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whisperprime · 1 year

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Edit: Somehow a ton of paragraphs got moved around before posting this. Not sure how that happened, but they should all now be fixed now.

It rains near nonstop over the following day, but it puts little damper on Hob's good mood.

For the first time in centuries, he knows he will see Dream again. He doesn't have a precise date, but he will see him again.

And it won't be life or death or some other traumatic reason.

He hopes.

The thought buoys up his good mood and keeps it there through the morning and well into the afternoon.

Lucas, the head of his team of contractors, has been eyeing him all day. Hob is a little surprised it takes the man as long as it does to finally comment on it. "You’re in a good mood today. Meet someone new last night?"

Hob took a moment to finish sanding the area of the bar he had been working. They had just recently installed it and he'd wanted to try and knock out the staining and finish before the end of the week. Spot to his liking, he turned his attention to his nosey, friendly acquaintance. "No, no one new."

Lucas raises an eyebrow. His look is far too knowing. "Ah, one of those." He pats Hob on the shoulder, telegraphing the intent before following through when Hob doesn't move away, as he passes to get some more paint. "Old flames can be alluring, but you're just as likely to get burnt the second time."

Hob makes a noncommittal noise, both at the touch and the comment. From what he's observed, Lucas is always tactile with those around him that will let him get away with it. He thinks it his way of showing that he's come to see Hob as one of the boys.

He also thinks Lucas views him as a feral cat in need of getting used to human touch. Hob blames that on the fact that the first time the blond man had done it, the immortal had flinched so hard he'd spilled his drink. It had been the first time Hob had been touched by someone other than Dream since he'd been rescued.

Lucas had been more mortified than Hob had been, the latter brushing off the apologies. He hadn't explained why he'd flinched, but he had assured Lucas that it was fine to touch him, just warn him first. None of the rest of his crew were quite so tactile, but word had still spread amongst the group.

Since then, there was always a pause for permission before any contact.

Hob still felt the twinge of fear that Mammon had stolen the ease and love he'd had with touch, even as he reminded himself that all wounds took time to heal from.

Amy snorts from where she was tackling another wall. She's one of two women that made up Lucas' six-person crew. "You only say that because you have terrible taste in partners."

Mary, the second woman, laughs from near by Amy. "All of them might as well be incubi, for all Lucas can't stay away from them."

Lucas points a paint brush at them. "You're both just jealous I have an eye for excellent looking men."

The women made a few jeers at his exspense. Lucas might have an eye for great looking men, but he was not great at distinguishing keepers from one's that really should have remained one night stands.

Hob joins in their merriment. "It's not nearly that exciting. Just ran into an old acquaintance I thought I might not see again. Said they'd come by sometime."

Mary gives him a sympathetic hum. "Oh, but we know that look, luv. You definitely want them to be more than that."

Hob won't deny it, but he also doesn't want to prod this topic too much. His hopes are far too close to being up. "Cheeky, the lot of you. Am I paying you to build my pub or tease me?"

"Both!" Six voices ring out together. Hob contemplates flicking paint at them but doesn't care to start a paint fight when he still needs to get this bar table taken care of.

He finishes it within the next few days, which is just as well. In the weeks leading up to the start of the new term, Hob is forced to switch his focus from working on the New Inn with the builders to preparing for returning to the classroom.

Seeing the office that will soon be his home away from home feels like some integral part of himself sliding back into place. He wasn't always a teacher in the time between the Other Dream's death and when he met the Herald, but it was a preferred profession.

Add all this to teaching at a new school for the first time and Hob's feeling really good about his near future.

The afternoon of the day before the start of classes, Hob retreats out to a bench not far from the Inn. The contractors hadn't been in that day, so Hob had been taking it as an excuse to take some down time before everything went straight into the chaos that was the start of any semester.

The weather outside is a nice 21°C and Hob just takes a moment to close his eyes and bask in the sunlight. He has had ample opportunities over the summer to get some sun, and even taken many of them, but it still hasn't gotten old.

Hob's lounging spot is close enough to the park to hear the sounds of other people also taking advantage of the good weather, but far enough away so as not to be bothered by them. He is getting better with crowds, but he still finds them to be overwhelming after a while. There are too many people to keep track of and he has difficulty truly relaxing.

He absolutely could not allow himself to close his eyes and let his guard down in one. This is the other reason he had chosen this spot. Close enough to hear civilization, but far enough away that the sounds of a crowd would not drown out the noise of someone approaching while he has his eyes closed, face turned up to the sun.

It's been a fairly good system, so far.

Which is why he nearly jumps out of his own skin when he hears someone take a seat beside him.

Hob tenses. The average human shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him, so this is either the not so average human or something not human at all.

He's aware the being he's waiting for is perfectly capable of sneaking up on him, and has already done so once in this new timeline, but one doesn't spend 96 years not knowing when a demon is going to come for them without becoming more than a little hyper vigilant.

Hob slowly cracks an eye open and tilts his head to the side to get a look at his guest.

And all at once feels the tension drain out of him as he sees that it is, indeed, Dream.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, dove," he says as he relaxes back down onto the bench.

Dream nods in acknowledgement of the critique. He does not give any promises that it will not happen again.

Git.

Hob huffs as he sits up properly. “Good timing, as usual, though. If you showed up this time tomorrow, I’d be neck deep in afternoon classes.”

The Dream Lord raises an eyebrow at that. His attention focuses fully in that way that Hob has come to know that Hob has said something he finds of curious. “You are returning to school.”

“Yes, but not as a student.” The immortal grins and does a partial bow, similar to how he’d done when he’d introduced himself as a knight in 1589, but while still sitting. “Professor Gadsen, at your service.”

Something warms behind Dream’s eyes in much the same way they had when Hob had told him he’d started in the printing profession. “You’ve become a teacher.”

Hob straightens back up, his hand going to his ear in slight embarrassment. He’s forgotten how nice it felt to have his old friend look at him like that. “I did some off and on work as a professor in the other timeline. Must have taught at a dozen different schools. Didn’t always do it, but it’s probably my favorite profession, with publishing after that.”

Dream tilts his head to the side at the reminder that Hob has lived this whole other life. “What subject?”

Hob doesn’t know if he means what he’s taught in the past or if he means this time around. Decides to stick with the present, for now. “History 101, this time. Got my first two classes tomorrow.”

Dream nods. He falls silent, afterword, seriousness settling back on him like a cloak.

Hob, knowing this was unlikely to be a simple pleasure trip, waits to see what this is about.

He’s not kept waiting long.

“I have some questions about the memory.”

Ah. Of course.

Hob sighs. “I think it would be best to move this conversation indoors.” He stands up and points over his shoulder. “I know a place we can chat uninterrupted, if you’re okay with a change in scenery.”

The Endless nods his consent, before rising to his feet as well. He follows as Hob starts heading back home. “Where are we going?”

The immortal throws a smile over his shoulder and points to the building in question. “Just a little something I’ve been working on for the last five months. She’s not done yet, but she’s getting there.” He near bounds up to the door as they near it. Opens the door and holds it open for Dream to enter for. “May I present: The New Inn.”

Dream pauses in the doorway, taking in the room before him. Most of the structure is finished, along with the bar and back room. He hasn’t gotten all of the appliances for the kitchen just yet, nor has he brought in even a fraction of the table and chairs, but there is a fridge and stove back there, along with a single table and chair out on the main floor that Hob, Lucas, and his crew take breaks out.

It’s not quite how he’d hoped to first introduce it, but he’ll take his victories where he can.

When Dream finally enters, allowing Hob to follow, he slowly works his way around the bar and into the main sitting area. A single, pale hand reaches out and runs along the lacquered surface of the bar table. “The New Inn is a pub?��

Hob puts his hands into his pocket to keep them from giving away his nervousness. Is glad he did when his old friend turns to face him fully, something intense laying behind those blue eyes staring back at him inquisitively.

“Yeah.” Hob answers simply. “I built her the first time, too.”

He watches as the implications of the statement lands. Blue eyes briefly darken, before that heat is banked.

Hob clears his throat. Gestures to one of the seats, as he offers, “Would you like some tea? I think I have a brew you’d like in stock.”

He knows full well that Dream will like it. It had taken a few tries, but he and the Other Dream had found one he’d like. It hadn’t done anything for him, truly, the way tea drank in a dream would, but he’d enjoyed the taste of it. Hob had made sure to keep some on hand in the decades that followed, even if he couldn’t bear to drink any of it, just so he wouldn’t forget.

Dream nods as he takes the seat and Hob quickly escapes back into the back.

The excuse of making tea gives him the chance to settle himself. Knows that this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. Curses the fates, again, for the memory having somehow followed him.

Maybe dawdles a bit more than he should, because he really doesn’t want to talk about this. Hob briefly daydreams about hiding up in his flat upstairs, until he belatedly remembers that the being in the other room can hear daydreams and that really is going to give off the wrong impression.

Sure enough, when he returns to the sitting area, Dream looks like he’s mere minutes away from getting up and hunting him down. Hob chuckles softly at the look, ignoring the glare he gets in response for his amusement. “Sorry, dove. I wasn’t really going to do it.”

Dream’s glare turns to something more considering, as it sinks in that Hob was saying he wasn’t planning on following through with his daydream. He clearly wants to interrogate the immortal human over what all he knows.

Hob isn’t about to hide that from him, but he’s kind of enjoying being the mysterious one for a change and he’s not about to give up all his secrets unless asked for them.

It seems that line of questioning is for another day, because what Dream asks is: “What originally happened in 1916?”

The wave of anger, both old and new, is familiar, and Hob doesn’t try to tame of his face as it twists into a snarl. “Some half-assed magician thought he could summon Death. Planned to try and get her to bring back his son.” He wrapped his hands around his mug in a way that suggested he wished it was something else. Blue eyes ticked down to them, cataloging the response. “Wasn’t Death he got though.”

The room around them dropped several degrees, anger and affront in the downwards twist of Dream’s lips. “Did he not understand the damage he would have done to his world?”

Hob took a sip of his tea - the same flavor as Dream’s - and shrugged. “He wasn’t affected, so what did he care?” He placed the mug back down on the table. “Bastard died in 1926. To my understanding, it was his son that held your counterpart captive for the most of the time he was down there.”

He thinks of Alex Burgess, who fled Fawney Rig to run off with the man he loved. Wonders what was so different this time that he found the courage to run away rather than lock himself in a prison of his own making. Ponders if it was possibly because Paul had been else where, and as such, was a stronger lure away.

It was a thought.

Dream seems to finally remember that tea was placed in front of him. He takes a sip as he ponders this new information. Pauses to stare down at the liquid like he’s never seen tea before and Hob knows he’s scored a win with the flavor. The tea gets an almost mournful look as Dream drags his attention away from it. “Who was it that tried to summon my sister?”

Hob contemplates the pros and cons of sic’ing Dream of the Endless on Roderick Burgess. Finds himself asking, instead, “Does it matter? They didn’t succeed.”

Dream breathes out slowly, lips a thin line of unhappiness. “Perhaps you have a point. They would be long dead by now anyway.”

Hob holds his tongue and lets the misunderstanding go. He does not correct him to protect Burgess from Dream, but rather because it feels too much like he would be turning his friend into a weapon if he told the truth.

He has already done that once before. He never plans to do it again.

No. He will deal with Roderick Burgess himself when the time comes.

The immortal human finishes his tea in a single gulp, savoring the sweet peppermint taste. It isn’t one of his favorites, personally, but he can still enjoy it. Especially with how long it’s been since he’s last had any. “Mm. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some more tea.” He tips the empty cup in Dream’s direction. “Do you want anything else while I’m back there?”

Dream shakes his head, an air of distraction to the movement.

Hob does not try to stall a second time. Really just wanted some more tea. When he returns to the sitting area, he’s almost surprised to see the Dream Lord is still there.

And frowning at him. “What?” He hadn’t even daydreamed about escaping this time!

“You are still limping.”

“Oh, yes.” The immoral human returns back to his seat. “I don’t have the networks I had the first time around, so I have to wait until I can find a new doctor who’s willing to fix it but not ask any questions.” He would have been more than happy to look someone up from the first time around, but it’s been 273 years since he lived this year. He thinks he deserves to be forgiven for not remembering anyone’s names except the important ones.

Dream studies him. Carefully, he says, “I could fix it for you.”

Hob stares at him. “What?”

Dream gives him a look that states that he heard right the first time and he’s not going to get a repeat of it.

Hob coughs and shifts in his seat. The thought of those pale hands touching his ankle doing some odds things to his higher brain functions. “Sorry, dove. I just didn’t think this would be something you’d do.”

He gets a strange look in response, although he’s not sure over what. “I have broken things far stronger than human bones before.”

Oh, Hob has little doubt about that. Still, it’s not something he was expecting to have to deal with tonight, and finds himself at war between finally dealing with the issue and wanting more time to prepare for it.

He remembers that these aren’t things you’re ever prepared for. There isn’t really a reason to put it off. If set right, the bone will be healed by morning. He'll have to come up with a cover story for the sudden disappearance of his limp though.

Taking a deep breathe, he nods. “Let me run up stairs to grab something to bite on real quick. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

He’s halfway out of the chair, when Dream rises to his feet instead. “There is no need.” He holds out his hand, palm up and facing Hob, who suddenly finds himself flashing back to a certain encounter in 1789.

Instinctively, Hob goes completely still. “What are you doing?”

“I wish to sedate you.” Dream nods to the chair he’d just been getting out of. “You will want to sit back down first. I will wake you when it is over.”

Hob relaxes a fraction and his face splits into a smile at the consideration. “It's a kind offer, but I've dealt with worse.”

Dream has the same stubbornness to him as when Hob tried to will off sleep right after his rescue. “If you will not do it for your peace of mind, then do it for mine. I will inevitably hurt you, Hob Gadling. I do not wish for this to be one of those times.”

“Ah, dove. How can I say no to that?” Hob feels himself folding like a wet tissue paper. He’s sitting before he even makes the decision to do so. “Yes. Yes, you can send me off to your kingdom for a bit.”

That pale hand starts to rise again just as a thought crosses Hob’s mind. He holds up his hands to block his eyes, as if that would actually protect them. “Wait!”

Dream pauses, and there’s a flash of irritation as his patience appears to be wearing thin at the interruptions. He near snaps, “What?”

The idea is mad and he’s likely pushing it. But Hob never got anywhere without being willing to take risks. And this is a risk he’s always loathed never taking. “Will you join me?” At the look of confusion, he elaborates, “In the dream.”

One of those elegant dark eyebrows goes up. “Why?”

Hob’s fingers go to his ear, nervousness winning out. “I want to thank you for this. For the rescue, too.” He drops his hand and squares his shoulders. “Let me treat you to a meal, in the Dreaming.”

Dream considers him, a knowing look in his eyes. “You do not owe me anything, Hob Gadling.”

He knows, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to spend more time with him. To take every chance he can get while he still can. “Maybe, but I still want to.”

A long silence. He’s just starting to fear he’s pushed too far, when, “Very well. I will join you for this meal.”

Hob feels his heart soar. He near leaps to his feet. “Well, if this is going to take a while, perhaps we should do this upstairs? We’ll be less likely to be interrupted if I sleep on my couch then down here.”

Dream hums in response to this. Hob gets the impression he’s said something of interest, but he’s not sure why living in the Inn would catch his interest. “You do not need to stop at the couch.” The immortal human pauses as he’s opening a back door that leads to the stairs to his flat. There’s that mischievous grin again that tells Hob he’s about to get another bombshell. “We can do this just fine in your bed.”

Hob feels his jaw drop. “Are you teasing me?”

The look he receives in return is too innocent looking to be for real. “Am I?”

Oh, one of these days, Hob is going to have his sweet, sweet revenge on this insufferable creature. He really will.

In the meantime, he’s just going to bemoan the fact that he’s totally not cleaned his bedroom recently and he had clearly not thought this through as well as he thought he had.

Part 13

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