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tiabritana · 17 days

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Hob Can’t Handle The Club Right Now (isn’t that how the song goes?…)

Hob stumbles feeling a wave of dizziness come over him. He can’t remember where or when his colleagues wandered off to or where he left his keys or his coat. At this point he feels like that might be for the best as he’s absolutely boiling under the black lights of the club. The perspiration slides down his forehead into his eyes. He raises his hand, revealing a sweat-soaked circle under his arm, to his face to wipe it away. He can’t remember how long he’s been here for, but he has the niggling feeling he needs to get out soon.

The immortal sighs and looks around, searching for the bar to hopefully find some water to help his parched throat. Turning his head to the right he stops and blinks the sudden lightheadedness away. He thinks the heat might be effecting more than he thought. His gaze finally lands on a figure no one else seems to be able to see; jumping up and down on top of the bar counter and waving at him.

Hob wades unsteadily through the crowd, slowly making his way over in a daze, careful to keep his eyes locked onto her form in case she disappears. When he finally stops in front of the bar, Delirium jumps down, and stumbles slightly. Hob reaches out to steady her and distantly notes his reflexes aren’t as sharp as they usually are. She beams back at him, but her eyebrows crinkle a little a second later.

He scans her over and notes everything about her, from her wild curls, to the paint smeared all over her body, to the neon fishnets she wears, shining luminously under the black light hypnotizing him for a moment. He startles out of his hazy thoughts when Delirium cocks her head to the side almost bird like, similar to Dream, the wrinkling between her eyes becoming more pronounced the longer she stares at him. The immortal comes to the belated realization that she must’ve been talking to him, and shakes his head trying to clear the fog that has started taking over his mind.

“What?” He shouts over the music. He feels the bass beat in time to his own heart. The moving bodies around him feel suffocating all of a sudden. The way they brush against him is setting off his fight or flight instincts though he’s not sure why. He doesn’t remember having had that much to drink.

His wife’s hand on his arm brings everything to a halt. The haze clouding his mind is instantly cleared and he can make out the worry in the Endless’ mismatched gaze.

“Come on.” She says, leading him through the throng of dance club goers. Hob does his best to keep up with her, eager to escape the sudden claustrophobic feeling that’s been building up inside of him, but seems to have gone away at the first touch of Delirium’s hold on him leaving him feeling out of sorts.

She leads him to a side door and pushes it open with the hand not holding his arm. The immortal sags into the cool night air, leaning against the brick of the building as he regains his equilibrium. The Endless leans against the wall next to him, hand still on his arm, though now she’s drawing soothing shapes; colorful splashes appearing where her fingers trace.

“What the hell just happened Del?” Hob asks as he takes deep breaths. The rubbish bins off to the side sours the air just a bit, but still makes him feel better than he did in the muggy atmosphere of the club. He shivers a little as the night air cools down his clammy skin and feels the adrenaline starting to leave his system.

“Someone wanted you to experience wonderland without any white rabbits to show you the way.” She says as she places his coat around his shoulders.

Used to reality bending to this particular Endless’ whims, Hob shrugs on the coat, hearing his keys jingle inside one of his pockets. As he looks closer he notices the inside of the lining has changed colors and has been given an intricate embroidered design that he can’t quite make out in the dim alleyway light, before the meaning behind his wife’s words finally untangle in his brain enough causing him to freeze.

“What?” He asks again, eyes going wide as he turns to look at her. Her form has shifted into something he’s never seen before. The neons and paint and fishnets are replaced with a solid red color scheme. Close cropped red curls grace her head down to a red glittered army coat to red ripped jeans and red combat boots on her normally bare feet. She looks to be in that moment the living embodiment of the horsemen of war; or what he pictures Destruction might look like if he was punk and hadn’t abdicated his function. A dark curl of arousal unfurls low in his belly that he hurriedly shoves to the side. ‘Now is not the time.’ He mentally scolds himself.

The first thing Hob notices when he collects himself and she turns to look at him is that besides the change in Delirium’s appearance, she also looks older than she normally prefers. Late twenties if he had to guess. The second thing he notices is her eye color is going from green to red to blue and silver to fast for his human brain to process before settling on blue. Matching blue. The madness no longer present under her suddenly unsettling clear gaze.

Hob’s struck with a thought he rarely likes to dwell on. He knows his loves are all powerful personified concepts in unassuming human guises most of the time. And he’s grown rather fond of their inhuman traits when they present themselves, that it doesn’t really faze him anymore. But the one who shape-shifts when something goes wrong is usually Dream, and Hob has gotten used to that eldritch horror as the years passed that he finds it a comfort that his husband trust him enough to allow his otherness to be seen by him. Delirium on the other hand, is always shifting into a kaleidoscope of clothes and colors that the solid look she has on now along with the pair of blue irises in her eyes really hits home that she’s angry. And Hob’s starting to realize that that is far scarier than the nightmare Dream turns into is.

“The co-worker you tell us stories about all the time switched your drink with the nice lady who tries to figure out how many partners you have after the man in the purple shirt slipped something into it.” Her voice when she finally speaks is clear, no longer sounding like it’s on the edge of madness, but is holding back suppressed rage and is solidly bound in the here and now. Hob takes one last deep breath, no longer trying to clear the fog in his mind, but now trying to wrap his head around the fact that one of his colleagues gave him a spiked drink. Nausea claws up the back of his throat as he recalls how he’s been feeling the past while before he chanced upon his wife.

Did Martha think he knew, and knew not to drink it? Did they intentionally let him drink it? Did they purposely leave him at the table by himself? The questions buzz around his mind. The last half hour or so are still blurry. On one hand he’s glad Addie didn’t drink the laced alcohol, but the fact he did causes a sinking feeling in his gut. The immortal swallows thickly forcing the nausea back down.

He’s been around long enough to know the darker sides of humanity. His own past surges to the front of his mind for a second before he shoves the memories away. He knows the other professor doesn’t like him, and as Del mentioned he often regales his spouses with Martha stories. But he doesn’t want to think they could have purposefully orchestrated this to happen.

He straightens from his slouch and reaches out to touch the Endless’s hand. She’s still staring at him with a much to clear gaze, and he knows it must be excruciating for her. The immortal remembers Delirium telling him once that she could pull herself together enough to be coherent and for lack of a better word ‘sane’, but it came at the cost of great pain. The immortal didn’t want her to hurt herself unnecessarily for his sake. “Del, love, I’m okay now.” He gently squeezes her hand.

“But if I weren’t here you wouldn’t have been. And who knows what could have happened. I don't want you to leave like Dreamy almost did.” Her pained voice whispers the last part causing his heart to pang sharply.

Hob steps further into Delirium’s space and reaches for her other hand, grasping both in his own. He leans forward letting his forehead rest on hers realizing now what she has done for him. His wife’s function rules over madness yes, but on the flip side she also rules over sanity. She must have absorbed the drugs that were in his system. He opens his mouth to say something before he’s interrupted by the door slamming open.

A figure emerges from the shadow of the door wearing a leopard print skirt, brogues, turtleneck and blazer dangling over one shoulder. They straighten when they spot Hob and Del and takes in the intimate scene, a sneer quickly darting over their face before it smooths out.

“Isn’t she a bit too young for you Gadling?” They asks, faux concern dripping with the question. The infamous Martha.

‘We’ll speak of the devil and they will appear.’ Hob mentally tells himself. “Martha.” He greets as he straightens back up, though he doesn’t release his wife’s hands. He’s not sure he wants to get into it with his co-worker in the middle of an alleyway behind a club. Regardless if she knowingly or unknowingly tried drugging him.

Martha steps out into the light of the alleyway and lets the door slam close. The noise and music once again muffled behind thick steel. They open their mouth, probably to say another scathing comment before their jaw clicks shut with an audible sound, their eyes widening. Hob looks back down to see what caused that reaction. Delirium has drawn herself up to her full height and locks eyes onto his co-worker. The overwhelming aura surrounding her like a shroud of madness makes the hair on his arms stand up and the arousal he fought down to come crashing back. “Del-,” he tries before he’s cut off.

“Martha Jane Evans, born March 18, 1987, they/them pronouns, suffers from schizophrenia and was institutionalized for most of their childhood. Released in their late teens after showing signs of successful treatment. Highly knowledgeable in linguistics and can speak thirteen languages, but keeps mostly to themselves and lacks any real passion for life and teaching. Only accepting a university professor job to please their parents. Jealous and envious of Hob Gadling once he started working in the History department. The delusions started becoming more volatile so you decided to quit taking your medications, also blaming this on Hob. Your mental health has taken a swan dive, but instead of seeking help you delved deeper into the madness and decided everything wrong in your life right now is also Hob’s fault. You tell you if only he didn’t come, none of this would have happened. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t see how you’ve been wasting your life, letting it listlessly float on by while watching Hob living his to the fullest. So you came up with this idea to have a get together at this club, paid the man in purple to slip something into Hob’s drink and panicked with it was placed into the wrong one” Delirium’s words starts rushing together, gaining in speed. The coherency she has kept together for Hob’s sake cracks. Madness spiraling back into her speech as her form vibrates. Butterflies and fish pop into existence around her, swirling in colors to fast for him to name.

She releases herself from Hob’s hold and takes a step towards Martha, her form changing. Changing into how Martha perceives her in this moment after the revelation about them is spilled into the silent night. Her image shifting into two dimensional, abstract, shades of blacks shrouding her in shadows that blend into the darkness around them. The sight hurts his eyes, his rational human brain not able to perceive this level of insanity. His heart twist, and it becomes harder to look at his wife.

The world around them starts being affected. The sides of the building is melting, the ground starts growing fur. He’s not used to seeing her like this. Not in control and slipping further into her realm than he’s ever seen. Becoming a swirling vortex of angry insanity.

Martha turns, one hand clawing desperately to open the door, but his wife is faster. She instantly appears in front of them, hand outstretched and grasping her forearm. “Love.” Hob’s voice is calm as he too reaches out. His reflexes back to normal now that the drugs are gone. His hand catches hers other one again and she turns and levels him with the weight of her mad stare. Her eyes back to their mismatched hue.

“She. Hurt. You.” Comes the garbled speech. More creatures are popping into existence, mixing together forming shapes of creatures he’s never seen before.

“I know love, I know. But you need to calm down. I don’t want you hurting yourself further.” The immortal doesn’t bother sparing a glance at the shivering mess his colleague has become. Just keeps his focus on his distraught wife. He gathers her in his arms forcing the Endless to let go of the other professor. Her form shifting again, becoming more familiar as it’s wrapped in her usual prism of technicolor and mesh.

The storm around them seems to settle and reality rights itself as Delirium snuggles further into his embrace and tucks her head under Hob’s chin. He can feel wetness on his neck and feels himself struggle to get his own emotions under control. Taking a deep breath and silently counting to ten he releases it and finally lets himself look over to the door where the other professor once stood.

They’re on the ground now, rocking back and forth and their eyes stare into the darkness of the alleyway. Flinching as they see things he can’t. It seems like the crux of the storm latched onto them when Delirium lost control, madness seeking out madness.

He sighs and closes his eyes letting his forehead rest on the top of his wife’s unruly head. The Endless has stopped shaking by now. The immortal doesn’t know how long they stand like that, being soothed by each other’s presence, when the peace is shattered for a second time that night.

Addie sticks her head out, bass bumping music shattering the fragile quiet. “Oh, there you are Prof, I was wondering where you’ve gone off to.” She pauses as she takes in the scene she’s walked into. Glancing down she notices the other professor still rocking back and forth on the ground, tears are now streaming down their face and they have started to mumble incoherently. Addie looks back up raising a judgy eyebrow at the immortal who can do nothing but shrug as best he can while his arms are still wrapped around the figure of his wife.

“Another one of those mysterious spouses of yours or are you babysitting their kid sister?” Her dry tone asks. Looking down Hob notices Addie’s perception has altered Delirium’s age. Her appearance now taking on the indefinite age of maybe late teenager-early 20’s. Yelping he jerks away as the Endless blinks up at him.

“Oops!” His wife shrugs, before deciding to climb onto his back and hanging from him like a baby monkey. Hob sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

“Del, Addie- Addie, one of my wives, Delirium.” Said wife waves from her place on his back.

The immortal was hoping he could avoid this conversation, but looks like his luck has run out. He hesitantly looks back into the darkness to see if Despair is lingering close by. “Come on, this conversation is long overdue. But first, be a peach and call 999 for Martha over there. I’ve a feeling they’ll gonna need to be readmitted.”

#hob gadling #the sandman #hobsbandverse #hob 'husband of the endless' gadling #delirium of the endless #mentioned dream of the endless #mentioned death of the endless #mentioned despair of the endless #netflix sandman

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