#wouldn’t be a picnic without the threat of ants
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Picnic | Dream/Hob | 1.7K | G
light and happy fluff, Hob loves springtime, Matthew hates giving dating advice, and the only pining is Dream pining for an A+ in dating, a thing that is both normal to want and possible to achieve
for Domaystic Drabbles, Day 4: Packed Lunch
ty to @softest-punk for twigging me to the sweet @domaystic prompts. It got a little out of hand!
----
Hob had seen several thousand fine spring days. He’d seen keen snowdrops surfacing in February, a hundred congregations of crocuses bursting forth to greet the turning of the seasons, and entire delegations of wild daffodils lancing through leaf-fall and trumpeting their blossoms with an attitude that suggested they knew themselves to be the first and only creatures to master the colour yellow. He’d watched six centuries of human habitation dusted with the same fine pollen as alder and birch unfurled their catkins like festival garlands, and he’d— he’d gotten distracted again.
He blinked at the paper in front of him. He’d forgotten it was there. Or that he was meant to be grading it.
That, too: six centuries of the wild joy of spring distracting him from whatever passed for worthy toil at the time. Six centuries of the whiff of warm breeze setting off some yet-unexplained chemical reaction in his brain that made him want to dash outside and not come back in for weeks. Six centuries of him becoming temporarily mad and cheerfully insufferable to all those around him with the joy of it. He’d never get used to it, and Christ help him if he let anyone around him get used to it either.
“What a gorgeous day,” he remarked, to the untouched stack of student work.
It said nothing back, but he beamed down at it anyway, and then, sighing in the manner of a man happy to be defeated, turned his office chair to face the cracked-open window and watch the house martins build their newest nest.
---
“Matthew.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“I require your counsel. For a human matter.” Dream’s brow was furrowed, his manner grave. Hob, then.
Matthew inclined his head and hopped sideways in what he’d decided was the corvid equivalent of girding his loins.
“Hob keeps commenting on the weather on our outings.” He sounded anguished.
“The weather?” he repeated dumbly. Thank fuck. Two days ago it had been the number of orgasms human males required. Daily. Which, good for the two of them, but c’mon. Matthew had really not needed that knowledge about the kind of refractory period and appetite you acquire after half a millenia of boning. Hob, unfortunately, was Dream’s first human boyfriend, and the boss was setting about his new function with all the usual terrifying intensity and insane demands of perfection. In service of this, Matthew (unilaterally and undemocratically, he might add) had been named Arbiter Of All Things Men, which seemed kind of like a reach considering he was a bird, and one who’d been only, like, a little bisexual in his human life. The Corinthian was always skulking around. He wasn’t human either, but at least he’d fucked dudes. He’d have tips. Or Loosh! Loosh knew everything. She could give Dream books and send him off. Instead of Matthew trying to remember how the fuck dating worked.
“-time we’ve met this week.”
“Right,” said Matthew vaguely.
“What does he mean by it? He knows I cannot change the weather in the Waking. He asks nothing of me, and yet it is incessant.”
“Complaining about it, huh? Humans love to complain, boss.”
“No,” said Dream, looking wretched. “Worse. Earnest, ceaseless praise.”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” What?
Dream was pacing the throne room like he was auditioning for community theater. “At the National Gallery, he daydreamed of the city park outside while feigning to contemplate a Pesellino. I took him to a production of Macbeth at the Globe, and afterwards, he said that even after centuries, it was never less than marvelous to watch. He was referring to the swifts feeding above us in the third act. Naturally.”
Matthew made a sympathetic noise. If he didn’t know when to keep his mouth - er, beak - shut, he’d say that Dream sounded like an insecure lover. Jealous, as best he could tell, of the change of seasons for stealing away some of Hob’s uncannily boundless affections.
“Well?” Dream stared at him in askance.
“Uh.” He floundered. Spring shit, spring shit. “You could take him on a picnic.” Yeah. Chicks loved picnics.
---
Dream had appeared in his office with a wicker basket that looked stolen from a Beatrix Potter story. A delicate gingham square peeked from the lid. It looked big enough to set up a naughty rabbit for life. He set it on Hob’s desk and then primly folded his hands behind his back.
“Hullo, you.” Hob stood and kissed him on the cheek. “What’s the occasion?” He suspected that there was none. Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was delightful.
“Matthew has suggested you require a picnic,” said Dream. Except he said it the way someone else might say The doctor has suggested it’s terminal.
Dream had been taking dating him very seriously. It was also, sometimes, awful.
“Oh, darling. That’s so sweet. But I don’t require anything special, you know. Just you, when you’ve got time to drop in. We could do something else.”
“We shall not. I have packed us lunch.”
“Alright, you stubborn creature. Maybe I do require a picnic.” He offered his arm to Dream. “Come on, I know a place.”
---
Lunch was too piddling a word for the spread Dream had packed. Lunch was a crust of bread and ale, or pottage. Lunch was a Sainsbury’s Egg & Cress Sandwich wolfed down with the last of the morning’s flask of Yorkshire Tea. This was a feast. A temple offering. For Hob. His chest twinged a little with affection. God, he was in love.
“This pleases you,” said Dream, who was looking unfairly elegant for someone sat on a gingham blanket with a bit of clotted cream on the side of his mouth.
Hob kissed it away. “Oh, yes.”
“More than our other...dates.”
“Oh,” said Hob, who was sometimes slow on the uptake, but after several centuries, didn’t miss much at all. “I’ve loved all of them. But this-” he gestured sweepingly around at Primrose Hill, the green ash shading them, the pleasant urban pastoral of joggers and families and dogs and other love-struck couples, all breathing in the same warm afternoon air, “-is exactly where I want to be, today. Outside, among all the life. In the thick of spring. It’s perfect.”
Dream followed Hob’s gaze, and studied the tableau. “There is nothing exceptional about this weather or setting.” He sounded as nonplussed as creature with nearly infinite age and knowledge could sound.
Hob laced his fingers through Dream’s, and tried to see what he saw. No great stories, really. Pedestrian daydreams of food and sun and sex, probably, of pay raises and summer vacations to Mallorca and Ibiza. Humanity being predictable, and life doing the same thing it did every year, to Dream’s uncountable thousands.
“No, I suppose not, but that’s why I love it, too. It’s familiar. Constant. Centuries, and it catches me out each time. It’s always arrived, no matter how bad things were for me. Always been there to celebrate with me when they’re wonderful. Like now.”
Dream looked sidelong at Hob. “Like now,” he echoed. Unsure, and stubbornly unwilling to make a question of it. The ache in Hob’s chest redoubled itself.
“Like now,” he promised. “It reminds me of you, too, you know. We always met in June, Dream. In 1789, watching the first trees budding nearly drove me mad with anticipation. Ninety-nine years and nine months. And you were always heralded by the same signs.” He traced circles on Dream’s pale palm, imagining it sun-kissed. “In 1989, when spring turned all the way into summer and you were still gone, I think my heart broke a little. I’d hoped, until then. That you were just late. With the swifts,” he said, quiet.
“Hob.” Dream had moved across the picnic blanket in his preternaturally fast way, and was now more or less in his lap, gripping Hob’s shoulders.
“Sorry,” he said, grimacing. “I’m being horrifically soppy. Must’ve been the scones. It’s alright. You’re here now. All that matters.”
“Robert Gadling,” said Dream. Hob blinked at that. He’d only ever gotten the full name treatment when Dream was still his Stranger, and only then when he’d disappointed him. “If you dare apologize for such a fine expression of your sentiment, I will be wroth with you.”
“Sorry,” he said again, smiling this time.
“I am honoured you associate me with the season you most adore. I would have it that you never pass another Spring waiting for me. If you wished such a thing.”
It sounded a little like a marriage proposal, which was something his heart really could not cope with the full size of at the minute. Not with so much love already around. Not if Dream didn’t intend to say it like that. He went for levity instead.
“Even though it’s driven me to distraction every time you’ve taken me out this week? Even if all I want to do for weeks is lie around outdoors and hold hands?”
Nearby, a baby started wailing. Dream, to his credit, didn’t even glance away. “Yes,” he said, perfectly solemn, perfectly certain. “Even then.”
“Well, that’s alright then,” said Hob, fighting an urge to start crying a little as well. “I would, as a matter of fact. Wish such a thing.”
They looked at each other, besotted, while the wailing continued.
“Only,” murmured Dream, “must it be in Anthropocene?”
“What?”
“Lie down, lover.” Hob did, a delighted suspicion creeping over him as Dream reached into his jacket pocket. Dream stretched over him, and spoke it low into his ear: “And I will take you to a Spring no man has seen.”
---
Matthew was eating scone crumbs and congratulating himself on his good sense to suggest a picnic. Birds loved picnics too. He hadn’t realized how much until this moment. Jesus. Picnics were a great idea. He was going to tell Dream that human men required them weekly during courtship.
“Thanks for bringing home leftovers, boss,” he said, spraying crumbs all over Dream’s shoulder.
Dream was too preoccupied to mind, or even notice. He waved an imperious hand. “It’s nothing. We absconded from the Waking shortly after we arrived. I have finally given Hob a worthy date. I showed him the virtues of picnicking in a Dreaming Spring.” Oh my god. Dream actually had been jealous of the weather. Because he hadn’t made it for Hob.
“What, no ants?” he offered.
“Hardly so prosaic,” said Dream. He glowed with satisfaction. “The very first.”
#dreamling#domaystic2023#extremely soft and silly#picnics and ants and trying to make your new boyfriend happy#domestic fluff: early dating edition#the sandman#my writing#fic post#dream of the endless#hob gadling#ants first appeared in the mid-cretaceous 90 million years ago#dream taking hob to a shakespeare play when he could take him to lunch with DINOSAURS (and the first ants ofc)#wouldn’t be a picnic without the threat of ants
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Constellations Collide
An art trade I did with @dreamerdraws2018 !!! A fic about her OC’s Galileo and Nova meeting!!!
I hope you all Enjoy!!! Fic under the cut!!
On the outskirts of San Francisco, there stood a rather elegant looking post office. Humans and toons alike strolled by it nonstop and even got their mail from the place without ever stopping to think that it could be more than it seemed. The stylish exterior and tall clock spire made the place seem on the up and up, almost...church like in a way, but this place was anything but holy, despite the angel that lurked within its walls.
Oh sure the mail ran in and out, but behind the sacks of mail and the rows and rows of post office boxes, up a hidden staircase there was an office that housed one of the most powerful and feared Mafia Dons in the whole city.
It was a perfect cover, packages going in and out could hold anything...booze, drugs, weapons...even other toons and people..it all depended on how much money was paid and what deals had been laid. But despite the usual smooth workings of his empire, it had been...a day.
A very long…
Long…
ANNOYING day.
Excruciatingly so, if Galileo was being honest. Paperwork, calls, people just being downright damn bunglers at their jobs. It was quickly building up into too much for him and that...well that was bad news for everyone.
If the boss wasn’t happy, no one else was happy either.
Seated at his desk, surrounded by the organized stacks of paper, Galileo closed his eyes as he ran over the thoughts of the day. A low growl rumbled in his chest, the sound startling his men that stood at parade rest in the room. Slowly, they all tensed, subtly glancing at one another with a twinge of nervousness in their gazes. One had to learn to read the room when working for a Don, or you could find yourself looking like swiss cheese.
The constellation freckled angel shoved back from the desk, the movement and noise of the wheels of the black leather chair against the fine wood flooring startling the men. As he stood and pulled open one of his drawers, many pairs of eyes followed, shoulders and legs tensing as their boss reached into it and pulled out a rather expensive looking pair of shoulder holsters laden with a pair of even more expensive looking guns.
The lines of tense shoulders relaxed as the guns remained in place after the holsters were slipped on, Galileo shifting and adjusting slightly, making sure that should his wings come out, they wouldn’t snag on the straps. It was a custom made fit, perfect for one such as himself.
Once armed, sharp steps took the angel to a nearby coat rack where he tugged his jacket from its hook along with his hat, slinging them both on and giving a sharp turn of his head to the men. They were quick to stand up a bit straighter and suck in their guts a bit to avoid earning the boss’s ire. The silence hung heavy in the air for a moment, as if he enjoyed watching them shift and sweat under his gaze. Mercifully, he spoke, his voice tight with the annoyance he was feeling, “I’m going for a walk. Damien’s in charge.” And with that short and simple order, out he marched, the heels of his shoes snapping against the hardwood floor.
None were foolish enough to stand in the way, since..well..none of them had a deathwish at this time.
Once out of his office, Galileo let out a slow exhale, his eyes falling closed a moment as he stood with his back to the door. It was a simple looking door, plain oak with a frosted glass window; the words 'MAIN OFFICE' painted in gold lettering in the middle. Such a plain looking door, no one would ever suspect that the head honcho of a well known Mafia worked here...just as it should be.
He sighed and adjusted his coat before briskly walking towards the stairs that led down through the floors of the main building. Due to the hour, the usually bustling place was eerily quiet, giving the whole building an almost reverent feel to it. Galileo smiled just a bit as he made his way down the stairs, his gloved hand smoothing along the polished brass of the railing. The coolness of the metal soothed him as his footsteps echoed almost like gunshots in the silent building. High windows let in rectangles of light that shifted over his shoulders as he rounded a landing and continued downward.
Once on the main floor, he strolled past the main mail room, and past the rows and rows of boxes standing a silent vigil over the first floor. It was almost claustrophobic in a way, all those little doors stacked and piled so tightly together in such a small space. The room was quiet, and smelled of floor polish, soft motes of dust drifting lazily through the sunbeams from the nearby windows. Galileo give a glance at his rather well established front and couldn't help but smirk before he pushed open the wood and glass paned door. Effortlessly, he stepped out onto the front stoop and into the cool sunset air, taking a slow breath and looking around.
It was a beautiful sight to his eyes. Though it wasn't the main city, they still had their traffic, their toons and people running here and there like ants over a picnic. The angel stood there a moment, surveying his domain. Trucks and cars rolled by with their chugging engines, humans and toons milling about in their own lives. Coming from work, going to work..it was like a heartbeat...a heartbeat that pulled a ghost of a smile from Galileo as he made his way down the steps and onto the sidewalk to join the river of people.
Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, Galileo pulled out a small silver case and a box of matches. Opening the case, he easily plucked a cigarette from its slot and slipped it between his lips. A swipe of a match on a nearby building and it lit with a brilliant flare, quickly quieting down to a small dancing flame as he cupped it close to his face, lighting the cigarette and taking the first slow draw. His tension lowered with that first inhale, flicking the burned out match aside as he pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew a slow lazy stream over his head into the sky, his eyes closing from the moment of bliss.
Continuing onwards, he set his sights on the far end of town, observing how the city changed as he got closer and closer to the edge. It was early in the evening, the sun slowly starting to dip towards the horizon, leaving heavy shadows on the pavement that stretched out wide as though to swallow up the small neighborhood. His eyes lifted to the blaze of oranges that lit the sky on fire, the slight twinkling of stars barely visible as night slowly drew closer with each step he took.
Beautiful…
A small smile quirked his lips as he pushed his coat back from his hips and sank his hands into his pockets, his back giving that slight telltale itch it always did when his wings were due to emerge. Galileo wound his way through the foot traffic, passing by human and toon alike until soon, sidewalk gave way to soft green grass and pebbles beneath his shoes.
He took one last long drag of his cigarette as his wings shifted and flexed outward, splaying wide as they appeared with the falling of the sun behind the horizon. A little sigh of smoke as he let the butt fall from his fingers, grinding it under his shoe before large wings flexed and with a strong downbeat, he became airborne.
Galileo barely took notice as his little strip of town became smaller and smaller at his feet, catching a thermal and easily riding it up and up, the wind whipping past his face and tousling his hair and clothes. His eyes scanned the landscape before he found his bearings and began to wing towards the observatory.
It was his secret place; a spot he went to decompress and handle the stress of his daily life and the small smile on his face grew calm and more natural as he swooped down and landed delicately on the small ledge that encircled the top floor. The telescope was there of course, but he preferred to be outside, where he could observe the skies in the open air.
Everything was going great, he was unwinding, decompressing...the tightness in his jaw was slowly unclenching. The knots at the base of his wings, the throb behind his eyes was ebbing away until he heard humming of all things.
To most it might have been a beautiful, melodious, even appropriate sound for the peaceful imagery before them, but to Galileo, it might as well have been nails on a chalkboard. Someone...had invaded his private thinking spot and his wings bristled in agitation. Part of him wanted to reach for one of his guns and blow the offender away, but...body disposal was not something he wanted to deal with at the moment.
Least of all by himself.
So instead, he decided for an alternative tactic. Dames were easy to frighten, especially ones that were foolish enough to go out wandering by themselves without an escort. So with a confident, if not malicious smirk, he opened his wings and glided down to the lower observation balcony where the song was coming from.
He took a pause to run his hand back through his hair to tidy it, straightening his lapels and his tie to make himself look pristine. One had to look the part when delivering a threat after all. So after a moment of preening and smoothing himself out, he squared his shoulders and made his way around the balcony to confront the intruder. Everything about him read intimidation; from the slight upward cant of his wings to make himself appear larger, to the deep disapproving scowl that etched his features.
Without trying to mask his footsteps, he moved around the corner to see a woman sitting on a folding chair with a small easel in front of her, busily capturing the twilight before her in sharp elegant sweeps of her brush. He paused for a moment, eyes flicking over the scene to take in just what was happening.
She was an unusual looking dame as far as Toons went, being one of those with a fairer grey complexion than those whose flesh was varying shades of ink black. Her face was rather elegant and gentle as she continued to put paint to canvas with deft strokes. Her hair was long, piled up into a messy bun atop her head with the tail hanging down, perhaps disheveled from her time working. Her hair actually caught his eyes for a moment, looking for all the world like the star laden sky that would soon be above them, her violet eyes flicking from the canvas back out to the horizon.
She looked serene...peaceful…
And he instantly loathed her.
This was HIS peaceful retreat, his calming place...and how dare she come in and steal his serenity for herself. He set his teeth, wings fluffing in annoyance as Galileo prepared to defend what he saw as his. “And just what exactly do you think you’re doin’? Spyin’ on me? Who do you work for hm? You might as well tell me, otherwise...things might get messy.” He said, his voice not holding back on the malice and authority as he stood next to this intruder, his arms folded over his chest.
Galileo’s glare settled onto her easily, the woman barely paused in her work as if she hadn’t noticed him...which annoyed him even MORE. Ugh. It was reasons like this he couldn’t stand dames most of the time. She turned her gaze up to him, a frown of her own etching over her lovely features as she slowly dunked her brush into a small mason jar of spirits and swirled it about. “I’ve been here for hours. It’s a public place, so I have just as much right to be here as you do.” She said, her voice prim and sharp as she returned his glare rather than cowering from it.
The constellation angel’s wings bristled again as she changed brushes and dabbed a bit of paint and continued back to her work. Ohhh now that burned him up. If there was one thing he despised, it was being disrespected. No matter that he was the one that had intruded on this poor woman’s private time...she had dismissed him. HIM of all people! “A public place huh? I can change that with just a phone call.” Galileo’s voice was tense with the threat as he stared down at her. “Then I’ll have th’ cops come and throw you out of here.”
A light scoff of laughter filled the air and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow and an almost amused expression. “Well you haven’t made that phone call yet, and it takes police at least a half hour to get out this way, so until then, I’ll remain right here finishing my landscape thank you very much.” She replied tersely, looking up at him with a stern look of dislike.
Again...dismissal…
He snarled, moving forward threateningly his wings flaring even wider. “That’s a pretty smart mouth for a pretty dumb broad. Don’t you even know who I -AM-?!” Galileo exclaimed, his wings shaking slightly in his fury as his hand twitched, eager to shove into the side of his jacket and pull out one of his pistols.
Galileo waited for to her reply, for her to recognize just who he was and to beg for his forgiveness and scramble to leave...but instead, she shifted her pallet and grabbed a painter’s knife, gathering some paint on it to put on some shadows and highlights as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the moon to light the pair.
The starry haired toonette huffed and looked to him with annoyance, blowing a strand of her ethereal hair out of her face. “A very loud, very rude man who is ruining a perfectly good view?” She replied sharply and Galileo was, for lack of a better word, stunned by her sheer audacity.
His jaw dropped for a moment before he snapped it shut with a click, his anger finally shoving past the restraints he had on it with that final quip. His hand reached into his jacket, pulling one of his pistols, the hammer cocking back as he lunged. One hand grasped her shoulder with a bruising tight hold as the other pressed his pistol tight to the base of her neck. “No. I’m the man whose evenin’ you ruined and who’ll be the last one to see your pretty face before I cover that canvas with the inside of your skull.” Galileo all but snarled.
The woman had taken a sharp inhale and froze under his hand, a malicious grin from him as he had finally managed to garner a proper reaction from this intrusive woman. What he didn’t expect though, was what came next.
Instead of the usual tears, begging and pleading for her life, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin to stare at the rapidly fading twilight. She wore a brave face, even though he could feel the quiver of her shoulder, read the tremble of her bottom lip before she tightened her jaw, those violet eyes steeling as she seemed to wait. She wasn’t going to beg, she wasn’t going to prostrate herself before him in a desperate attempt to save her own life...no...she stood before him unwilling to give a single step to someone like him and that to him, was...well..rather intriguing he had to admit. He had given this treatment to full grown men twice his size and all they could do was blubber and beg and piss him off.
But not her.
This elegant, delicate woman stood her ground before him and that was perhaps enough to save her life. His wings shifted as they stood there in a deadlock, the wind whistling through the valley and ruffling his feathers and coat lightly. It seemed like an eternity before the sound of the hammer being released echoed through the air, along with a small breath from the woman. “Heh. You’ve got moxie...I’ll give ya that.” Galileo huffed as he pulled back, uncaring as she winced and rubbed her shoulder from where he had left a bruise from his grip.
She cut her eyes back to him with a huff. “I’m not going to apologize for being somewhere that I have every right to be in...not to you...not to anyone.” She replied lightly and Galileo almost laughed. Even when he had spared her life, instead of groveling at his feet in gratitude, she quickly made sure that he knew that she saw herself in the right.
Tch, dames. Who could understand ‘em?
He huffed as he tucked his gun away. “Hmf, you should be thankful I decided that I needed t’save this bullet for someone more important.” Galileo give her a sour look then before he turned away, glancing up at the sky as the night finally settled in and laid its stars out for all to see. This was a bust, he might as well go home and train for a while to blow off some steam.
“Don’t come here again.” He said, a simple warning before he smirked and flared his wings, giving the hardest downflap he could as he took off, relishing in the clattering of the painting and easel as well as the stream of angry words that chased him into the sky...along with a jar of paint thinner.
A slight glance back and he saw her there, on her feet, her pretty face twisted in her fury as she glared after him. Ahh….sweet revenge. Galileo couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as he began to wing his way towards home, pondering on how to get rid of this last bit of pent up aggression.
He hoped Damien was ready for an ass kicking, because he was getting one whether he liked it or not.
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