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unpredictable-probabilities · 1 year ago

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Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 1: An Endless Visit

Summary:

Hob gets into a rather painful predicament after a long day of grading papers at The New Inn. But after a visit from his oldest friend, he finds that he doesn't mind so much.

Dream visits Hob Gadling for their long-overdue appointment, and learns that he is more comfortable now in acknowledging and expressing their friendship. However, he learns other things from Hob that catch him off-guard...

Word Count: 4,568

——

The late afternoon air was crisp and cool as Hob stepped out of The New Inn. He walked down the street and stretched his neck from side to side; grading so many papers at once did not do his muscles any favors.

He turned down a side street for a shorter route, already thinking about the cup of tea he would make and the 12-hour nap he wanted to take.

“In a hurry, mate?” asked a slurred voice as a figure walked out from behind the dumpster. “How's about you leave that bag of yours, eh?”

Hob slowed down to a stop at the glint of a switchblade from the man's hand. So far he hadn't been stabbed in this century, and he wasn't keen on breaking that streak.

“And your phone and wallet,” a gruffer voice said from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see two men with bloodshot eyes, both wielding a similar blade as the one in front of him. All three smelled of alcohol, but unfortunately they still seemed sober enough to cause trouble. And possibly some light stabbing.

“Now, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement,” Hob said evenly as he slowly backed sideways to the wall, keeping all three of them in his line of sight.

“Drop the bag now,” said the slurred voice as all three of them walked closer.

Hob began to unsling the messenger bag from his shoulder. Logically, he knew that the smart choice would be to hand over his things and leave unharmed.

But he also knew that he had just spent hours grading those papers, and he knew that he had a sketchpad in his bag that he very much didn't want to part with.

He wrapped the strap of the bag around his arm and swung hard at the man closest to him, hitting him in the jaw and sending him sprawling onto his behind.

The other two rushed forward, one of them grabbing the bag. Hob placed a well-aimed punch on that man’s eye, then side-stepped and turned to kick the third one.

With his bag yanked free, he turned and prepared to run—

A cold steel blade sank under his ribs. The first thug had gotten up faster than he had expected.

Dammit, Hob instinctively clutched his abdomen as he stumbled back into a crouch. Getting stabbed never got easier, no matter how many times he experienced it.

The thug grabbed his bag, but Hob held firm on the strap.

“Trust me, mate, it’s all boring stuff in there,” Hob managed through his shallow breathing, trying to remain upright on one knee.

He was unceremoniously pushed against the wall, and the thug pulled hard on the bag, ripping the zipper open.

“Eh? It’s just papers.” The man squinted as he rifled through and started taking out the essays that Hob so carefully read and graded, scattering them all over the alley.

“I told you,” Hob said as he tried to stand up, one hand pressed to his wound and the other still grasping the strap of the bag.

The second thug kicked him back against the wall and he fell with a grunt, pain shooting up his torso.

“Must be hidin’ somethin’ expensive in there,” said the gruff voice. “Or he wouldn’t get himself killed for it.”

Hob would have rolled his eyes if pain wasn’t spiking behind them. He’d gotten himself killed for things much less valuable than the contents of his bag.

“Don’t make me cut off yer wrist,” the third thug stepped forward and held his blade threateningly to Hob’s arm.

Hob wanted to point out that cutting off the strap of the bag would be much more efficient, but the blood loss was making him lightheaded, and he was focusing all his energy on staying conscious. It didn’t look like he’d be healing fast enough to get his bag back, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

They got his sketchpad and began rifling through it, grumbling about money hiding between the pages.

“No,” Hob reached for it and was promptly punched in the face for his efforts.

“A’right, what’s really in here?” the first thug put the tip of his knife to Hob’s neck, the sketchpad lying discarded on the asphalt. “Ya wouldn’t fight so much if–”

The thug’s eyes rolled back in his head, the knife fell out of his grip, and all three thugs dropped limply to the ground like puppets with their strings cut off.

Hob blinked repeatedly, wondering if he was hallucinating somehow.

Then another figure began to walk towards him, pale skin and black coat and raven hair.

Hob’s heart skipped a beat before his mind could even fully process who he was seeing. Now he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

“You’re late,” he said to his stranger, a smile forming on his face despite his abdomen still steadily losing blood.

His stranger crouched beside him, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his wound and the bruise that was starting to form on his cheekbone. “I shall bring you to a hospital.”

Hob shook his head. “No, I heal too quickly and they ask too many questions. S’okay, I’ll be right as rain in an hour or two.” He didn’t dare take his eyes off his stranger, taking in the worried crease on the otherwise smooth forehead, the blue eyes that Hob had learned to read over the course of the centuries, the hard line of his pursed lips.

He’d say that that face makes for a grand last thing to see before his death, except he couldn’t die, and he certainly had plans to keep seeing that face plenty more times.

“Very well. Where do you live?”

“Not far, just on the next block over,” Hob said as he felt the wound start to close up enough to stop the blood flowing out. “Let me see if I can walk—”

Sand swirled around them in a tornado, and Hob instinctively closed his eyes.

——

Dream placed Hob gently to lie on the couch in his living room. With the image of the flat plucked directly from Hob’s mind, it was a simple matter of getting them both here, including all of Hob’s possessions that were scattered in the street.

“Stay still,” Dream said as Hob blinked and looked around in surprise.

Dream sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch and reached into the dream of a doctor sleeping two flats over. He pulled out a bottle of water and a soft washcloth, as well as the knowledge of how to use them in this situation.

“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Hob said as Dream began to clean the blood off around the injury.

“You cannot die, but an infection would still hurt.” Dream trickled water into the wound and made sure there was no dirt or debris lodged in there. Fortunately, the assailant’s knife hadn’t been rusty.

“Yeah, but you know, I can do that myself.” Hob tried to sit up, but Dream put a firm hand on his chest, keeping him lying down.

“I am aware that you are capable, but friends help each other, do they not?” Dream looked right into Hob’s eyes, all the better to communicate his sincerity.

He noticed the bob in Hob’s throat as he swallowed, then a smile appeared on his friend’s face. An unexpected warmth spread within Dream at the sight, and he found himself returning the smile.

“Oh, we’re friends now, then?” Hob’s eyes twinkled playfully.

“Yes.” Dream went back to his task, washing and drying off Hob’s skin before placing a clean bandage on it. Afterwards, he disposed of all the items in the Dreaming.

Hob raised his eyebrows curiously at the way they vanished into thin air with a wave of Dream’s hand. “So… you can just do that? Summon whatever objects you want and then make them disappear again?”

“I have to find them first before I am able to summon them.” Dream stood up and picked up Hob’s bag from the floor to place it on the coffee table. “What could possibly have been in here that was worth getting stabbed for?” He crouched to take the scattered papers on the floor, and Hob hurriedly got up with a grunt to help him.

“I’d been grading my students’ papers, I can’t exactly replace them if they get stolen.” Hob’s gaze was quickly darting around on the pile.

“Are you searching for something in particular? If you can imagine its appearance vividly enough, I can look for…” Dream’s voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the open sketchpad.

He reached for it, the images pulling him close. Daydreams suffused the papers; Dream could sense them almost like a tangible presence. Each pencil stroke called to him, and he felt certain that every line was created with him in mind. A distant familiarity tugged at his memory, from a time long past when people would pray to him and create shrines to his name.

He barely heard Hob’s voice as it dawned on him just what the images were.

“Um, that’s, I…”

Dream gradually stood up, sketchpad in hand. On the paper before him was a pencil drawing of a man walking away in the rain, his back turned and his black coat billowing behind him. On the page beside that was a man dressed in the fine clothes of the 18th century with his dark hair in a ponytail, seated on a table with a teacup in front of him.

His fingers moved on their own as he turned the pages. There he was, standing by Hob’s table in 1389 with his black robe and the ruby pendant around his neck. Then a side profile of him as he spoke with Will Shaxberd, whose features were drawn in an exaggerated and almost comedic manner somehow. Another drawing was of him with his hair cut short for the 19th century, seated at a table once more with a wine glass in front of him. His eyes, they looked… kind. Did Hob always see him that way? It twisted something in his stomach when he remembered what had happened moments after that, how his eyes had surely blazed with self-righteous anger before he abandoned his friend.

He slowly looked up at Hob, who had been standing quietly beside him.

“You were gone, and…” For reasons Dream couldn’t understand, Hob looked nervous, but his voice remained steady as he spoke. “It helped. Drawing you. I knew I could never forget your face, or any of our meetings, but… it helped.”

Dream closed the sketchpad, grasping for the right words that he could say. Imprisoned in that dark basement, he had not been able to ignore the conflict within him on that day in 1989. It would have been selfish to hope that Hob was waiting for him in the pub, knowing that he would never make it to their meeting. He had known that it would be better if Hob had been angry with him about how they parted last time; he wouldn’t be waiting around for someone who would never arrive. And yet all this time, Hob had been thinking of him. Enough to recreate his image many times over.

What words would be sufficient to encompass all of that?

“I… apologize.” He met Hob’s surprised gaze and held out the sketchpad to him. “I was unkind at our last meeting when you merely spoke the truth. I have treated you poorly, and you did not deserve it.”

Hob gave a small smile, as sincere as every other smile he had ever given Dream. “Well you’re here now. A bit late, but we’ve both got a lot of time, yeah?” He stepped closer and gently took the sketchpad, looking down at it. “And I’m sorry for what I said, back then. I just meant… I understood that you were lonely because I was, too. Sometimes I still am. You’re the only one who really knows me, and I’ve realized that a century has far too many days to wait to see you again…” Hob’s eyes snapped up to Dream, as if he didn’t intend to say that last part aloud. He cleared his throat and smiled, taking a step back. “Anyway, I’ll make us some tea. Let’s take this apology to the table.”

Hob returned the sketchpad carefully into his bag and led the way to the kitchen. Dream followed in silent footsteps, standing behind Hob as he prepared a kettle.

“I would have come to you in 1989, had I been able to.” Dream wanted Hob to know that, if nothing else.

Hob froze for a moment as he brought out two cups. “Oh. Busy day at work, then? With whatever it is you do?”

Dream could feel the curiosity in Hob’s gaze and his questions, but Hob seemed to be holding back from asking him directly.

“No, I was…”

Whenever he was in the Waking, Dream was bound to the reactions of his human form, and as it were, he felt his throat closing up, and his heart raced as flashes of the glass orb flitted across his mind. The birds flying outside the window of Hob’s kitchen made too much noise, causing a memory to surface from a dark place in his mind that he kept hidden, a small raven pecking at his prison, exploding in blood and feathers following a gunshot—

He gritted his teeth and willed the images away as tears threatened to fill his eyes. He was better than this. The King of Dreams should have control over his own mind.

“Hey, hey,” Hob was standing in front of him, a worried expression on his face. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He gently pulled Dream’s arm to guide him to a chair at the small round table, where two tea cups were waiting for them. “You don’t have to talk about it, alright?”

Dream’s breathing was becoming shallow, and he clenched his fists on the table to force his hands to stop shaking.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here,” Hob reached over and put his hands on one of Dream’s, stroking gentle circles with his thumb.

Dream released a shaky breath and opened his hands, wanting to withdraw them from the table to hide such a display of weakness, but Hob kept holding his right hand in both of his, meeting Dream’s questioning gaze with a soft smile.

“I was imprisoned,” Dream said before he could lose his voice again, the warm feeling of Hob’s hands emboldening him. “By a sorcerer who used my powers to gain wealth and youth.”

Hob’s eyes flashed with horror, anger, worry, and other emotions that went too quick for even Dream to catch. It was anger that stayed on his features as he gripped Dream’s hand more securely. “What did they do to you?” His gaze flitted over Dream as if looking for injuries. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but—”

“They didn’t hurt me,” Dream reassured his friend. He didn’t wish to cause him any more distress. “They took my tools of office and my raven companion…” Dream had to stop speaking again, forcing the images away from his mind’s eye. He took a calming breath. “But no, they did not injure me.”

“If I had known…” Hob shook his head in exasperation. “God, if I had known, I would have gotten you out of there myself. You know I would have.” The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt in Dream’s mind. And the image of spending all that time with Hob instead of in the glass orb was so strong that Dream found himself returning Hob’s firm grip.

“Well, you’re here now. And we both have a lot of time.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he playfully repeated Hob’s words to him.

Hob seemed caught off-guard and he chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, we do. And nobody’s gonna take you while you’re in my house, alright? I can promise you that.”

Dream stared at Hob, searching his friend’s eyes for any false facades and found none. When was the last time someone had promised him sanctuary? Even in his own realm, he had his subjects to watch over. Safety was expected from him, never promised.

However, here at Hob's home, he did not have to be an infallible lord. Nobody expected him to know all the answers, and no judging eyes pried into him searching for the smallest flaws.

And was that not how it always felt with Hob? Even during the times he would not admit to their friendship, Hob’s presence was never something Dream felt guarded about. With Hob, he could simply… be.

“Morpheus.”

“What?” Hob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That is my name. Among many.”

Hob’s mouth dropped open, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Right. Right, then. If I’d known that I had to get stabbed to get your name, I would've let Lady Johanna’s thugs do it.”

“I would not have let that happen.” Dream felt himself smiling as well.

Hob furrowed his eyebrows as he seemed to realize something. “Wait, ‘Morpheus’, like the god of dreams?”

“I am no god. That is simply what the Ancient Greeks preferred to believe.”

“Okay,” Hob nodded slowly. “But you do have powers over dreams?”

“That is my function. My realm provides a safe place for humans to face their fears and wants.”

“And… does that mean you know what all humans dream about?” Hob’s voice was even, but his nervousness had returned.

“If I wanted, I could choose a dream to see into and take anything from it. That is how I summoned the supplies to treat your wound earlier. However, for the most part it is all in the back of my mind. Though some dreams are louder than others and catch my attention.”

Hob’s fingers suddenly felt cold against Dream’s hand. “Have you seen any of my dreams, then?”

Dream shook his head. “I prefer that you tell me yourself about your hopes and dreams, as you have done so in our past meetings. You are quite the engaging storyteller.” The anxious energy began to ebb away from Hob at that, but Dream still didn’t understand why it was there in the first place. “Is something wrong? Are there any nightmares you would like to get rid of? I could see into your dreams the next time you sleep and—”

“No,” Hob quickly cut him off. “No, it’s fine, really. I was just curious, that’s all.”

Hob got up and took the teapot from the counter, and Dream’s hand felt colder with the absence of Hob’s hold on him. He held his own teacup with both hands instead, taking in its warmth.

“I am curious as well, about how you have been faring over the past century.” Dream asked when Hob sat back down after refilling his cup. “You’re a teacher now? No longer interested in soldiering or banditry?”

Hob smiled at his teasing tone. “You know I haven’t been interested in those things in a long time. I figured, since the world’s only getting bigger, I’d like to know more about it as much as I can, and it wouldn’t hurt to try to teach the younger ones a thing or two about what I do already know.”

“Do you teach drawing as well?” Dream asked in genuine curiosity.

Hob’s cheeks turned a shade of red as he laughed. “No. The stuff in my sketchpad, that’s just for me. I don’t really show people anything I draw. Not very good at it, anyway,” he shrugged.

“I disagree. Since the Ancient Greeks, there have not been many temples nor shrines dedicated to me, but in your drawings I felt a similar sense of…” Reverence, he wanted to say, but he had recently learned that he could sound quite arrogant, and he did not want Hob to think of him as such. “Respect. And care. Your artworks are not without heart.”

Hob grinned. “Maybe I can draw your portrait then, while you sit right there.”

Dream tilted his head slightly, considering. “I would not mind.”

Hob’s grin melted off in surprise. “No, come on, I was just joking,” he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Anyway, yeah, I didn’t expect myself to be in the academic world either but here I am. Going for brains instead of brawn this century.”

They slipped into the comforting familiarity of Hob telling Dream about what he had been up to in the past decades. At some point, Hob made some ham and cheese sandwiches to go with their tea. Dream did not need food, but he finished his sandwich all the same. It was good, and it only made Hob smile brighter when he told him so. Which made Dream understand a little better why friends have meetings over food.

The sun had set some time ago when Hob’s phone made a noise. He paused in the middle of talking about an upcoming book fair to take it from his pocket.

“Oh, that’s right,” he looked at the screen after silencing the alarm. “Speaking of the book fair, I need to send some emails to confirm which of my colleagues and students would be attending. I gotta prepare what I’d be wearing, too,” his eyebrows furrowed. “The dean insisted on ‘smart casual’ and he takes these events seriously.”

Dream nodded and stood up, Hob followed suit.

A hundred years, then? Dream almost said, instinctively. But it didn’t feel right, not this time. Besides, Hob did say that there were far too many days in a century. And he could certainly agree.

“If you would be interested…” Dream began, gauging Hob’s reaction. “Perhaps I can pay you a visit once more, without waiting a hundred years. If your schedule would permit—”

“Yes,” Hob’s voice was tinged with surprise and gladness. He huffed out a relieved laugh. “Yes, of course, you beautiful bastard!” He took a step forward and seemed to stop himself, averting his eyes for a moment before looking at Dream again with a calmer expression. “It was nice seeing you again. Morpheus.”

Dream felt something warm in his chest from how Hob’s voice curled around his name, as if each syllable were something precious.

“Thanks for the help earlier at the alley,” Hob nodded vaguely in the direction of the outdoors.

“I hope to see you in a much better condition when I next visit,” Dream said sincerely.

Hob chuckled, and he took a few moments before he spoke again. “I’ll be at The New Inn tomorrow morning, since I don’t have any classes until the afternoon. I’ll be there until after lunch time, maybe. So if you wanna swing by…”

Dream had not expected to be invited again so soon, but he had no complaints. He nodded. “Tomorrow morning it is.”

Hob looked like he still wanted to say something, with the way his eyes darted around and how he kept shifting his weight on his feet. There it was again, the nervous energy that Dream couldn’t fathom. Hob had never seemed uncomfortable in his presence since that brief moment in 1489 when Hob had asked if he were the devil. What changed?

With his curiosity growing, Dream hadn’t noticed that the walls he put up to separate himself from Hob’s daydreams had begun to crumble, until a vivid image entered his mind.

“Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong,” Dream had told Hob then, on that night at The White Horse.

Hob had stepped closer to him, and before he could turn away and walk out the door, Hob’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him close in a silent embrace that said so much more than what words could.

Dream blinked and put the walls back up. He did not wish to intrude upon Hob’s privacy, but he could still feel Hob’s regret in that modified memory. There was a part of Hob that blamed himself for not moving fast enough, for letting Dream go when he needed company the most. Nevermind that it would have been scandalous for two men to embrace in such a way in the 19th century.

“Hob,” Dream began, wanting to tell him that he had no fault at all in what happened back then.

“Yeah?” Hob asked, the nervous expression on his face giving way to curiosity.

Dream didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the knowledge that that particular daydream of his had been revealed, and he selfishly did not want Hob to stop meeting him anymore for fear of his mind being read.

So instead Dream stepped forward wordlessly, crossing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Hob’s waist as he leaned into him.

Hob stiffened in surprise, but then he let out a breath and relaxed in the embrace, putting his arms around Dream’s neck and resting his chin on Dream’s shoulder.

“It took me more than six centuries to admit that we are friends,” Dream said softly. “I thank you for your patience with me, Hob Gadling. I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”

Hob buried his face in Dream’s neck and sighed, causing warmth to prickle on Dream’s skin and pool in his belly. “You deserve so much more, dove,” Hob muttered. “I’m just glad to give what I can.”

Before Dream knew what was happening, another image filled his mind, as bright as a sun’s glare, impossible to ignore even if one shut their eyelids against it.

Hob pulled back from their embrace and reached up to caress Dream’s face, then he leaned closer to press their foreheads together.

“I missed you so much,” Hob sighed, his breath brushing Dream’s mouth. “You can stay longer, yeah?”

The images flashed by quickly. Hob cooking breakfast, the both of them walking around a park, Dream bringing Hob to his flat late in the evening, Hob wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck and reaching up to press their lips together, Dream pulling Hob closer to him as they learned the shape of each other’s mouths—

Dream forced himself out of Hob’s daydreams, willing the walls back up. His face felt suddenly and uncharacteristically warm.

Hob tightened his embrace, and Dream found himself returning the gesture. The realization was surging up within him that not only did he not feel opposed to Hob’s daydreams, but that they were also something he wanted. Dangerously so.

Dream gently pulled away from Hob, fearing that his friend would be able to feel how fast his heart was racing.

He didn’t want to leave so soon when they had not seen each other in more than a hundred years, but what he did want with Hob now was far too important to act recklessly upon, and he was afraid he’d do reckless things indeed if he stayed longer.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling,” he said evenly as he took a step back.

“You better.”

Dream summoned his sand and watched Hob’s smiling face until he was transported to his realm.

He promptly made his way to the library. His knowledge was lacking when it came to courtship among humans; he had a lot of reading to do.

——

Chapter 2 ->

(Masterlist)

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unpredictable-probabilities · 1 year ago

Text

Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 2: Stars Present

Summary:

Hob takes Morpheus on a little food trip after their meeting at The New Inn. Along the way, he learns more about what his friend likes, and discovers what he definitely likes about his friend.

He can't help but daydream especially when standing so close to Morpheus, but everything should be fine as long as he kept such thoughts to himself. It's not like Morpheus can read his mind.

Word Count: 6,078

— —

“Waiting for someone, sir?” Luke smiled as he set down a glass of orange juice on the table.

Hob looked up at him distractedly. Luke was one of the newer staff at The New Inn, and he had no idea just how many times Hob had sat at that table to keep his eye on the front door. Hob never intended to be obvious about it, but the older staff members had definitely noticed and had been known to give him vague words of encouragement on occasion.

“Yeah, just a friend,” Hob smiled. He could call him that now, and he was sure that said friend would actually show up today.

“Can I get you anything else, then? Something for your friend?” Luke asked politely.

Hob thought about it. In all the time he’d known Morpheus, they’ve always had alcohol or tea. He wanted to find out what else his friend would like. Besides, they could always order something else if Morpheus didn’t like whatever he picked.

“A cup of hot chocolate, please,” Hob answered. “But bring it over once he’s already here. Not sure what time he’d arrive, and we don’t want it getting cold.”

“Noted, sir,” Luke nodded and walked away.

When Hob looked at the door again, Morpheus was already walking towards him.

“Morpheus.” Hob grinned as his friend sat down across from him. “Glad you could come.”

“I said I would,” Morpheus smiled.

And how wonderful was that? Now they could spontaneously say they want to hang out the next day and it would happen. It was something that Hob never even dared to hope for back then.

Luke came back and brought a saucer and cup of hot chocolate in front of Morpheus. “Good morning, sir.”

Hob nodded a thanks before Luke walked away.

“New item,” Hob explained as Morpheus eyed the drink. “I thought to add some when this place was first built.”

Morpheus looked at him curiously. “You own this establishment?”

Hob grinned. “Yeah. I found out that they were closing down ‘The White Horse’, so I decided to buy the deed to it and rebuild it here, with a new name and menu.”

“Why go through such trouble?” Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows.

“Had to find a way to still keep seeing you, didn’t I?” Sometimes Hob forgot that Morpheus really didn’t know how much their meetings meant to him.

A smile pulled at the corners of Morpheus’ lips. “And I am grateful that you did.”

Hob relished in the warmth that that smile gave him. “Why were you at The White Horse back in 1389? What business would a dream deity have in a pub in the middle of nowhere?”

“None. But my sister had always been insistent that I mingle with humans. On that day, she all but dragged me into that tavern, and we overheard you talking to your friends about immortality. She was the one who gave you that gift.”

Hob furrowed his eyebrows. Now that was entirely new information; he had always assumed that it was Morpheus who gave it to him. Not that it changed anything, really. It had never mattered much to him why he had been granted immortality. He cared more for the fact that it allowed him to meet with this enigma of a being every hundred years.

“Your sister? Why does she have that kind of power? What’s she a deity of?” Hob tried to recall his vague knowledge of different pantheons.

Morpheus took a moment before answering. “I have told you that I have many names. One of them is ‘Dream’, as I am responsible for ensuring that humans dream safely. My sister’s name is Death; she is the one who granted you immortality.”

Hob’s eyebrows lifted as his mind reeled with so many questions, but he did his best to stay on track with their conversation. “Okay, okay, the actual deity of death gave me immortality. Alright. Uh, why choose me, out of everyone in that pub? And why was it you who told me about the gift and not her?”

“Would you have preferred it if it had been her instead?”

It sounded like a serious question, but Hob knew Morpheus well enough to catch the glimpse of mischief in his eye. “Shut up, you know I don’t.”

Morpheus smiled at that. “I had told her that I didn’t understand why any human would crave an eternity of this life, and her solution was to grant your wish of immortality so I could find out the answer for myself. I volunteered to be the one to speak with you about it.”

Hob took a moment to process all of that. He supposed that that was simply how powerful immortal siblings helped each other understand things, through displays of power that fundamentally changed certain elements of the world.

“Do you? Understand now, I mean, why a human would choose immortality.” Hob had always been curious about the answer.

Morpheus slightly tilted his head in thought. “Not entirely. From what I’ve seen, you wanted to keep living because of you, and how you experience the world. If it were any other human, I do not know if they would have kept choosing to live after each century. Therefore, I am just as interested in you now as in your experiences. Perhaps even more so.”

Hob wasn’t sure if he just imagined the softness at that last remark, but he momentarily dropped his gaze to his drink and took a second to compose himself. Morpheus looking at him with those piercing blue eyes while saying those words did things to him, and if Hob wasn’t careful he might end up doing things to Morpheus himself.

“Have you actually been mingling with other humans, then, like what your sister said?” He asked curiously. “Or do you just go outside your realm every hundred years whenever we have to meet?”

“I do visit the Waking world more frequently now than seven centuries ago, though perhaps not quite as much as my sister would want me to.” Morpheus picked up his cup and took a sip of the hot chocolate. “It’s sweeter than I had expected. I like it,” he clarified to answer Hob’s questioning look.

Hob grinned. “I’m glad you do. And I know you don’t need to, but do you ever eat or drink anything just because you want to?”

“I do so during our meetings.”

“Yeah, barely,” Hob said, remembering how Morpheus often refused food and never finished his drinks even halfway. “What do you say to walking around and trying different foods, then? It’s part of the human experience that you’ve been so curious about.”

Morpheus blinked, considering it. Before yesterday, they had never met outside of the pub, and a part of Hob was wondering if Morpheus would like to keep it that way. But then again, they had never so much as shook hands before, and Morpheus initiated a hug last night. Something that Hob knew he’d never be able to forget.

“Alright,” Morpheus replied. “As long as you are not late for your work.”

Hob’s eyebrows raised in surprise. That’s what he had been considering?

Hob smiled. “Nah, don’t worry, there’s plenty of time. And the university’s not far, anyway. Let me just finish my drink and we can go.”

He drank the rest of his orange juice, and was glad to see that Morpheus was finishing his drink, too. His eyes lingered on the bobbing of Morpheus’ throat as he drank, and the pink tongue that darted out when he licked the remaining chocolate on his lips. For a second, Hob questioned the sanity of his plan to take his friend on a food trip.

“Shall we?”

“Hm?” Hob blinked distractedly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They first went to a pizza store that Hob sometimes bought lunch from. Because of their plan to keep moving, they opted for the seats outside. Hob got them each a slice with both meat and vegetable toppings, and two glasses of lemon iced tea because the weather was a bit warm.

“Is this cheese in the crust?” Morpheus had turned his pizza around to inspect the end of it.

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes people don’t like to eat the crust, so some pizzas are stuffed with cheese or meat to encourage people to eat the whole thing,” Hob explained.

“Hm. Curious that humans would need extra encouragement in order to not waste a bit of food.” Morpheus took a bite of his pizza.

Hob chuckled. “That’s not the most ��curious’ thing about humans by far. Oh! How do you feel about spicy food? There’s some hot sauce here if you like. It looks like a new brand that I haven’t tried before, though, so I can’t say how spicy it would be,” he gestured to the small bottle on the table.

Morpheus picked it up and drizzled hot sauce on his pizza, far more than what Hob would have put on his own.

“Careful, those things can be really hot,” he warned.

“It will not harm me,” Morpheus said as he put the bottle back down. “Besides, this trip is about maximizing the experience, yes?” He smiled and took a bite, chewing slowly with a thoughtful look on his face. “I see the appeal. Though I enjoy the added flavor more than the spice. Perhaps next time I would not put so much.”

Hob felt a fluttering in his stomach at the “next time”. He smiled and put some hot sauce on his own pizza and took another bite–

Then he dissolved into a coughing fit as heat spread through his mouth and throat.

“Are you alright?” Morpheus asked in concern, his eyes slightly wider.

Hob nodded as he reached for his drink and downed it all in three gulps.

He glared at Morpheus, though there wasn’t any malice to it. “That barely affected you!” he accused. “And you put much more on your pizza than I did!”

Morpheus looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “It would appear that we have different tolerance levels for such things.” He slid his glass of iced tea over to Hob with an amused smile.

Hob scowled at him and pushed the glass back. “No, that’s yours. You haven’t even tried it yet.” He reached instead for the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass, grateful that the water was cold as he drank it.

They finished their pizza and drinks, and Hob had the idea to go to a yogurt shop next. Partly because Morpheus said he liked sweet things, and partly because his mouth was still burning from the hot sauce.

“I thought I would prefer hot tea, but I admit that iced tea has its charms especially on a warm day,” Morpheus mused as they walked down the pavement.

“If the weather gets too warm, you can take off your coat,” Hob reminded him. “Stash it somewhere in the Dreaming so you won’t have to carry it around.”

Morpheus looked down at his black coat as if only just realizing that he was wearing it. “Quite right. Though I would not mind carrying it around.”

They reached the yogurt shop and took their seats at the barstools lined up along the white countertop.

“Have you ever had yogurt before?” Hob asked curiously. “Or ice cream? Gelato?”

Morpheus shook his head. “I have never seen the need to try them. Though I have an idea of what they are like from several dreams I have seen.”

Hob ordered strawberry yogurt for himself and blueberry for Morpheus, in case his friend didn’t like blueberry and wanted to switch.

Morpheus took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair just as their orders arrived, and Hob was momentarily distracted by the pale skin of his friend’s arms, especially since he’d never seen Morpheus in short sleeves before.

He decided to focus on the task at hand and turned to Morpheus. “Try it, and if it’s not to your taste we can switch. Though I don’t know if you’d like strawberry either.”

Morpheus took the small spoon and scooped some yogurt in it, eyeing the gradient of white and blue curiously. He raised it to his lips and took a tentative taste, eating just half of it and staining his lips with the yogurt. Then he ate the rest of it on the spoon, pulling the plastic utensil out of his mouth with a little sucking sound that was barely audible but made goosebumps prickle on Hob’s skin. He licked the remaining yogurt on his lips, and for a moment Hob was gripped with the imagery of himself licking Morpheus’ lips clean instead.

“Your food is melting.”

Hob blinked and realized that Morpheus was looking at him. He glanced down at the spoon in his hand, stopped halfway between the cup and his mouth, dripping yogurt.

He hastily put the spoon back in his cup. “It does that. Yogurt melts pretty fast in this weather.”

For the rest of their time there, Hob purposely avoided looking at Morpheus or the way he ate. He was happy to treat his friend to these different foods but Christ. Maybe it was a good thing that Morpheus didn’t eat much during their previous meetings.

Hob didn’t have any other destination in mind, so they decided to just walk the rest of the way to the university while they talked about their work; Hob told Morpheus how his students enjoyed learning about ancient artifacts and language systems, and Morpheus talked about the meticulous process of creating nightmares to ensure that the dreamers would remain safe even as they faced them.

The weather gradually became more cloudy and Morpheus put his coat back on as they reached the more commercialized part of the city. Some beeping noises caught Hob’s attention, and he saw that ahead of them there was an arcade with one of those crane games outside. A group of little kids had just finished playing with it.

Hob smiled as an idea came to him. “Hey, have you ever played with a claw machine?”

Morpheus tilted his head curiously. “What?”

“Come on,” Hob grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the arcade.

The machine had stuffed toys inside as prizes: blue crescent moons, yellow stars with smiley faces, and black and white kittens barely bigger than Hob’s hand.

“You pick what toy you want, and you use this joystick to maneuver the claw around, then you press this button so it can pick up that toy. Or attempt to, anyway,” Hob explained.

He got some loose change from his pocket and put a coin in the slot to start the game. He aimed for one of the moons since it was angled favorably and he hoped that the crescent shape would make it easier for the claw to pick up. Unsurprisingly, the toy was just nudged aside and fell to its side.

“Harder than it looks,” Hob shrugged. “And I’d never been a kid in this century so I have no idea how to win this thing either. Wanna try?”

Morpheus frowned. “I do not understand. Would it not be more efficient to simply buy a toy than to spend an indefinite amount of money on this machine that might not even give you the prize?”

Hob smiled in good-natured amusement. “It’s not really about the prize, it’s more about the winning. Buying a toy wouldn’t feel the same as winning it, no matter what it is.” He held up a coin to Morpheus. “Your turn.”

Morpheus took it and dropped it in the slot.

People usually played these things while slouched and squinting at the prizes inside–that’s certainly what Hob just did–but Morpheus remained in perfect posture. There was the slightest frown on his forehead as he concentrated on the claw, his gaze quiet in its intensity and his chin ever so slightly lifted. Hob imagined that must be how he looked during diplomatic negotiations with other realms.

The claw grabbed one of the stars, and Morpheus’ eyes narrowed, as if daring the star to fall down.

And it did.

It slipped free as the claw was lifting it up, and the machine made the noise to indicate that the game was done, the words INSERT COIN and TRY AGAIN running across the screen on top.

Morpheus huffed indignantly. “The game is not fair. The claw had clearly picked up that yellow star.”

“That's how it usually is, from what I've seen.”

Hob was about to suggest that they continue walking, but Morpheus was still glaring at the machine like it personally offended him.

Hob fought back a smile and held up another coin. “Wanna go again?”

Morpheus wordlessly took the coin without taking his eyes off the machine. He aimed for a crescent moon this time, and the claw didn't even lift it at all.

Hob reached for a coin again but Morpheus summoned one out of thin air and restarted the game. Hob wondered briefly whether the coin would remain here or disappear later like those medical supplies yesterday.

This time Morpheus leaned in close, peering in through the glass as he maneuvered the controls. The claw lifted a star, but dropped it as soon as Morpheus moved the claw sideways.

“I still do not see the appeal.”

Morpheus was pouting and Hob didn’t bother to hide his smile this time. He had half-expected his friend to just magically pull a prize from the machine, but he was determined to experience it like how a human would. Hob loved that about him.

Despite what he said, Morpheus kept summoning coins and playing the game. Then Hob noticed that instead of aiming to drop the toys in the box in order to win, Morpheus was dropping as many toys as he could in one corner.

“What are you doing?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows at the growing pile of moons and stars and kittens.

“Strategizing.”

Intriguing, but it didn’t really answer his question. The pile grew some more, and Hob watched as Morpheus maneuvered the claw towards the pile and dropped it on top. It grabbed a kitten and two stars, and it slowly lifted up without dropping any of them.

Morpheus carefully moved the claw towards the box; the kitten and a star fell down, leaving one star for him to potentially win. Hob sensed Morpheus tense up as the claw kept moving, and Hob found himself holding his breath.

The claw stopped above the box and dropped their prize inside it.

Bells and lights came on from the machine and the word WINNER! appeared on top in multicolored lights.

Morpheus smirked at the machine, his eyes bright with victory.

Getting to see that, even though he barely did any of the work, Hob felt like he won, too.

His friend bent down to lift up the flap from the box on their side and took the toy.

“For you.” He held out his hand to Hob, the star resting on his palm.

“What?” Hob’s eyes widened in surprise, making no move to take it. “But that’s yours, you won that.”

“Yes. For you.” Morpheus was still holding out the prize to him.

“But… why?” Hob looked at the star and at his friend. “Is it because I bought you pizza and yogurt? I wanted to do those. You don’t have to give me anything in return.”

“I know. I want to. For you, Hob Gadling, I will obtain any star.” Those blue eyes were fixed on Hob, as if Morpheus meant what he said despite his playful smile.

Hob swallowed, unable to look away. God, how we would love to wake up to that face every morning. Opening his eyes and seeing Morpheus’ beautiful face next to him. Snuggle against Morpheus’ neck and stay in bed for a few more hours just enjoying each other’s warmth. For that, Hob would give up all the stars.

Stars. Morpheus’ eyes were suddenly filled with them. The previously blue eyes were now entirely black, save for pinpricks of bright light shining and moving around.

Hob was entranced; the entire city could have blown up at that moment and he wouldn’t have noticed. He felt like he was staring into the heart of a galaxy, and it was staring back at him.

“Your eyes...” he breathed.

Morpheus blinked rapidly a few times, and his blue eyes were back, looking surprised. “I apologize. I seem to have lost control of my human form for a moment.”

“W-What?” Hob slowly returned to his senses, like waking up from a dream. “Wait, you mean that’s what your eyes really look like? They’re beautiful.” He could hear the raw wonder in his voice and he didn’t care, Morpheus deserved to know.

A smile slowly appeared on his friend’s face. “I am… happy. That you feel that way.”

Oh, Hob’s feeling all sorts of things. He’s feeling like he wants to push Morpheus against the claw machine and kiss him senseless. He wants to taste the blueberry yogurt on Morpheus’ tongue. He wants Morpheus to teleport them back to his flat again so he could see what else Morpheus could make him feel.

Morpheus turned to look back out into the street, his posture perfect again. “Is the university still far from here?”

“Hm? Nah, it’s just a few more minutes’ walk. Why, you wanna do anything else? We can try the other games inside.”

Morpheus shook his head. “You still have classes, yes? I do not want to take up your work hours.”

Hob checked his watch. Morpheus was right, if they didn’t start walking to the university now, he might be late to his first class. He thought about suggesting that they just teleport over there so they could have more time with each other, but he didn’t want to seem like he sees his friend like a taxi service.

They came across an ice cream cart on their walk, and Hob instinctively wanted to buy one for Morpheus, but he suddenly had an image in his head of his friend eating out of an ice cream cone and decided against it. Maybe next time when he didn’t have to remain sane for his classes.

Hob greeted the guard at the university and said that Morpheus was his guest. The guard handed them a visitor’s ID that Hob clipped to Morpheus’ coat, and they made the walk to the upper floors.

“How long have you been working here?” Morpheus asked as they stepped through the doorway to Hob’s office.

“About five years now, only got my own office two years ago, though.” Hob closed the door behind them.

Morpheus approached Hob’s desk. On one side was a stack of notebooks for keeping records of things—Hob also had those records in his laptop but there’s a certain comfort to him in writing them down—and on the other was a small horse statue and a pencil holder with various writing utensils and a mail opener. The middle of the desk is clear for use.

“Does this serve a purpose?” Morpheus was about to reach for the statue but he pulled back his hand and looked at Hob. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Hob nodded. “It doesn’t really do anything, it’s just, you know, a white horse.”

Morpheus looked at him again, the statue in his hands. “The name of the tavern.”

Hob chuckled and hoped that the warmth on his face wasn’t too noticeable. “Yeah. I had a bigger version of it back in 1589. Had to sell it for food several years later. Then some time in 1990 I found that in an antique shop and bought it.”

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows and put the statue back on the desk. “Why in 1589?”

“Well…” Hob scratched the back of his neck, walking to stand beside Morpheus in front of his desk. “That was the year you walked out on me to talk to Shaxberd.” He tried not to say the name like it was a curse, he really did, but he still cringed internally when he heard his own voice. “Dunno if you remember.”

Morpheus took a step towards him, his eyebrows still furrowed. “I remember. I did not think you would mind.”

“Of course I did,” Hob said sincerely. “It was our one dayin a hundred years where we got to see each other and talk. It was our day. So after watching you walk away with that lad, I told my attendants to have a ridiculously big white horse statue made and brought to my manor.” It felt a bit surreal, recalling how he had attendants and a manor. He was a very different person back then. “I just wanted some sort of claim to you, I suppose, a reminder that The White Horse tavern meant more to us than what Shaxberd would ever understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Morpheus said softly. “It was not my intention to make you feel such things.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob smiled and shook his head dismissively. “It was a long time ago, and you were well within your rights to spend the night with whoever you wanted. Especially since I was sort of a pretentious prick back then.” He almost cringed again at remembering the way he spoke and treated other people, especially the tavern staff. “I hope you, uh, had a great night with Shaxberd. Shakespeare. Whoever.”

Morpheus looked at Hob curiously. “Are you thinking that I had bedded Will Shaxberd?”

Hob felt himself flush. “No— I mean— Yes I was thinking that but— It’s really none of my business.”

“I do not engage in casual dalliances.” Morpheus subtly scrunched up his nose for a brief moment. “We merely spoke. I said I would help inspire him with ideas, and he promised to make them come alive. He delivered.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to explain it to me, really,” Hob smiled sheepishly, though he did feel relieved at that knowledge. Besides, he didn’t want to think of Morpheus in that situation. Especially since the other person he imagines with Morpheus definitely isn’t Shaxberd. That train of thought is a slippery slope that Hob didn’t need right now.

Something changed in Morpheus’ expression, his cheekbones had a tinge of red, and for a second Hob could see the stars again before the blue eyes returned. They held an intensity now, almost a promise of danger, and Hob was acutely aware of how he felt thrilled about it rather than scared.

“Morpheus?” Hob asked tentatively, wondering what could have caused this change in his friend.

Then the pieces clicked into place.

Morpheus moving to hug him last night just as he was thinking about it…

Morpheus looking away at the arcade after Hob had thought of pressing him up against the claw machine…

And just now, Morpheus knowing that Hob thought he had slept with Shaxberd…

“Some dreams are louder than others and catch my attention,” Morpheus had said.

Did that include daydreams?

Oh no.

In his shock, his treacherous mind suddenly recalled all the things he'd been daydreaming the entire day about his friend. His efforts to push down such images only brought them to the forefront of his mind even more; it didn't help that Morpheus was standing so close to him. The scent of petrichor and old books and honeyed tea made Hob so heady that he wanted to bury his face in Morpheus’ neck to inhale lungfuls of it.

“Hob.” Morpheus’ strained voice held a warning.

“Oh my god, you can really see them,” Hob muttered, his eyes wide. He took a step back as he felt panic rising up in his chest and blood rushing to his face. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before looking apologetically at his friend. “I didn’t know you would see— Look, I understand you’re angry, but— We don’t even have to talk about it, alright? I’ll— I’ll stop thinking about those things, just—”

Morpheus grabbed his arm and pulled him close with surprising strength.

Before he could even give a cry of surprise, Hob felt his lower back pressed against his desk. Then Morpheus descended on him, their lips slotting together.

Hob froze, eyes wide and heart thumping in his throat.

Morpheus moved against him, sucking lightly on his lower lip, and Hob’s mind melted into his body. His hands moved on their own and found the back of Morpheus’ neck, pulling him even closer. Morpheus wrapped his arms around Hob’s waist as their tongues danced against each other, soft and slick and perfect. Morpheus dug his fingernails into Hob’s back, and such a moan escaped him that he dearly hoped no one was on the other side of the door.

Hob would have relished all of it for hours, but unfortunately he was still human and needed to breathe. He pulled away just enough to gasp in air, but he kept their foreheads pressed, his hands in Morpheus’ hair.

“I… I thought you didn’t…” Hob panted, trying to remember how to speak English. “Casual dalliances…”

“Oh, there is nothing casual about this, Hob Gadling.” There was a hunger in Morpheus’ voice, and his eyes were black and starry once more.

Hob attempted to speak but what came out was more of a whimper.

The intensity in Morpheus’ gaze sobered a little, and he loosened his hold on Hob. “If you wish to stop—”

“No,” Hob grabbed Morpheus’ coat and held firm. He was still trying to catch his breath and form coherent sentences, but he definitely knew that stopping was not what he wanted. “I just… why? Why are you doing this?” There was so much hope in Hob’s heart that it hurt.

“Because I want you, Hob Gadling,” he said softly, reaching up to caress Hob’s face. “I want your gentle mornings, your long nights. I want your bright laughter that never fails to bring me warmth. The sparkle in your eyes that puts the most luminous stars to shame. I want to give you everything your heart wishes, and hold you in my own. You are not a casual dalliance, my dearest Hob. You are… everything to me.” He traced his thumb across Hob’s cheekbone, trailing it downwards and following the shape of Hob’s jawline. “And it all but overwhelms me to know that you might want me, too.”

Might? As if Hob ever had any doubt about it. As if his skin didn’t thrum wherever Morpheus touched, as if those words didn’t overwhelm him.

He pulled Morpheus by the coat and crashed their lips together. “Oh you beautiful, impossible creature,” he spoke in between kisses, not wanting to part with Morpheus’ lips longer than necessary to get the words out. “You have no idea… just how much I’ve been wanting you. Far more and for longer than you know.”

Morpheus growled against Hob’s lips and lifted him up, seating him on the desk and making him gasp in surprise. Morpheus settled his hips between Hob’s thighs, pushing forward with his kisses until their bodies were pressed together.

Hob’s world spun and nothing else existed but Morpheus’ lips and tongue and touch. They explored each other’s mouths with an increasing fervor, Morpheus running his hands along Hob’s back and trailing electricity with his fingers.

Hob could taste the cosmos on Morpheus’ lips, stars turning into supernovas each time their tongues collide. He desperately clutched at Morpheus’ hair and knew that he didn’t want to be anywhere else—

“Professor Gadling?” A knock sounded at the door. “Are you there?”

They pulled apart, gasping and holding each other.

Morpheus’ hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed and his lips red and glistening. His eyes had turned back to their human appearance but were no less piercing as he waited for what Hob would do.

Hob swallowed and tore his eyes away from such a tempting sight. He looked at the door instead and made considerable efforts to make his voice sound normal. “Yes?”

“I have the invitation for the book fair. Can I come in?” It was Paula’s voice, one of his colleagues.

Morpheus stepped back and gently tugged Hob to stand on the floor again. With a wave of his hand, they both looked decent and not like they had just spent the last few minutes devouring each other.

“Yeah, come in.” Hob might look normal again but he was still lightheaded, and he sincerely hoped that Paula wouldn’t ask him any questions about his lesson plans or anything that required working brain cells.

The door opened, and Paula came in to see Hob and Morpheus standing a few feet apart from each other. “Oh! Sorry, Professor, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“No, it’s okay.” They could continue whatever they were doing later at his flat, anyway. The thought of that sent a pool of desire low in Hob’s belly that he did his best to squash down lest it manifest itself physically in his trousers. “This is Morpheus. My… um…” Damn, they hadn't talked about that yet.

“Good afternoon,” Morpheus smiled politely. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Paula seemed surprised at Morpheus’ voice, and Hob couldn’t blame her. She smiled back. “Good afternoon. I won’t be long, just here to give Robert the invitation for the book fair tomorrow.” She handed Hob a white envelope with the university’s logo. “Remember, wear smart casual,” she said with a playfully stern tone, an inside joke that the professors have developed when imitating their dean.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hob waved her off with an equally playful tone. “Oh, we all get plus ones, right?” he suddenly remembered.

“We do,” Paula nodded, smiling and glancing at Morpheus like she already knew what Hob was planning. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to both of them before getting out and closing the door behind her.

There was a moment of silence between them, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Morpheus was looking at Hob with an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“What?” Hob demanded, though he felt like smiling himself.

“Your colleague was wise to knock. Next time we shall lock the door.” He stepped closer to Hob with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Don’t do that to me here,” Hob chided, though it didn’t sound convincing even to himself.

“Do what?” Morpheus feigned an innocent tone.

“Talk like you’re temptation on two legs.” Hob pulled him in for a chaste kiss, then pulled away to show him the envelope. “Do you wanna go to the book fair with me tomorrow? I mean, if you don’t have any plans…” he trailed off, still not used to being able to ask to see Morpheus so casually.

“I shall be there. Besides, your colleague is already expecting both of us to attend. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her,” he said playfully.

Hob rolled his eyes. Then he remembered something. “Oh! Sorry I told her your name, I hope that’s alright? I just didn’t know what to say.”

“It is perfectly fine.” Morpheus reassured him. “Especially if it precedes you calling me yours.”

Christ, he did say that, didn’t he? And Morpheus didn’t mind at all. He even liked it. Hob smiled giddily. “How would you like me to introduce you to my friends at the book fair? You know, just in case they ask. I don’t wanna fumble around again like I did earlier.”

Morpheus hummed thoughtfully. “Would ‘lover’ suffice?”

Hob felt his face warm. He was about to explain that it might be too… suggestive a term to say to work colleagues, but he caught the amusement in Morpheus’ eyes. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”

“Very much so.”

Hob shook his head in defeat, a smile forming on his face. Then he caught sight of the wall clock and remembered why they came here in the first place.

“Ah, right, I have a class to go to. Thanks for walking with me here.”

“It was a delightful experience. As it always is with you.”

“Alright, you better leave before I start having daydreams again,” Hob said pointedly.

Morpheus laughed, a soft one that brightened his face and shook his shoulders just the slightest bit. Hob decided he would do everything he could to hear that sound again.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Hob smiled. “Tomorrow.”

— —

Author's Note:

Chapter 3 will be posted sometime in January! I hope you liked this one ^_^

Edit: Artworks! <3

Art by @patchyegg87 depicting them playing the game at the arcade~

Art by @emihotaru depicting their kiss~

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