out a rough breath and shuddered, and took brief stock of himself, before meeting Dream's eyes once more.  He could feel the shift now, if he wanted to reach for it, if he wanted to slip it back on like a familiar coat, but this was one he had not worn for longer than he could remember, and it almost felt as though it didn't fit any longer.  But that didn't matter.  He could worry about that more later.  Right now, the only thing that mattered was Dream. 

"Got it in one," Hob breathed, shuddering as he held onto the edges of Dream's robes.  "Didn't think I'd make it to you in time after you raced out of the New Inn as fast as you did."  All at once, it was easy to see everything.  To see why Delirium had given him the Endless Seed.  He was predisposed to not be turned off by Dream being himself.  Hob was already his friend, and had already understood some of his struggles.  It was just as easy to see why it had manifested in him, why it had grown markedly stronger every single day.  He'd been made to save Dream, because Delirium had seen the path Dream was going down, had understood what he needed, and what was missing. 

"Why are you here?" Dream asked, thinking of the way Hob had begged him to stay in the Waking.  He had not attempted to move, and was still clinging to his robe just as tightly.  "How are you here?" 

"Someday," Hob breathed, lifting his eyes to look at Dream.  "I'll tell you of the day that I met Delirium, and how it happened, and that she charged me with being something I have always been.  Something that she needed to give me so I could try to save you."  He smiled and continued to watch Dream's eyes stay locked on him.  "My friend," he continued, his voice softening.  "I am here to give you back something you lost.  Something that you need, desperately."  His lips quirked.  "You were curious enough, for only a moment, for me to be able to do my work." 

"Your-"

Hob tilted his head a fraction more and leaned up, sealing their lips together.  The second they touched, he felt the moment Dream had been curious about, the one that had been like a lightning strike in the New Inn.  His friend had wondered, had been curious, what it would be like to kiss him.  For only a few seconds, before it had been buried under duty.  It had been gone before he'd been able to do anything about it, but now?  Now he could.  Now, Hob kissed Dream until he was being kissed back, until their lips were moving against each other, slow and hesitant, before he removed the leash on his own power.  It flooded out of him in a tidal wave and directly into Dream.

He'd been careful, over the past few months, in how he tended the Endless Seed that he had been given.  Being curious about anything and everything had served him well and it was something he had no intention of being anything less.  Hob poured all of it, all the power that he had been gathering, all of his love and interest in the Dreaming, everything about Dream himself, back into his friend.  His friend had always been a curiosity himself, in the literal and physical sense, but right now, he focused every bit of that power back into Dream.  And this close, with their lips sealed together, he could feel the repressed curiosity spanning millions of years that had been suppressed after Delight had changed and Delirium could no longer bring out the same childlike joy in Dream as easily as she once had. 

Hob grabbed those long-buried curious moments that could have led to thousands of Dreams, of ideas and hopes, and everything that made Dream what he was, and let them flood into Dream.  With it, he took the seed that Dream had given him, and shoved it back into his chest, giving him his stories back, even when Dream jolted beneath him.  An instant later, he was shoved backward from Dream, their lips falling apart as they panted.  He landed on the not ground, sprawled a few feet away from where Dream had pushed him and stared at his friend. 

"What have you done!?" Dream thundered, towering over Hob Gadling.  "What did you do to me?"

Hob breathed in deep and closed his eyes.  Whatever Dream did to him now didn't matter.  He would endure it, because now, perhaps.  Now, his friend would have enough curiosity to live.  To see the next day.  He'd saved him, exactly as Delirium had bid.  The cost of that saving did not matter.  It never had, after all.

"I gave your curiosity back to you," he announced.  "Made you remember what it was like to be curious.  To be filled with wonder."  Hob blinked his eyes open and stared at the endless white above him.  "How could you ever create dreams without wonder and curiosity?  They drive imagination, hope, stories, everything that you are and always have been, Dream."  Hob licked his lips and tilted his head back down to look at his beyond furious friend and managed a weak smile for him.  "I have heard you say again and again that you are your function, that that is what you are.  But it is not all that you are, and you should best begin believing that.  You deserve to be curious." 

Hob forced himself to his feet, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Dream, even as his friend stood as well.  His head was swimming with the amount of power that he'd pushed through himself into Dream, his entire body aching under the weight of it all.  "You, you think you're done.  You're tired, exhausted, and you think you've fulfilled all that you are.  That you can just, just leave all of us, and pass the mantle on and that's it!  As though you never mattered to us at all.  You matter!" Hob shouted the words, and they echoed in the blank space around them.  "You have always mattered, especially to me!  And I was not about to let you go without a fight!"

Dream lowered his hands to either side of him and glared at Hob Gadling.  "You have made a terrible mistake." 

"Have I?" Hob challenged, glaring right back at him.  "I"m curious, Dream.  Just how much of a mistake did I make, huh?  Tell me." 

"I am my function," Dream stated. 

"You're also a being that loves stories!" Hob growled.  "They all begin and end with you.  Are you not curious about all of the stories that will be written?  Yes, they may return to their original forms, but I refuse to believe in the years that lie ahead, there will not be a single story that is not new and engaging for you to read!"  His chest heaved, and he watched Dream snap his mouth shut.  "You're a being who was curious, at least once, about how it would feel to kiss me.  I know, I felt it!"  Hob took a step closer to him.  "You were curious about Rose, and how she and her brother were doing, because they are your family and you want to know more about them, even with everything that happened!"

Dream sighed and closed his eyes slowly, reopening them to look at Hob.  "Hob-"

"No," Hob snarled, stepping closer to Dream, even as he stumbled, doing his best to keep his feet.  "Your sister, no offense, gave you shit advice.  You don't need to bury yourself in your function.  In fact that's the last thing you need to do, because it's suffocating you!" He waved to Dream, a sprawling gesture.  "You've been doing that for centuries, and it's killing you!" 

Those words, spoken so plainly in the white room, echoed, as Hob heaved and tried to keep his balance.  Hob reached up and wiped a tear out of his eye, still glaring at Dream.  "You are creativity incarnate.  Without limits, Dream."  Hob knew he was begging, pleading now, but it was all that he had left.  "Aren't you curious, Dream?  About what Rose could grow up to be?  The dreams that she'll have?  About how Jed is going to do and heal after everything?  What adventures he might have next?  About..." he trailed off and looked up to meet Dream's eyes once more, before offering softly.  "About me?" 

"Hob Gadling," Dream said, his voice soft.  "You are my friend." 

Hob smiled, weak and wobbly, because he would never tire of hearing those words, no matter how many times they were spoken.  "And you're mine, Dream."  He swallowed, hard, wiping at his eyes.  "But that doesn't mean I'm not curious." He paused and smiled faintly, taking another step closer to where Dream was standing, swaying, as though he were caught in a spell that Hob was weaving over him. "I'm curious about how it would feel to kiss you again. Properly. That was hardly my best."  He watched Dream's eyes widen and he could feel the curiosity rising in Dream just as much.  "I'm curious about how it would feel to wrap you in my arms and hold on until both of us are ready to let go, not just because I'm worried that you're going to run."  He chewed on his lip and didn't look away from Dream.  It was the truth, as agonizing as it might have been to detail it all out like that. 

Dream opened his mouth to protest, to deny it, shaking his head, but now that the floodgates had been opened, now that he had been swarmed with Curiosity's power, he could feel those images, daydreams of his own, rising.  The same curiosity that tasted of Hob Gadling and the hope that exuded from his every pore.  The certainty that Dream was worth saving, that he was worth all of this effort, and curious as to what their future could hold.  He swayed once more, arrested by the not-story that Curiosity continued to paint of him, of them.  Of there being a them.  Something that had been impossible until just now, painted out for him.  "Soon," Dream started.  "It would become consistent.  The same.” He had seen how this story ended, again and again.  “I would no longer be a curious thing to you."  The magic would fade.  The light would follow, and Hob's, Curiosity's eyes would no longer sparkle when they looked at him. 

Hob laughed and reached out to stroke along Dream's cheek, until they were almost touching and reached out to cup Dream's jaw in his hands, looking at him.  "You are the collective unconscious, love.  There is no limit to what you are, what you will be, and who you could become.  I'm so curious about all of it, all of what you are, all that you could show me, share with me, teach me.  You can feel it, can't you?"  He didn't want to beg Dream to be able to feel all of that, but at the same time, if he could not, there would be no making it obvious to him.  He wanted nothing more than to prove this to Dream, for him to hear the truth and to believe it, down to the deepest parts of him.

Brimming with Curiosity's power, Dream could feel it.  The interest, the delight, the joy, all of it couched in a human who sought the possibility of the next day as though it were his own personal religion.  The potential of what Hob Gadling dared to offer him as an Endless, what he'd managed to unlock once more... Dream closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the true breadth of what had been buried for so long.  The warm hands on his chin kept him grounded as he reached for the fountain of ideas that was not an empty cup, but an endless waterfall, filling him with inspiration that was brimming with possibility and delight.  He gasped, and felt a forehead press against his. 

"She knew," Hob breathed, his voice a whisper, even as Dream's starry eyes flickered open to stare at him, the weight of those words echoing between them.  "She knows that it had been taken out of your reach when she lost it, when she couldn't bring it forward as easily.  So she gave it to me.  To hold and give back to you, because this is what I am.  You know it, your sister knows it.  It is the truth of what I am, and always will be."  

Hob slowly dragged a thumb across Dream's cheek when a tear finally broke free of the silvered waterline, where they were gathered and sparkling on Dream's eyelashes.  "You are so much more than your function, Dream.  You always have been.  There is so much more that can be a part of your life beyond your function.  But it starts here, it must.  Right here.  You have to be just the tiniest bit curious yourself.  It cannot be something I have given to you.  I can help you remember how, but I cannot do it for you." 

Hob paused and felt Dream tremble in front of him, his whole body threatening to shake under the weight of what Hob was putting in front of him.  "You have to wonder, the smallest amount.  A tiny seed, just like I was given, that needs to grow in you just like it has in me.  What could happen?" 

With those words, Hob settled in to wait, because there would be no rushing his decision from Dream.  Death had long since left them to where they were, this strange in-between place that Dream had fallen to.  There was a moment, as Dream watched him, where Hob expected him to turn and follow his sister where she had gone, but then Dream sank to his knees, his head falling back.  Dream took a single, heaving breath, and then all of himself that he kept restrained, that Hob had only ever seen the faintest amounts of, burst free, surrounding them.  It was so much more than he ever could have imagined, even as Curiosity, more than Dream had used in his repairs of the Dreaming, and more than he had thought it possible for Dream to carry at one time.  He was so much, all of it, an Endless flood that filled them in wave after wave. 

When it finally ended, when the last blast of Dream, and everything that he contained, settled at last around them, Hob did not feel like he was drowning, even though he was certain that he was.  There was a soft hand holding onto him, keeping him from drifting away, from being lost in the waves of everything that Dream was, and Hob clung to it, until he was standing amongst the riotous parts of Dream that had been spilled into the world around him.  Dream was floating at the center of it, all of the color bleeding out of him and into him all at once. 

"Dream?" Hob managed the word, but it felt muffled, like there was too much around them for his call to reach his friend.  The hand holding him gave an impatient tug, but it was pulling him away from Dream, and Hob pulled against it.  No, he couldn't leave Dream, not like this.  He was not going to leave his friend.  He was not going to abandon Dream to drowning in everything that he was.  "Dream!"  He pulled harder, as did the hand on his wrist, reaching out for his friend who was still at the middle of the swirling tornado of colors.  "Help him, someone has to help him!  Dream!"  Hob shouted louder, but he was swiftly being pulled away and the image of Dream was getting smaller and smaller, and he couldn't fight against whatever had a hold of him.  He was going to lose sight of Dream, and he couldn't do that, he needed to be closer. 

At last, the endless white was gone, and Hob, in his human form, was standing at the base of the stairs that led to Dream's throne.  Hob panted hard and stared up at the throne, waiting for Dream to appear.  His friend would follow, he would.  He would.  Hob clenched his hand into a fist as he heard first Lucienne, then Matthew, come running into the throne room, both of them freezing at the sight of him.  "Come back," Hob ordered, staring up at the platform that Dream liked to sit on.  But there was no sign of him yet.  His heart felt like it was caving in on itself, but he refused to believe that Dream had let him go.  He refused. 

"Where... is he?"

Hob didn't answer, he kept staring at the platform, willing Dream to appear, to follow him back into the Dreaming.  But there was no sign of him, and no matter how long he kept his vigil, Dream didn't appear.  He wiped frantically at the tears on his cheek and waited.  He was good at waiting, he could wait.  But still, the throne sat empty, and the throne room sat emptier.  Lucienne had said nothing, and had stepped into her role as running things around the Dreaming while Dream was indisposed.  And still Hob waited.  He would not believe that Dream had left. 

Day changed to night, to day, to night, until Hob lost track of time.  His heart was a raw, aching thing, but he would not give up hope yet.  Dream could not have left, and he had to believe that.  He had too, or something in him would break and he would never get it back.  But when a raven approached (Matthew), there was a sinking feeling that settled into his heart that he could not deny. 

"Luce says it would be best if you went back to the Waking.  You're making the Dreams and Nightmares nervous," Matthew said, hopping closer to Hob.  "You can, soon as I know anything bud, and I'd be one of the first to feel him if and when he comes back-"

"He will," Hob snarled, the words the first he had spoken in days. 

"Right, right," Matthew said with another hop.  "I will be the first to feel him when he does, and I will tell you right away." 

Hob turned to look at Matthew and knew that he was right, because it was what would be best for Dream's people, and he had never wanted to be a burden on those who had already gone through so much with Dream's absence.  Putting anything on them was unfair, and the last thing that he wanted to do was add to that pressure that he knew Lucienne had to be feeling at the moment.  He shook his head and turned away from the vigil that he had been keeping.  Something shattered in him, as he tore his eyes away at last, and he took a step away.  Matthew said something, but Hob held up a hand and shook him off.  He didn't want to hear it.  He couldn't.  Dream had made his choice, and it was one he would... he would have to learn to accept. 

Hob stepped into the Waking, and his old life as though nothing had ever changed.  A family emergency had happened, he had filed a leave of absence, and now the university would welcome him back as soon as the new semester started in a few weeks.  It was easy.  It was almost too easy, and Hob hated it.  Hated that he would never see his friend walk through the doors of the New Inn again.  That he would never get to feel what it would be like to have a hug from Dream, after trying to hug him as gently as possible.  He'd imagined what Dream's hugs might feel like, but it always depended on what he was feeling at the time.  Right now, he would have given anything, damn near anything, to feel and see Dream one more time. 

Dawn rose on the next day and Hob forced himself to get out of his flat, to go for a walk, to taste and breathe in the curiosity of others around him.  A few hours of walking as a human had him shifting to being a cat, where everything was so much easier and simpler.  He didn't need to talk to or interact with anyone and could go wherever he pleased, including lounging on the roof of the New Inn for hours at a time.  It kept the pigeons away at least, and that was a small benefit that he wasn't going to say no to.  But whenever he thought of the Inn, thoughts of Dream were not far behind them, and Hob ached with how much he missed his friend.  His friend who could have been so much more. 

But it didn't matter any longer.  Dream had made his choice, just like Hob had told him.  He'd had to make a choice, had to try to find a little of his own curiosity, a little of his own wonder, and if he couldn't, then this would be for the best.  Even if it hurt like hell right now.  The last thing he needed to do was lose his own curiosity and wonder, but Hob found it hard to do anything but be curious about how a relationship between them would have worked.  It probably wouldn't have.  Not for lack of trying, of course.  He would have done everything in his power to make it work.  But Dream was a very busy personification and would not want to be dragged down by Hob's more human natures. 

Though, when they had been at their happiest together, it had been the two of them lounging in the sun in Fiddler's Green. 

It was bordering on torture imagining it, and when Hob had ended up there, one night, while Dreaming, he had sobbed loud enough to wake himself up and buried his face in the pillow to cry and cry until his whole body ached.  Even chugging three glasses of water didn't help keep him from being dizzy as he crawled back into bed and fell apart once more.  He'd lost his friend, his oldest friend, the only one who knew him, who knew what he was, his best and worst moments, and now...

Hob clenched his fingers tighter in the pillows beneath him and forced himself to take a deep breath,  even when he hiccuped through it.  Heartache would pass.  Even if it took decades, even if it felt like it would never fade and it had been carved into the very core of his being.  It would fade, and eventually he would be able to move on.  He would be able to think of his friend with a fond smile.  Of the times, few as they were, shared together.  Perhaps, whoever would step into Dream's role next would remember him as well and he wouldn't be alone in remembering him. 

It was a small solace, but it was something, and Hob clung to it, tighter than he had any right to. 

Whenever he slept, he transformed into Curiosity and stayed away from the castle and Fiddler's Green.  He made his way across the Dreaming, avoiding the Dreams and Nightmares that tried to pull him into sleep so he could get proper rest.  He didn't want it.  Didn't want to know that they were still waiting for Dream (would they wait forever, or would things happen like they had last year?), or that the new Dream had stepped into his role.  All of it made him sick to think about, so Hob did his best to avoid all of it, keeping to himself as he slunk around the edges of the Dreaming, exploring and finding small little things to drive his Curiosity and prevent him from fading. 

Delirium didn't appear to him again. 

Probably because he'd failed.  He'd tried, he'd tried so hard, but he hadn't been able to save her brother, and that hurt almost as bad as losing Dream did.  To know that someone had trusted him to help and he hadn't been able to.  That he'd tried as hard as he damn well could, but it hadn't been enough.  He hadn't been enough, and next to a being like Dream, was that even a surprise?  Everything he'd seen at the end, every part of Dream unleashed, far more than his mind could comprehend, all of it threatening to swallow him, it had been beautiful, and he would have gladly been consumed by it.  Even if it had meant losing himself, he would have done that, so willingly, for Dream.  In a second.  

~!~

Piece by piece, Hob cobbled his life together once more. 

He made plans for his next life, trying to find what would drive his curiosity, before deciding that another travel tour was in order.  It was easier to make IDs for that sort of travel and then disappear when he needed to.  Far less likely to garner the attention of those who were looking, too, something he needed to stay on top of.  He would miss the New Inn, like a limb, especially now that Dream had been there, and it housed his only remaining memories of his friend, but Hob was becoming more and more certain that if he didn't leave, he would be trapped there until someone realized he wasn't aging.  Though people didn't burn witches in this day and age, he wasn't willing to risk coming under that level of scrutiny. 

So he took a deep breath and made plans.  It'd take another couple of years for everything to be ready as he had requested, and to have the things built and the stashes built up like he wanted, but that was more than enough time to finish everything that he had in front of him.  At the very least, having those plans made those around him stop asking what had happened to him or who had died.  He hadn't been willing to accept that Dream had taken his sister's hand, even when they asked, so he had avoided the question again and again, letting them make their own assumptions.  It didn't matter.  He had to believe that Dream still alive. 

Even if it wasn't true, he had to believe it. 

The bell above the door in the New Inn rang and Hob stubbornly ordered himself to keep his eyes on the papers in front of him.  He needed to finish grading them, and he was curious to see what his students had selected for their extra credit answer.  There was something, at least, pulling at him, pulling at the power within him, and Hob allowed himself the faintest of smiles as he marked off another row of answers.  It wouldn't take him long to finish this now that he had a proper answer key written up, it was only the essay part-

A throat cleared. 

Hob looked up, ready to glare at whoever had interrupted him, because he was in the middle of...

He stared at Dream, his Dream, the familiar all-black ensemble almost out of place in the summer heat, shock rippling over him in waves as he nearly knocked the table over in his hurry to stand up.  "Dream!"

"Hello Hob," Dream answered.  "It is good to see you." 

Hob shoved the table out of the way and ignored the way his hip was going to regret that in the morning and made his way in front of Dream, cataloguing everything else that seemed to be the same.  Same jeans, Doc Martens, shirt, and coat.  Same spiky black hair, and same blue eyes that crinkled the smallest amount at the corners.  "You're," he swallowed, panic still flooding him as he stared at the personification in front of him.  "You're, you're still you?  You're not a different Dream, are you?"  He shook, trying to hold himself still, not wanting to impose, to demand too much, but Dream was here, he was finally here. 

Dream smiled again and dipped his chin, nodding once.  "It is me, Hob." 

"Oh thank fuck," Hob breathed, and cupped Dream's face in his palms and yanked him in for a desperate kiss.  There was a wolf whistle from behind the bar, and several cheers across the pub, but he didn't care about any of it, because Dream was pressing up and into the kiss, thin arms were wrapping around him to hold on tighter, and Hob wanted to sob into the kiss, because it was everything he'd ever wanted, especially when Dream's free hand cupped his face and kept him pulled in close.  By the time they broke apart for air, he was panting, and there were tears streaming down his cheeks as he leaned in to press their foreheads together.  "Dream." 

"I'm here, Hob," Dream repeated, reaching up to comb his fingers through Hob's hair, brushing it back from his face.  "May I bring you upstairs?  I would like for us to talk." 

Hob had never packed up his things so quickly, and he wiped off his face and took Dream's hand, hauling him upstairs to his flat, tossing his bag off his shoulder by the door, before striding into the kitchen to make tea.  Dream followed behind him, his feet bare of his doc martens, and his arms bare.  A quick glance showed his jacket hanging up and his shoes placed in the hallway, a sight Hob had to stare at for several seconds to even believe was real, before he went back into automatic mode and got them both mugs. 

"You're in shock," Dream surmised, watching as Hob went about the steadying rhythm of making tea, putting the bags in the mugs, reaching for the hot water just as it finished boiling, filling both of them to allow them to steep.  There was a shakiness to his limbs that was present, and his eyes kept darting over, as though he was afraid that he would disappear.  "Hob.  Will you look at me?" 

Hob swallowed and put both his hands on the counter, before he lifted his eyes to look at Dream, to meet the concern in his eyes and feel his heart, which had been mourning his friend, and everything that they had potentially lost together for what felt like weeks now.  He didn't know how to feel, or where they were going to go from here.  Dream had kissed him back, had held him tight, but that didn't mean anything.  Not really. 

"I'm here," Dream said, keeping his eyes on him.  "I am here." 

The weight of those words, as though Dream were saying them with the gravity that he might believe them, had Hob trembling and he looked at the steeped tea in front of him.  How long had Dream been gone?  How long had he waited in the Dreaming, only to be sent here to try to return to his life.  He swallowed and nodded once.  "I know," he whispered.  "I know you're here." 

It was almost torture not to ask what had happened, to demand answers, to know where Dream had been, what he had been doing, how they had ended up like this, and why it had taken Dream so long to come back.  He wanted to know, wanted to demand to know.  Even though it wasn't his place to demand those sorts of answers.  If Dream wanted to tell him, he could.  He swallowed again and reached out to take out the tea bags, putting them to the side and adding cream and sugar to both their mugs, pushing Dream's toward him, before he lifted his to take a sip of the scalding drink.  At least this was real. 

"It is good to see you again, Dream," Hob finally managed, after he'd taken another two sips and definitely burnt his tongue.  It was worth it to make sure that things were real.  That what was happening around him was the truth in every possible way.  He couldn't handle it if he had to lose Dream again, if he got ripped away from him and had to lose him all over again. 

Dream looked down at the mug of tea and wrapped his hands around it.  "You will not ask, will you?"

Hob tensed, his shoulders hunching.  "I, I might have pried when I was Curiosity, but I-"

Dream hummed, interrupting him.  "But where I welcomed it when you were Curiosity, I punished you for it as yourself."  He nodded.  "I have erred in this way." 

Steeling himself, ordering himself to be brave, to face whatever was about to happen, Hob forced himself to ask.  "What happened?  At, at the end there?" 

"Many things," Dream allowed.  "To you, is perhaps the easiest thing to start with.  Delirium pulled you away from me.  I owe her a great debt for this.  You would have drowned, and possibly been trapped in the Dreaming forever if you had stayed.  I would not have wished that for you, not under any circumstance.  She removed you to make sure that it didn't happen."  He paused and looked up at Hob.  "I heard you fighting to get back to me." 

Hob swallowed and wiped away a tear that wanted to escape, clearing his throat.  "Yeah, of course I fucking did," he grumbled, rolling his shoulders.  "I thought I was going to lose you if I didn't stay with you, and I didn't know what was happening.  What happened to you?"

Dream looked back down at the tea mug and rubbed his thumb along the rim of it, letting out a considering hum.  "I do not, know if there is an accurate way to describe what happened, but the closest I can articulate it, perhaps.  Is that I was destroyed, and then remade by the Dreaming." 

"Destroyed?" Hob asked, his voice cracking on the word.  "You were destroyed?" 

"Not, in the sense that you are imagining it," Dream answered, looking at the mug, before he looked around at the room.  He pooled sand into his hand and held it out to Hob.  "Imagine a material that is, and can be, constantly in flux."  He formed a shape, himself, his vessel, but made sure Hob could clearly see it was still made of sand.  "It is never one thing, but many things, to many different creations, all at once, all at the same time."  He turned his hand, so the image would change every few seconds, but it was still the same figure. 

"When you flooded me with Curiosity's power..." Dream let the sand change, and a series of shining bright crystals moved through the sand figure, one after another, until it was almost entirely mixed with the sand.  "It was a return to a form I had once been, and I could feel that."  He shifted himself again and grew the figure taller and taller.  "But because I am the Dreaming, your power also did this to the Dreaming.  Had it been confined to my form, there would have been no issue.  But because the Dreaming itself was also reset with your gift..." Dream gestured to the sand that exploded outward, the figure disappearing as everything was wiped clean and replaced, now with the diamond dust inside it, and the figure regrown.  "Everything was remade." 

There was a part of him that wanted to rub his forehead and say that none of that made sense.  But the part of him that was Endless, like Dream, the curious part of him that had given Dream back what he lost, understood, and he nodded.  "So the Dreaming was also affected?" 

Dream nodded once.  "It was what took me so long to reform."  He lifted his eyes to Hob's, briefly.  "I could feel you waiting.  You knew to wait.  You were right to do so.  You knew I would return, and you knew not to leave.  But it took me much longer than I expected."  He gave Hob another glance.  "The Dreaming, in my absence, is thousands of times larger than it was when I left, and I had not grown with it.  That disparity was why it took me so long to return.  As soon as I did, and ensured all was well, I came here." 

Hob took a longer sip of his tea and sniffled into it.  It was the best possible outcome for what had happened.  Dream might have still been hurting, but now he was curious again.  He smiled, from time to time.  He looked happier, and his lips were just the tiniest bit pink from where Hob had bit them earlier while they kissed.  He was beautiful, and Hob wanted him, as much as he had always wanted Dream.  But he had always known that Dream wasn't his to have, no matter what his heart had cried out for.  That didn't mean he was any less curious, because he was, but Dream deserved to have what he wanted, and now he would be able to have that. 

"I'm so glad to know that you're all right," Hob said, and it was honesty, when he smiled at Dream, even after he finished his tea, putting the mug down.  "I was so worried." 

Dream nodded and turned his attention to the mug of tea once more.  "I have... I do, miss your presence.  In the Dreaming.  As Curiosity."  He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the mug.  "You will... not stay away?"  He lifted his eyes to look up at Hob. 

The hope in Dream's eyes, the longing there, had Hob aching, and he wanted to pull Dream into another kiss, into his lap, and never let him move, ever again.  He would kiss Dream every single way that he knew, and then a thousand more, until he had sated his curiosity and discovered a thousand other things to be curious over about Dream.  Hob managed a smile and nodded.  "I will not stay away," he confirmed.  "You are still my friend, Dream.  Always will be, as far as I am concerned.  You're not getting rid of me that easily." 

"Friends," Dream repeated, frowning, his nose wrinkling.

Hob ordered himself not to panic, because Dream didn't show any signs of anger or frustration, only hurt confusion.  He could be storming out again, but he wasn't, not yet, and he cleared his throat.  "I, yes?" 

"And if I am..." Dream paused, before putting the mug down, standing up.  He moved around the counter to stand next to Hob Gadling, reaching out to tug on his arm until Hob was facing him.  "If I am... curious?” 

Hob's breath caught and his eyes widened as he stared up at Dream.  "What are you curious about, Dream?" 

"If I am curious... about kissing you all the ways you daydream about?"  He took a step forward and reached out to press his thumb to Hob's lower lip.  "If I am curious about how you would court me, and I may court you?"  He stepped closer still, his other hand going to Hob's waist, tugging him closer.  "If I am curious about how I might love you, because I suspect you have loved me for a very long time?"  He paused, watching Hob's eyes carefully.  "How might the personification of Curiosity suggest we proceed?" 

Every single use of the word curious sent a bolt of heat and power flooding through him, but Hob was locked in place, transfixed as Dream moved closer and closer, surrounding him so completely it was everything he could do not to shake apart under the teasing.  At Dream's final question, his heart leaping into his throat, and unable to keep the grin off his cheeks, Hob turned and pressed a kiss to Dream's thumb against his lips.  "I think that I might keep you curious about some of those for a little bit longer," he breathed, still grinning.  "Some of the fun is in the discovery after all." 

When Dream's thumb was pulled away from his lips, a rueful smile on his face, Hob reached up and tangled his fingers into Dream's hair and pulled him into another desperate kiss.  All at once, Dream came alive again, holding onto him tightly, tugging him closer and more insistently as they both leaned into it, even as Hob felt himself get pressed back against the counters.  Everything else, the courting, the proper confessions, all of it could wait, because it would be a very long time before he wanted to stop kissing Dream.  And he was curious just how long Dream could hold his breath while they kissed, which made Dream chuckle against his lips. 

Hob pulled back to stare at Dream with a raised eyebrow, his own lips feeling red and bruised, a perfect mirror for Dream's, and that was enough to have his heart skipping.  "What is it?" 

"I suspect you will find a boundless amount of things to be curious about," Dream said, cupping Hob's face once more, pulling him into another kiss.  "And I am eager to indulge all the daydreams I can see." 

Hob nodded and leaned into the kiss, before he broke it and buried his face in Dream's neck, wrapping his arms around the skinny man in front of him.  "Let me hold onto you for a few minutes first?  I just want to remind myself that you're here and this isn't a dream." 

"Oh but it is a dream," Dream whispered.  "Your Dream, as a matter of fact.  Pulled directly from your fantasies for you to enjoy here, in the Waking world.  I thought it fitting to give you such indulgence."  He shifted them and wrapped Hob into his arms, cradling Curiosity, Hob, close, nuzzling into his hair.  It was the work of a moment to lift Hob, one arm behind his back and another under his knees, carrying him over to the couch, before he sat down with Hob in his lap, where he seemed determined to press as close as he could. 

Hob muffled his laugh in Dream's shoulder as he was carried like a damsel over to the couch, and then situated properly in his lap and leaned in to press his nose to Dream's neck, nuzzling in against the pale skin.  It felt real.  Everything about this felt real, Dream's arms around him, the quiet thrum of Dream's power that he could feel under him that was radiating off the other Endless and the longer they sat here together, the weaker the suffocating grief felt.  "I do love you, you know.  Impossible creature.  I don't know how I couldn't love you after we played tag together in Fiddler's Green.  Was gone for you a long time before that, but that just made me sure."

Dream chuckled and tightened his arms around Hob.  "I would very much like it if you still visited the Dreaming as Curiosity.  I have missed you there the past day." 

Hob let out a shaky exhale and shifted so he could wrap his arms around Dream's skinny chest, nodding against him.  "I'd love to.  Can't be there all the time, but I would love to be able to come and visit whenever I am in the Dreaming." 

Dream reached up and combed his fingers through Hob's hair, humming. 

Hob felt the zing of power hit him and shuddered, panting against Dream's neck.  Dream had been curious about his hair.  How soft it was, and now that he'd started, he was flooded with everything else.  How curious Dream was about how he would sound in bed together.  How curious Dream was about Hob's preferences, how he would enjoy being loved.  He was curious about everything, and Hob groaned against Dream's neck and leaned up to nip at Dream's jaw.  "I'm an emotional wreck and you're going to turn me into a horny mess, that isn't fair love." 

"What can I say," Dream breathed, his voice soft as he tipped Hob's chin toward him, catching those familiar brown eyes.  "I'm curious."

[dsudis]

To Be Brand New || Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling || Explicit || 1/25 || 5,670 words

Book 7: Brief Lives (The Sandman), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, at least during this story, Age Regression/De-Aging, Slow Burn, like the slowest burn, Like One of Them Is A Pre-Sexual Child for the First 100K, What If The Red String Of Fate Was Also A Toddler Leash, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Protective Hob Gadling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Caretaking, Bathing/Washing, Sharing a Bed, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Illnesses, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Not Exactly Loss of Virginity But Kinda?, Implied/Referenced Monsterfucking, Happy Ending

On a rainy day in the Dreaming, Dream of the Endless watches the dreamfolk doting on Daniel Hall, and wishes he could be someone small enough to be loved. Hob Gadling has waited a long time for a chance to be closer to his stranger. This isn't the way he ever imagined it happening, but he does love nothing better than being surprised.

Chapter 1: And so, he changed.

[Read on Ao3 here!]

[scifrey]

you requested more Keepsakes prompts, and I have to say, I LOVE the way you write Eleanor. perhaps some little scene from her married life with Hob? general domestic bliss? or something less blissful, like getting into their first bad argument and figuring out how to deal with it?

alternatively, Hob and Morpheus go on holiday and Morph is very bad at taking vacations...

xo @hardly-an-escape

Oooooooooh. What an excellent prompt. Thank you!

Keepsakes: A Kissing Bough

Fandom: The Sandman Series: Hob Adherent Series Rating: Slightly Spicy. Please curate your experience accordingly. Pairing: Hob/Eleanor

Hob and his wife have been charged with finishing the decorations before Christmas Morning and the start of the Twelvetide celebrations.

Eleanor's parents call her 'Nell' at home. It is a common enough diminutive for Eleanor, as common as 'Hob' had been in the mid 1400s, when it seemed that every Robert he met went by it.

The problem is, Hob didn't know that was her nickname. They'd been married eleven months, and he'd been calling her 'El' the whole time.

But how was he to know? The Giffords only ever called her Eleanor in public, and called him the full 'Sir Gadlen' or, 'my son-in-law', even after his marrying into the family.

No friendly "Robert-my-boy!"s from Master Gifford as Hob had secretly hoped for, as his own father had once chortled while thumping him playfully on the shoulder. The man still resented Hob for his lack of old-family connections, for all that he'd mellowed toward Hob after seeing how seriously Hob took his duties as Husband and Father. And where Master Gifford led, his wife dutifully, dolefully followed. 

Not even a nice cordial "Robb dear" from Mistress Gifford in all those months.

So it is quite a surprise when, after the elder Mistress Gifford's after-supper lamp had finally burned down, and she declares her old eyes too weary to continue her needlework by firelight alone, she calls Eleanor 'Nell'.

Her husband had gone straight to bed after their meager supper, grumbling heartily about the privations of the Advent fast and how a morning of eggy pies and the Twelvetide feasts could not come fast enough.

With no husband to chivvy along before her, Mistress Gifford rises from her stately chair by the hearth in the Great Hall, and bestows each of the three Gadlens arrayed on the piled furs on the floor before it a fond kiss on the forehead. One to Hob, who helps steady her with a gentle hand on her elbow as she stoops, her own hand on his shoulder, to offer the kindness. Then one for her daughter, sat opposite him. And the last to her grandson, dozing with all the abandon of a small creature who knows that it is utterly safe and utterly loved, in his moses basket beside Hob's knee.

 As she kisses them, she murmurs, "Happy Christmas Robb, Nell, my wee little Redbreast."

"Nell?" Hob asks, as soon as his mother-in-law has creaked her way out of the room. "Why have you not told me you are called Nell?"

"It is grim," she pouts. "It sounds very much like knell , wouldn't you say?" This is accompanied by a theatrical shudder that makes her bosom jiggle, and so burns its way into Hob's memories for that alone. "Death knell."

"Ah, never mind that. Death's a mug's game," Hob says, and cups her fire-warmed cheeks in his palms to bestow his own kisses on his wife. "I'm never going to die, so you shall never need ring out for me." Eleanor giggles as he digs his fingers into her hips for leverage, and scoots her closer to him, so he can bury his face against the pleasing softness of her neck. "Though you may keen in other ways for me, should you like."

"Hob!" El laughs. "Pray, do not leave a mark , we have to sit at the top table with my father in the morn—"

He had promised El that he would tell her his secret when they'd been married forty years, but here, sitting by the fire in the Great Hall, surrounded by warmth and plenty, the proof of his devotion to this life wheezing out the sweetest little snores a babe could make, he was tempted to break that oath and confess all.

There was something about the Twelvetide that encouraged confession, even now as a Protestant celebration, without a confessional to be had in a Catholic church.

"Enough," El gasps at length, pink-cheeked and panting prettily. "We have work to do, and if you wake Robyn I will be very cross with you."

The elder Giffords had left their daughter and son-in-law, with their youthful energy, to finish the kissing boughs before Christmas morning. It was well on midnight now, the feeble light from the rush-tapers dwindling and the fire in the big stone hearth beginning to fade to nothing but toasty-red coal. It was just the right sort of fire for toast.

Hob says as much.

"It is always one appetite or another with you," El huffs with a roll of her eyes, but rises. "I shall go to the kitchen, but I will share not a morsel with you when I return if these last boughs are not woven when I return. And do not throw the remaining greenery into the fire to make it look like you finished, Robert Gadlen," she scolds, catching him thinking that very thing. "There are to be twelve Crowns of Green, and I know how to count."

Hob plucks the hem of her skirt off the furs, and brings it to his lips for a revenant kiss. "As my Queen commands." 

She frees herself with a smirk and an imperious tug, and sways away to the kitchen.

"There, Robyn my lad," Hob says to his son, who has opened his dark eyes just long enough to take in the spectacle of Hob's oath. "That is how you keep your wife happy. Learn the art from me, my fine wee apprentice, and you will make of me a very indulgent and biddable grandfather in no time at all."

Robyn smacks his lips, clearly unimpressed with his father's training, and returns to sleep.

Hob is in the process of tying off the ribbons of the final garland when El returns with a napkin bundle consisting of a fresh bottle of wine, an old loaf of bread, and a tiny pot of new butter. 

Hob prefers old butter, likes the tangy burst of salt on his tongue, and his darling wife knows this. As such, she has also nicked one of the leftover bundles of sea salt that are meant to be gifts for her father's servants at his annual St. Stephan's feast, so Hob can powder his toast as he likes.

This is what love is, he muses, as he cuts them slices of bread with his belt-knife, and El retrieves the toasting forks from their hook by the hearth. Old bread, and stolen salt, a sneaky taste of butter before the advent fast is officially over, and a babe sleeping with his little milk-pout mouth gaping open like a little boor.

As Hob threads the bread onto the fork tines, and holds them carefully over the coals, El busies herself by tidying up the leftover sprigs of greenery. Bringing the winter growth indoors to remind the world that no winter lasts forever, that life persists and waited under the snow even now, is a tradition older than Hob himself.

He's seen Twelvetide traditions come and go, but this one persists, as immutable and comforting as knowing that in a year ending with eighty-nine, Hob's Stranger will be waiting for him.

It is nice to be younger than something.

El bundles her posy of leftover holly and mistletoe, finishing it with a crimson-red ribbon, then stands and dangles it over his head to coax a kiss out of Hob. He leans back against her legs, tips his chin up obligingly, and lets her fold down to meet him.

"If you continue to distract me, I will burn the toast, dearest wife," Hob murmurs into her mouth.

"That would be a waste," El agrees. She releases Hob to his duties, but does not relinquish the posy.

They eat toast, and brush away the crumbs and butter grease on the napkin, and share the bottle of wine between them, and laugh, and whisper in hushed voices. El holds the posy over the moses basket, and they kiss Robyn's fat cheeks. She dangles it over her head, and Hob kisses her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the dear swell of her chin. She loops the ribbon on his belt, and takes him in her mouth. When he has come to his pleasure with his fist jammed in his own mouth to prevent waking the baby, he hooks the posy on her belt and breaks his fast in the cool darkness before the dawn.

In all, they have quite a splendid Christmas morning indeed.

Like her mother before her, El chivvies her boys up to bed before the night grows too light. Robyn wakes long enough to whimper for his own break of fast, and Hob cuddles El up between his legs on the bed so he can hook his chin over her shoulder and watch Robyn's eyelashes flutter as he drinks his fill.

Morning will come soon enough.

The Christmas cake would be served to mark the official end of Advent, Hob's father-in-law would get his eggy pie, and they would all go to church so Eleanor could show off her new son to her old parish. The days of the Saints would be filled with acts of charity, feasting, dancing and delight. Someone would find the Bean in the Bread and be named the Lord of Misrule, and they would play silly games, and drink too much, and wrestle, and jest, and sing. On the Twelveth Night, Hob would gift his wife with the handsome leather-bound notation book he'd commissioned for her, a place for her to record her favorite composition. To Robyn, who was too young to know what presents and Twelvetide were, he would gift a handsome toy duck he'd spent the Advent carving. It had slappy leather feet attached to little wheels with hobnails, which clattered and flapped when one towed it along on a string.

And then the decorations will be removed from the house in order to preserve the good luck accrued through the Twelvetide, and the Gadlens would bid the Giffords a Happy New Year, and tromp home to their estate on the unfashionable south bank. Hob would review the profits for the year with Mr. Fletcher, his steward, and visit his warehouses with a gift of ale and an afternoon's leisure for his dockworkers, and come Candlemas, he'd join his groundsmen in rolling up their sleeves and readying the fields to feed the estate anew on Plough Monday.

But for now, Hob will keep his peace.

Christmas is not a time for such a confession as the one that teased at him.

"Dearest Nell," he says. "Darling Nell. My sweet call to ruination."

"No, no, you brute, stop calling me that," she gasps as he wriggled the three of them down into a comfortable nest of feathered pillows and thick wool blankets.

"My ruin?" Hob asks, mouth resting against her nape as Robyn stretched and unlatched, offering his fist to his father now that his tummy is full and he is ready to be spoiled in other ways.

Eleanor rolls over to hand the baby to Hob to wind.

"That name, you wretched, wretched man," she complains, burying herself into his side as he pats Robyn's bottom obligingly. "Call me Nell again and I shall really make you regret it."

"If that is your command, my queen, my wife, my Eleanor." He kisses her crown, her forehead, her shoulder with each oath. "Sweet El."

He expects her to reply to him with haughty teasing, but when she does not, he shifts Robyn out of the way to look at her face. She is already asleep.

"You see, my wee lad?" Hob whispers to his son. "That is how it is done."

Robyn spits up on his shoulder to show his appreciation for the lesson.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

What Lies Beyond Fear

Summary:

Dream decides to visit Hob a day earlier than their agreed appointment.

He learns about modern-day Halloween traditions, and what it means to have nothing to fear.

Word Count: 4,635

Notes (more at the end):

For All Hallows Sadman 2024 hosted by @mr-sadman 🎃

Prompt: Trick or Treat

[Read on AO3]

---

Dream ducks under fake cobwebs hanging on trees and sidesteps around a candy stall as he makes his way to The New Inn. He could, of course, have just appeared on its doorstep, but he finds that he likes the walk, as it reminds him of the first time he took the path. The first time he had seen Hob again after more than a century.

The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow on the pub as Dream draws closer, and he sees a poster on its wall advertising an upcoming Halloween party tomorrow. Drinks would be at a discounted price if one were to attend in costume.

“My friend!”

Dream turns his gaze away from the poster to look at Hob, already approaching him from the other side of the open doorway.

“You're here early,” Hob smiles when he reaches him. “I'm not complaining, though.”

Dream finds that it is easy to return the smile. It always is now. With Hob.

“I simply took your advice and accepted more help with my work from Lucienne and Matthew. They all but pushed me out of my own castle when I said I wanted to visit you a day earlier than what we agreed on.”

Hob beams at him, and it makes something warm bloom in Dream’s chest. “Well, I should remember to thank them later. Wanna come inside, then?” he nods to the interior of the pub.

Dream nods, and Hob leads the way inside to their usual table, talking about how the Halloween party was a spontaneous idea that only came about less than a week ago.

Dream keeps his eyes on Hob the entire time, not wanting to miss a moment of it. His feet have memorised the way to their table, and so he is free to give his full attention to his friend.

He has grown rather fond of Hob's face this century; the way his eyes light up when telling a story, how he gestures with his hands more as his excitement grows, as if his body couldn't possibly contain all the happiness he is feeling, the way his eyebrows lift and his lips quirk up in a smile when Dream says something he finds surprising. That was what he endeavoured to see today, why he surprised Hob with his unannounced visit. Needless to say, the reality of it is even better than his expectations.

“Is Halloween also celebrated as a romantic event nowadays?” Dream asks curiously as they sit across from each other.

“What? No, why?” Hob furrows his eyebrows.

“I see the daydreams of your patrons. A handful of them are hoping to ask someone as their date to your gathering tomorrow. They have romantic intentions.”

“Oh!” Hob chuckles. “No, humans just do that. Ask someone to be their date to parties as an excuse to spend time together.”

Dream tilts his head a fraction to the side. “I am not certain I understand the need for such an excuse. Would it not be simpler to ask to spend time together regardless of gatherings?”

“Well, you know,” Hob looks down and picks up the round cardboard coaster, tapping the side idly on the table. “Sometimes it's scary to ask that, especially if you don't know what the other person likes to do. It's easier to invite them to a party, where there's already something to do.”

“Ooh Professor G! I didn’t know you’d bring a date!” a young lady wearing a witch’s cape and hat playfully says.

Hob chuckles good-naturedly. “Ah no, this is Dream. My—”

“Date. Yes. I am Hob’s date this evening.” Dream smiles at Hob.

Dream blinks himself out of Hob’s daydream. He always makes an effort to respect the privacy of his friend’s thoughts, but that particular one was so sharp and sudden that it caught him off-guard.

Curious. Hob daydreams of people mistaking him as his date. And him confirming it with a smile. That does not make sense. It would imply that Hob has romantic feelings for him. And why would he, when he has lived among humans for nearly seven centuries and experienced all their warmth and joviality?

Before this century they had only had six meetings, none of which had lasted a full day. Surely Hob would not prefer the cold aloofness of him compared to all the interesting humans within his reach in his daily life.

“Dream? Are you alright?” Hob’s eyebrows knit together in concern.

Dream focuses on his friend once more. “Yes. I was merely… pondering.”

“A penny for your thoughts, then?” Hob’s expression is open, encouraging. As he has always been after Dream told him the reason behind his absence in 1989.

Dream could ask. About Hob’s daydream. It is normal for friends to ask questions.

“I hope my sudden appearance has not intruded on any prior plans.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you were thinking about?”

Dream glances down. It is also normal for friends to be considerate of another’s time. And much more acceptable than inquiring upon one’s private thoughts.

“Don’t worry about that, mate, I’m always glad to see you. I have to chaperone a friend’s kids later tonight for trick-or-treat, but until then we can just be here. Unless you wanna chaperone with me.”

Dream looks at Hob again, trying to discern if he correctly interpreted the hopefulness in that last remark.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Hob says hurriedly. He clears his throat. “The kids’ parents are my colleagues, and they have to attend a seminar tonight so they asked if I could chaperone their kids since they live nearby.” He looks at his watch. “That’s in a little over two hours from now, though. We have plenty of time.”

Dream wants to point out that that is not nearly enough time. That they spend several hours together in their weekly meetings, sometimes until late into the night when Dream remembers that immortal though he is, Hob’s body still needs sleep. At which point they would continue their conversations in the Dreaming, lounging in the couches in the library or under the shades of trees in Fiddler’s Green.

Therefore, no. Two hours is not plenty of time.

“Dream? Is it really bothering you?” The concern has returned in Hob’s eyes.

“I am merely puzzled by these new human traditions. In times past, when this festival had varying names, it was often associated with bonfires and commemoration of the dead. Plastic spiders and masked children asking for sweets are all quite new to me.”

“Ah, yeah, it was a bit surreal to me at first too,” Hob reminisces. “But it’s nice to see an old solemn festival evolve into something that makes people more cheerful, you know? There’s something beautiful in seeing happiness around you.”

Dream keeps his gaze on Hob, on the curve of his lips and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. The same man who had sat across from him talking about chimneys and playing cards and handkerchiefs with raw wonder in his voice.

Dream returns the smile. “Indeed. Perhaps I can learn more about Halloween in this century. If your offer to chaperone with you still stands.”

“Of course,” Hob says immediately, his face brightening in a way that further convinces Dream he made the right choice by proposing to extend their meeting past two meager hours. “Oh I forgot to get us food, sorry. Give me a moment.” He turns and calls the attention of one of his staff.

“You are aware that I do not need food.”

“Yeah, but you enjoy it,” Hob winks at him before turning to the waiter. “I’d like a strawberry scone and my usual coffee, and a blueberry muffin and hot chocolate for my friend.” He turns to Dream for confirmation.

“It appears you know me well,” Dream concedes.

Hob grins at him and thanks the waiter who promptly passes their order on to the kitchen.

They talk, as they always do in their meetings. Hob listens with rapt attention while Dream tells him of his work in his realm, and Dream wonders if Hob is aware that his own stories of how his week had gone captivate Dream in much the same way.  

Dream thinks it is because he is the Prince of Stories that Hob’s tales have such an effect on him, no matter how mundane they may seem. It is not until Hob asks if he wants to have another cup of hot chocolate that Dream realises it is quite the opposite; Hob sees him beyond his function, and wishes to spend time with him simply because they are friends. It is not something that he is overly familiar with. Spending time with a friend. He has far more experience being the Lord of Dreams. Although it appears that he finds more pleasure in being a friend. With Hob.

Two hours fly by quickly—as Dream had known they would—and Hob says that he should get dressed before picking up the kids at their house.

“Is there a dress code for Halloween?” Dream furrows his eyebrows.

“Of course. Costumes.” Hob grins. “Even the chaperones get dressed up here every year. Wanna come upstairs? You can read in the living room while I change.”

They vacate their table and go upstairs to Hob’s flat as they had done many times before. The motions are so familiar that the situation almost feels domestic. And Dream wonders if Hob feels it, too.

“Right then, make yourself at home,” Hob says easily when they reach his living room.

“Do you say this to all your friends? Offer your home as theirs?” Dream trails his fingers along the books on Hob’s coffee table. The stack is higher now than when he first came here. He sits down on the couch to peruse the titles along the spines, and finds that the books are those he had expressed a preference to in their previous meetings.

Hob falters in his step and stops walking. “Oh, um, I haven’t really invited anyone else over since I moved here. I’ve got all these things from my past lying around, like that vase from the 1800s, and that music box from 1902. And other things that would be more difficult to pass off as part of an art collection. It’s just easier if I don’t need to worry about explaining them.”

Dream glances around, realising what Hob means. He has decorated his home to have pieces of the different lives he had lived, has chosen to keep things from his past that he holds close to his heart and doesn’t want to forget.

And Dream is sitting among them.

Dream should say something. Friends express appreciation to each other, he recently learned. He should tell Hob how honoured he feels to be allowed to see all this, to share the same space as Hob’s most cherished memories. Hob should know about the blooming warmth in Dream’s chest, about how perhaps this place is beginning to feel like home to him as well.

“You should get changed.”

Hob blinks. “Ah, right. Won’t be long. There’s some food in the fridge if you want any.” He disappears into his bedroom.

Dream sighs. It seems that he is far more articulate as the Prince of Stories than he is as a friend.

He picks up a book from the top of the stack—a fantasy novel he had begun to read at a previous visit—and continues to read where he had left off, idly wondering how humans learned to express themselves through words.

Several minutes pass before he hears Hob’s voice again.

“That’s everything, I think. I considered an eye patch but I don't wanna be walking around at night with just one eye, especially since I'm chaperoning.”

Dream glances up from his book and sees Hob wearing black leather boots that nearly come up to his knees, brown trousers, a loose white v-neck shirt tucked in, and a long black coat with gold accents at the collar and cuffs. Around his waist is a wide brown leather belt affixed with a scabbard and a gun holster, holding a cutlass and a pistol, respectively. Both of which are evidently made of plastic.

Preoccupied as he had been with his sentiments about Hob and his home, Dream had not stopped to wonder what Hob’s costume might be. He wears it well. His padded thighs and broad shoulders carry the clothes splendidly, and there is a glimpse of chest hair from beneath the low neckline.

“Don't laugh at me,” Hob warns playfully.

Dream blinks and lifts his gaze to his friend's eyes.

“I've got a fake sword and I'm not afraid to use it.”

“You are a pirate.” The past several minutes have not returned eloquence to Dream.

“Yep. That pirate show’s still stuck in my head.”

“That does not look like the ensemble of Edward Teach.”

“Because I'm not wearing that much leather,” Hob says pointedly. “Otherwise I'll be sweating in half an hour.”

Dream huffs out a chuckle. “Am I correct to assume that friends wear matching costumes on Halloween?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Why?”

Dream closes his eyes and conjures the image in his mind. The black leather boots, the black shirt tucked loosely in black trousers, the low neckline mostly covered by the black scarf tied neatly around his neck. The ring on his left index and little fingers, inlaid with rubies. The rapier hanging by the black belt around his hips.

He opens his eyes and stands up, neatly returning the book to the coffee table.

Hob is staring at him with his mouth open, his eyes running over every detail of Dream's clothing as if intending to imprint them in his memory.

Dream smiles in satisfaction at Hob's reaction. “I do like the Gentleman Pirate’s attire but I have a preference for black. I do not think he would mind the colour change.”

Hob blinks and meets his gaze. “You… Is that a real sword?”

Dream glances down at it and waves his hand to change it into plastic. “Not anymore.”

Hob chuckles, seeming to shake himself out of a trance. “Why a pirate, too?”

“I want everyone to know we are together.”

The smile melts off Hob’s face and he swallows, eyes flicking down to Dream’s mouth.

Hob surges forward to press their lips together, his hands cupping Dream's face—

Dream nearly gasps as he closes the walls around Hob's daydream. It is even more vivid than the last.

It is rare for him to manifest a heart in his human form. He finds no point to it, and oftentimes it simply slips his mind to form one.

Yet now it thuds inside his ribcage, every beat echoing in his ears like a measure of a song saying Yes, I want that. Now.

Dream swallows and puts his hands behind his back, gripping his wrist in order to prevent himself from grabbing at Hob and pushing him against his shelf of memorabilia, imprinting another memory into his mind and body that he shan't soon forget.

Dream looks at the door and takes a steadying breath. “Shall we go, then? I do not wish to make you late for the children.” And they will be quite late indeed if Dream were to fulfill their daydreams now.

“Oh, right, yeah. Let's go.”

The air outside is refreshing, calming Dream’s heart into a more even rhythm and clearing his mind.

They pass by other children and adults wearing costumes, some carrying plastic jack-o'-lanterns with candy inside.

Dream listens to Hob talk about more of the city's Halloween traditions, wondering why he had not noticed Hob’s feelings for him before. Why he had not noticed his own.

Hob puts a protective arm out in front of Dream when a motorcycle speeds past, as if Dream could be harmed by such things. They continue on walking, with Hob talking about the unfortunate lack of sidewalks before moving on to more positive things like the free candy tonight at The New Inn for trick-or-treaters and regular customers alike.

Dream watches the light of the setting sun reflect in Hob’s eyes, remembering the first instance of Hob protecting him, all those centuries ago. He had not seen Hob's daydreams then, but he felt them at the corner of his mind. And before he could be tempted to confirm if they wanted the same thing at that moment, he cut their meeting short. He did not wish to risk Hob’s life—immortal he may be—just for the sake of his own fleeting urges.

Now there is no risk of hurt or capture for either of them. Perhaps, instead of wondering why he did not notice such feelings after his return many months ago, it is more important to wonder what he will do next. Now that he knows.

They reach the house of Hob’s friends, and pleasantries are exchanged with introductions. The kids, Noah and Oliver, know Hob as their parents’ friend from the times that they all went to The New Inn. The boys dressed as their favourite superheroes—Batman and Superman, as Hob helpfully whispers to him—and they immediately adore the pirate costumes that Hob and Dream are wearing.

After their parents remind them to get along with other kids and listen to their chaperones, the boys excitedly run ahead to wait for them on the street, bouncing on their heels as they wait for the grown-ups to finish their conversations.

Hob's friends mention an upcoming holiday trip, and Dream is struck by the realisation that the spouses look at each other in much the same way that Hob looks at him.

He tenses and waits for fear to set in. He has had lovers in the past, and their relationships ended in ruin. He will not—must not—allow the same thing to happen between him and Hob.

Dream is so lost in his thoughts that he barely registers when the farewells happen and they join the kids.

They walk down the streets and Noah teases his younger brother about being scared of the older kids’ costumes of ghosts and ghouls.

“I'm not scared!” Oliver says indignantly in his high voice.

Dream feels a small hand grasp his. He looks down and sees the boy’s green eyes looking at him in concern.

“You're quiet, Mister Dream. Are you scared?” Oliver is still holding his hand reassuringly.

Dream glances at Hob and sees that his friend is smiling fondly at him. Those warm brown eyes that welcomed him without question even after he had stormed out of their meeting and was absent in the next. The gaze that belongs to the man who never doubted that he would return and built a new place for him to return to.

“No,” Dream answers Oliver without looking away from Hob. “I am not scared.”

“Hurry, Oli!” Noah calls out from a few paces ahead. “Mum says we're not allowed to separate!”

Oliver lets go of Dream’s hand and runs to his brother.

“Oi!” Hob calls after him. “Your mum also said not to separate from us!”

The boys give no indication that they heard Hob, and instead approach the nearest house to ring the doorbell.

Hob chuckles and shakes his head as he turns to Dream. “You're really okay with doing this?”

“I am. These children tonight have loud daydreams of their favourite sweets and eating them while in their costumes. It is good to see them fulfill that happiness. I had… forgotten. How much every little daydream matters.” Dream looks around at the little superheroes and princesses and fairies walking around the street, and he feels himself smile.

When he turns back to his friend, Hob is watching him with a smile of his own.

“It's good to see you happy,” Hob says with such sincere softness that makes something like yearning twinge in Dream’s chest.

“Mister Hob! Mister Dream! Let's go!” Oliver is holding his brother's hand and is excitedly waving for them to continue walking.

They meet some of Hob's neighbours along the way and get compliments on their costumes, and Hob invites them to tomorrow’s Halloween party at The New Inn.

Plastic pumpkin baskets get filled, and eventually Noah and Oliver grow tired of walking and sit on a bench to peruse their hoard.

Hob goes to buy refreshments at a food stall nearby while Dream stays to guard the kids, standing a few steps away from the bench and looking around with interest at the jack-o'-lanterns that have now been lit all over the park.

“That's a lot of candy you got.” An unfamiliar kid’s voice catches Dream’s attention.

He turns to see that three teenage boys have approached Noah and Oliver, wearing shiny robot costumes that look particularly expensive.

“Yeah…” Oliver says timidly and protectively hugs his pumpkin basket close to his chest.

“Now, that's not nice,” says the tallest kid. “Didn't your mum teach you to share?” He reaches for Oliver's basket—

Noah stands up and squares his shoulders, looking up at the older kids. “Didn't your mums teach you not to steal?”

The tall kid sneers and steps forward, and in that moment Dream bends the shadows and appears directly behind the bench, facing them.

“The night is still young, children. And reward is only sweet when it is earned,” Dream says evenly, his eyes black pools with bright stars in the center.

The older kids stare at him in horror and stumble all over themselves in their haste to run away.

“They left,” Oliver says in awe, watching the kids turn and disappear around a corner.

“It must have been your brother's bravery that daunted them.” Dream blinks and his eyes are once more blue.

“Daunted…” Noah furrows his eyebrows in thought and turns to Dream. “That means scared, right?”

“Indeed,” Dream smiles. “It appears you are smart as well. You make for an excellent Batman.”

Noah beams. Then he gets a chocolate bar from the depths of his basket. “For you, Mister Dream!”

Dream looks down in surprise at the offering in the child’s open palm. “But you worked for it. It is yours.”

“Our mum did teach us how to share,” Noah grins. “With friends.” He holds his palm higher.

Dream is rendered speechless. He does not need air but for a few moments he feels short of breath. Then he smiles and takes the chocolate bar. “Thank you, Noah.”

Hob arrives carrying big cups of fruit shakes in a paper bag. “Everyone alright?” He begins to distribute the cups.

“Yes!” Oliver exclaims, showing his full basket. “Let’s get back home and share these with mum and dad!”

The fruit drinks seem to have replenished the children's energy, and they jog and bounce along the sidewalk on the way back to their house.

Their parents have returned and have already prepared dinner for them. Oliver regales them with the tale of how his brother defended them from bullies, and as a reward they are allowed to have some of their candy before dinner.

Farewells are exchanged, and Hob and Dream make their way back to The New Inn.

“I saw what you did, you know,” Hob says as they leisurely walk under the light of streetlamps. “I can't believe you scared those kids like that,” he chuckles.

“Hm?” Dream hums with feigned innocence. “Noah did not want to give them treats. So I gave them a trick instead. Is that not how this holiday works?”

Hob laughs, a bright sound that makes Dream continually grateful for this night. “Not exactly, no.”

“Then I suppose I should stay longer so that I might learn more.”

“Well, you know I'll never complain about that. We can stay at the pub or in my flat, wherever you like. Could make us some dinner too, if you want.”

“I was thinking about a longer duration than that.”

“We’ll go to the Dreaming afterwards? Yeah, of course.”

Dream stops walking and Hob follows suit, looking at him questioningly.

“Hob Gadling. Will you do me the honour of being my date to The New Inn’s Halloween party?”

Hob’s lips part and a tinge of scarlet colours his cheeks.

Dream smiles. “You arranged for the party to happen tomorrow, on the day you were expecting me to visit. Am I wrong to assume you wanted me there?”

“No,” Hob says quickly. “I did want you there. I do. It's just… Date? How'd you mean…?”

“I mean,” Dream takes a step forward, making the blush on Hob's face even more prominent. “That I have romantic intentions and wish to be the priority of your attentions tomorrow. If you would be amenable.”

“What— Yes!” Hob laughs again, relief and delight evident in his voice. “How… How long have you… felt that way?” His gaze is vulnerable, hopeful.

“I confess I do not know,” Dream glances down for a moment. “But I know how I feel now. And if you feel the same…” He takes another step forward and transports them both back to Hob’s flat. “I have some plans in mind.”

Hob gasps in surprise at the sudden teleportation and stumbles backwards into his shelf of memorabilia, rattling some of the objects.

A smile curves Dream's lips, a coil of hunger beginning to awaken within him.

“What… Plans?” Hob blinks, pupils dilating at what he saw in Dream's expression.

Dream reaches up and slowly undoes his scarf. Hob’s gaze drops to his neck and follows every movement of his fingers.

Dream tosses the scarf to the floor, revealing the low neckline of his shirt showing much of his pale chest and collarbones.

“God almighty,” Hob breathes, and his tongue runs across his bottom lip.

Hob's daydreams wash over Dream, loud and colourful and vivid that Dream feels nearly intoxicated with them.

Dream takes a breath and steps forward, placing one hand on the shelf beside Hob’s head to steady himself. His friend's eyes widen as Dream leans in close enough that their noses are almost touching.

“I can taste your daydreams, Hob,” Dream's voice almost wavers, his restraint hanging by the barest threads of his willpower. “I should like to taste the reality of them.”

Hob swallows, and a trembling exhale escapes him. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then thinks better of it and simply cups Dream's face in his hands and presses their lips together.

Hob's lips are impossibly soft, and his calloused hands a comforting warmth around Dream as one slides down the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Dream places his hands on Hob’s waist and licks at the seam of his mouth, eliciting a moan as Hob's tongue eagerly meets his. He deftly unbuckles Hob’s belt, dropping it to the ground along with the plastic weapons in its holsters.

Hob fumbles around Dream’s belt with trembling fingers, tossing it to the ground as well and kicking it out of the way as they stumble across the corridor to his bedroom, Hob’s coat falling off his shoulders in their journey.

“Please tell me this isn't a trick,” Hob pants against his lips as he opens the bedroom door and they pour through the doorway.

“Not at all,” Dream feels himself to be equally breathless and a fond playful smile curves his lips. “I should like to have you as a treat. If you will have me.”

Hob captures Dream's mouth again in response, dragging him over to the bed as he blindly pushes the door close.

Down at the busy pub, customers enjoy the free candy and new Halloween decorations, as well as the songs playing from the jukebox that drown out any sound that might be coming from the owner’s flat above.

---

Notes:

The whole idea of Dream thinking about his feelings for Hob while they're walking around outside is inspired by this fic written by @beatnikfreakiswriting <3 I had read it shortly before starting to write this fic. It's a lovely and adorable read!

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(All Hallows Sadman 2024 Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[ralkana]

Fluffbruary, Day 5

February 5: rescue | inertia | lullaby

Dream of the Endless / Hob Gadling

Rated M? Maybe T?

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Hob is desperate.

He is out of options. He is no longer a religious man, but he has prayed. His fate is inescapable.

Hob is trapped.

Dr. Atkins will not leave.

He's tried everything to get his new colleague out of his office. He's tried hints. He's tried exclaiming about how much work he has. He's tried ignoring the man and actually doing his work, but he could not focus, and his students deserve better than that. He's stood at the door expectantly, and Atkins stood just outside the door and kept talking. Hob has gone to the toilet, which was extremely awkward, as Atkins followed him in, kept talking, and then followed him back to his office.

Hob could simply leave, but it's his office! His lunch is here! He has 32 exams to mark and 3 lesson plans to finalize, and he is extremely thirsty but he does not want to make tea because he does not want Atkins to consider it an invitation to sit down again. Also, he's afraid that if he just leaves, Atkins will follow him out and all the way home, still talking.

Atkins is currently bemoaning his tragic love life and failed marriages, and Hob bites back a snarl as Atkins once again laments how all of his lovers have taken advantage of him because he is an empath. Clearly, the man is not, or he would already have been knocked flat by the hostility boiling under Hob's properly polite British demeanor. Get out get out GET OUT! he seethes.

Hob longs for assistance, longs for rescue, but the department is deserted, his colleagues' office doors closed, their window blinds down. He knows they're in there, the cowards, but it's obvious that all of them have already been exposed to their new resident bore, and no one warned Hob.

He yearns for a student to stop in, for a fire alarm, for a bloody earthquake, the building's boiler to explode. He glares at his phone, lying silent and dark on his desk. Why won't it ring?

"Music is my first love, though," Atkins says. For at least the fifth time. "And I want someone I can share that with. Concerts are not the same on one's own."

"Mm, yeah," Hob says listlessly.

There are footsteps in the hall. They stop before his door, and Hob's heart leaps like a startled hare.

"Hello, beloved, I am here for our lunch date. You were to call me after your class, were you not?"

God's wounds, thank you, love!

Hob lurches to pull open the half-open door, grabbing Dream's hand with both of his and clinging.

"Hello, darling, so sorry!" He presses a quick kiss to Dream's lips. "Time got away! Come in, come in!"

Pulling Dream into his office, he threads his arm in Dream's and keeps chattering at lightning speed. "Got so busy talking, you know how it is. Love, this is my new colleague, Dr. Atkins. Drew, this is my husband."

"Oh! Ah, pleasure to meet you," Atkins says, eyes wide as he stares at Dream. Every inch the dream king, Dream nods regally. Seeing Atkins take a breath to speak again, Hob jumps in once more.

"So sorry to rush you out, didn't realize what time it was, we've only got time for a short break, you understand. It was lovely chatting with you!"

If he lets Atkins get a word in, the man will never stop, and then Dream will say something unspeakably rude, and the only reason Hob hasn't already been unspeakably rude is that he still has to work with the man.

"Oh sure, no worries, " Atkins says as Hob herds him inelegantly out the door. "Chat later?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Absolutely," Hob says with a cheery grin as he shuts the door in Atkins' face and then locks it.

He slumps against it momentarily and then springs up to tug Dream into a searing kiss.

Dream rumbles in pleasure like a big cat, hands curving around Hob's waist to pull him close.

They only break apart when Hob gasps for breath. "Hello, love," he pants, tucking his face into Dream's neck. "You're my hero, did you know that?"

"Your daydreams of rescue were very loud, but they did not seem to call for a combative response. Is all well, beloved?" He glares at the closed door. "Is Andrew Atkins a threat?"

Hob snorts and reluctantly steps away to walk toward his desk. He has so much to do. "God, no. Only to my peace of mind and my schedule for the day, duck. New colleague, frightful bore, couldn't get rid of him. I tried everything. Nice bloke, but he would not stop talking. If I had to hear one more time about how he saw Queen at Wembley in '85, I would not have been responsible for my actions."

He daydreams a little vignette of sliding his sword out of a desk drawer far too small for it, grinning at Dream's small huff of laughter.

"I am glad to have come, if it averted unnecessary bloodshed," Dream says as he crosses the office. He leans against the corner of Hob's desk, ankles crossed, and smiles down at him. Hob swivels so that his knee knocks Dream's, and smiles back.

There is a brief moment of blessed silence, and Hob savors it.

"As your rescuer, I believe I deserve a reward, do I not?" Dream's voice is a purr, low and sultry, and it sends a shiver down Hob's spine.

"Oh, I will happily reward you tonight, love. Repeatedly, if you like."

"I am here now. For our lunch date. And I find myself ravenous."

"Dream, we're in my office!"

Dream says nothing, simply staring down at him hungrily, and Hob swallows.

"I am so behind, dove. Atkins was here forever, and I have - " It ends on a gasp as Dream straddles him. Hob's desk chair creaks alarmingly.

"So fickle in your gratitude, beloved," Dream murmurs in his ear, his hands in Hob's hair.

Hob glances at his pile of marking. He glances at the blinds, closed, and the door, locked. Ten minutes. He can take ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

END

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Thanks to @fluffbruary for the prompt and @ladytian for the cheerleading!