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scifrey · 11 months

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Hold Tight (5/6)

Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.

Series: The Hob Adherent series.

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.

Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Past Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past), Hector Hall/Lyta Hall (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker

Summary:

Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.

Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Chapter Five

Hob saw the punch telegraphed from a mile away, and could have stopped it. He just assumed that Morpheus would stop it himself, and his intervention wouldn’t be necessary.

More fool Hob.

Morpheus tips backwards in surprise, landing hard on his arse on the ground, shock and pain warring on his aristocratic face. Hob holds out a hand to him and Morpheus bats it away, mortified.

Fine, stay on the ground then, Hob thinks genially, amused by his lover’s tantrum.

“Whatever you think he did to deserve that,” Hob says, turning to face the furious woman. "He probably did. Hi. We're supposed to be meeting Morpheus' niece and nephew, but you're a nice surprise."

It’s an utter lie, but Hob knows the value of sprinkling in little white ones occasionally.

"Nice to finally meet you in person, Dr. Gadlen. I'm Rose," says the young black woman with the multicoloured dreadlocks. She has leapt forward to keep her friend from kicking Morpheus in the head while he's down, otherwise Hob would offer her his hand. "That's my brother Jed."

Jed waves from where he's taken the stroller with the infant a good few paces away. The cherub with the wise green gaze watches all of the action with wide-eyed delight. Lyta Trevor-Hall bucks in her hold, and Rose makes an oof sound.

"Uh, Uncle Dream didn't say he was coming with you,” Jed says. He's looking warily between the two groups of adults, unsure whose side he wants to be on just yet.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Hob says, and wiggles his fingers in a little jazz hand shimmy. "Surprise!"

"Helluva fucking surprise," Lyta snarls.

“I elpída mou, ” Morpheus burbles, wide-eyed and betrayed from where he is splayed out in the grass. Purple-black starstuff leaks from his nose.

"Oh come on," Hob says, helping Morpheus to his feet. This time Morpheus lets him. “That was funny.”

Once Hob has dusted Morpheus off, then sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Robert Gadlen, but you can call me Hob. And you are…?” he asks, as if he didn't already know. Polite was polite, after all.

“Lyta Trevor-Hall,” she says, so shocked by his blase gregariousness that she stops struggling. With nothing else to do, she takes his hand and shakes it.

Problem solved.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lyta,” Hob says. "And you, Rose, and Jed, and young master Hall. And now that the world’s worst family reunion has begun, why don't we find somewhere to sit down and down and use our words instead of our fists.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” Lyta spits at Morpheus.

“You don’t have to,” Hob says, and crowds Morpheus down onto the nearest park bench, putting himself between his boyfriend and his attacker. "He's surprisingly terrible at polite conversation for being the Prince of Stories."

“Hob Gadling," Morpheus says, using his full-on intimidating Dream of the Endless voice, the egocentric ponce. " Do not manhandle me–”

“Just clean your face, duckie,” Hob says sternly, but he squeezes Morpheus’ shoulder affectionately, just to let him know that he’s not mad. “Let me handle this.”

"Here, Uncle Dream,” Jed Walker says. He pulls a handful of napkins from his jacket pocket, and Morpheus takes them grumpily, and dabs at his face.

“You know what he is?” Lyta hisses at Hob. Her voice is quivering as lifts the baby in the stroller onto her hip, pressing him close against her heart. “What he did to me?”

Hob glances over his shoulder to see how Morpheus will react to that, but he’s just glaring back at the woman, face once more impassive and imperious.

“Yes. I know who and what he is." Hob tucks his hands into his pockets, rounds his shoulders, does his best to look like a harmless, non-toxic professor in a nebbish jumper. "And I’m going to go out on a limb and say it has something to do with…” he looks meaningfully, politely, at the child.

“He murdered my husband!” Lyta grinds out between clenched teeth, fury in every syllable, in the mottled flush of her face, in the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

“I did not,” Morpheus says gravely.

Rose squeezes Lyta’s shoulder comfortingly, “Lyta, honey, Hector was already dead. We’ve been over this.”

“I only returned him to where he belonged.”

“You killed him,” Lyta sobs. “You could have saved him!”

At this, Morpheus does look chagrined. “I could not,” he says gently, earnestly. “No more than Rose Walker could, as a Dream Vortex. The granting of life when there was none is not within the timae of my power.”

“Hector was just a dream,” Rose says gently, leading Lyta to the bench set slightly apart from Morpheus and Hob's. “And that doesn’t make it any less real, but he couldn’t have crossed through to the Waking. I’m so sorry.”

Hob shivers, thinking of Death, and Time, and how he has clearly been luckier than this Hector Hall, whoever he was.

Jed pulls over the stroller and sits too, so the Walkers are bracketing the Halls protectively. Hob hopes that Jed hasn’t just given Lyta access to a projectile weapon. Though, he’s reasonably sure he can catch a rattle or a diaper bag before it hits either him, or his boyfriend in the head. Maybe.

“He was real, and our baby is too!” Lyta sniffs hard, unappeased and uncaring that people around them are starting to stare. “And then, do you know what that monster tells me? He says he has a right to my son, that he has a claim to him, and you expect me to just sit here and play nice when-w-when–”

"When your son is the heir,” Hob finishes gently.

Lyta stumbles to a stop, gawping at Hob. “The what? The heir to what?"

Wait, Hob thinks, catching up. Wait a minute. I thought I was the only one out of the loop but… oh my god, the tight-lipped bastard! "You didn't tell her, Morpheus?"

"What did he tell you, because he–”

“Okay, okay,” Hob says, “I think we all need to just take a breath and–”

“Is it now?” Lyta interrupts. "He threatened to come back and take my child away from me. Is that why you’re here? Well you can pry Daniel out of my cold, dead–"

“He what,” Hob says, rounding on Morpheus. “You actually said that to her?”

“My precise wording may have been–”

“You unbelievable twat!” Hob pushes away from Morpheus. He stands, fury zinging through his veins, and fists his hands on his hips or he might be tempted to punch Morpheus in the nose himself.

Morpheus immediately looks contrite. “Hob–”

“Nuh-uh, don’t you try to sweet talk me, you dickhead," Hob says. " How could you say that to her? After the whole spiel you gave me about not being able to unmake the kid, and us being the fathers of dead sons, and you… you just said that? Have you even heard of the soft approach?”

“The child is largely dreamstuff, erasti," Morpheus protests. "Without the intervention of the Endless, the child will not survive in the Waking–”

“My baby is going to die?” Lyta howls.

"Enough!" Hob snarls, and feels like seven kinds of asshole when Lyta flinches back, covering the baby's head with her hand. Daniel wails, finally picking up on the tense atmosphere, and Jed immediately leans around Lyta's arm to try to soothe him. "Enough," Hob repeats gently. "I think we all need a moment to reset, and move this conversation somewhere less public."

"My apartment is just on the other side of the park," Rose says. "If Uncle Dream can—"

"Hold the image of your home in your mind, Rose Walker," Morpheus offers, a little too eagerly, and in a swirl of sand, suddenly they're all in a cozy, well-appointed living room.

Lyta looks like she's about to be sick, and Jed immediately takes the baby from her and retreats into a bedroom that’s visible beyond an open-shelf divider. The child starts crying as soon as he's separated from his mother, fat tears rolling down fat cheeks, little frightened howls piercing Hob straight through the heart.

Lyta gags and coughs. Rose urges her towards the bathroom, but Lyta won't go.

Instead she puts her body in the doorway, between the two young fellows and Hob.

"Don't you… don't you dare use that shit on me ever again, don't you—" she says instead, hunched and advancing on Morpheus.

"I apologize," Morpheus says immediately, backing away from Lyta and her shaking, pointing finger. " I am… I am at a loss what… Hob? I do not understand the rancor with which—"

"You don't understand it?" Hob asks him, aghast. "You remember what it’s like to be a father, I know you do."

“I did not mean—of course I remember, that is why I—I want to protect the child!”

“That’s not what it sounds like!”

"Daniel Hall is made of the Dreaming, please understand," Morpheus says, pleading and desperation in his voice in a way that Hob's never heard before. "He is as much my blood as Rose and Jed. I could no more harm him than slit my own throat. He is a part of me."

"Harm him, no, but you'll steal him away like a… a Goblin King!" Lyta screams.

Morpheus rears back and pauses, tilting his head to the side as he accesses his mental rolodex of pop-culture references. When he finds it, his expression sours, his nose wrinkling up. "I do not maintain a Bog of Eternal Stench."

The extent of his affronted horror is enough to make Lyta burst into hysterical laughter.

Rose and Jed follow soon after, their humour more genuine, and soon Hob is dragged into it, the punchy cackling contagious. Only Morpheus doesn't laugh, crossing his arms and retreating to a corner of the kitchen to sulk.

And just like that, the terrible tension is broken. The laughter dissipates. They're all left staring warily at one another, while Daniel sniffs and whines, and generally makes his displeasure with the world known.

"Okay, I'm making some tea," Rose says. "Do you drink tea, Uncle Dream?"

"No."

"Yes, he does," Hob says, chivying Morpheus into one of the seats around the kitchen table. "And he takes it with as much sugar as will dissolve in it."

"Ew," Jed says, handing Daniel over to his mother, before coming to sit beside Morpheus. "You'll get cavities."

"I do not have teeth."

Jed laughs again, like this is the funniest thing he has ever heard in his life. He leans against Morpheus' shoulder, and instead of pushing the boy back, Morpheus instead lifts his arms and allows Jed to tuck into his side. He runs a protective palm down Jed's arm, and Hob feels all the anger inside him melt away.

It is very telling that Jed sees Morpheus as a safe harbor.

Daniel quiets down, watching Morpheus from over his mother's arms, snot-nosed and flushed with tears, misery entirely forgotten. The quiet stretches out, only the burble of the water in the kettle slowly coming to a boil to interrupt it.

Lyta hesitates for a moment, then turns her eyes to Jed, clearly thinking the same as Hob and assessing Jed's comfort with the creature she has until now only seen as a threat. She sits at the table, though she perches on the edge of her chair, ready to bolt at any moment.

"Are you really a father?" she whispers, smoothing Daniel's curls up off his sweaty neck.

Morpheus meets her solemn gaze with his own. "I was. He died. I begged my siblings to spare him his fate, but they would not." Something in his aloof expression cracks, and a bit of the pain and self recrimination shows through. "No, I must be fair to them and their Functions. They could not. I knew this, but I could not accept it."

Hob sits now himself, wanting to take Morpheus' hand, to comfort him. But his lover is proud, and may not want to show that side of himself before these people. Hob will let Morpheus reach for him, if he's wanted.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Lyta says, and sounds like she means it.

Morpheus pauses to choose his next words carefully. "The pain I suffered was so great that I hardened my heart against all love thereafter. I abandoned his mother to the burden of her own grief alone, and eventually she—rightly—left me. I neglected my creations and my realm—they suffered. And in my arrogance and pain, I shunned and abused my siblings, until in their aggrieved resentment, they sought to harm me in return." Here he squeezes Jed close, and turns an apologetic look to Rose, the living and innocent result of those schemes. "And in my pride, I would not ask them for help when I needed it most. As a result, was not here to manage the Vortex, and young master Daniel is the culmination of those errors. Though I cannot regret his existence, for I am very pleased and esteem him dearly, I regret that your pain was the price of my hubris." Morpheus meets Hob's eyes meaningfully, and they both know he's talking about the Burgesses. Then he turns his eyes to the woman across from him, and her son. " And for that, I apologize.”

Lyta listens to his apology thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip as the kettle clicks off. Rose fills a teapot on the counter. Hob helps her ferry mugs, milk, and sugar to the table, and is acutely reminded of the first night he and Morpheus bared their souls to one another.

"What happened to him?" Rose asks, when they've each doctored their tea to their liking. "Your son, I mean. If you don't mind talking about it."

"You already know what happened to him, Rose Walker," Morpheus says sadly. "His name was Orpheus."

Lyta gasps, and clutches Daniel closer. Rose covers her mouth with a startled oh, and Jed looks around and clocks that now isn't the best time to ask for clarification. Daniel fusses, pushing back so he's not smothered in Lyta's chest, and surprises them all by reaching across the table for Morpheus.

"No, little one, " Morpheus tells the babe. "I am as eager to strengthen our bond as you, but your mother is in greater need of your comfort than I."

Lyta gasps in surprise, eye bouncing between Daniel and Morpheus. “You.. you’re talking with him?”

"Of course you speak baby," Hob says, feeling a smirk pulling against his cheeks. He hides it in his mug.

“He sleeps, and when he sleeps, just as you do, he dreams. He spends much of his time in my throne room. As such, we converse often,” Morpheus tells her. Daniel babbles something angry and huffy sounding, and Morpheus chuckles. "Come now, that is hardly a kingly turn of phrase."

Lyta stares down at Daniel in shock, and no little amount of growing hurt. "Did he insult me?"

"Quite the opposite," Morpheus assures her. "He was being very complimentary to you, but quite demanding of me. Imperious little Prince."

"Prince," Lyta says slowly, then drags her eyes up to Hob. "You called him 'the heir', too. What does it mean?"

"Very broadly speaking, " Morpheus says, before Hob can try to answer. " I am all dreams, and all dreams are me. Everything you see in the Dreaming, everything you experience and taste and touch, it is made of my essence, my dreamstuff."

"Even Hector?" Lyta asks, catching on quickly.

"Even Hector, " Morpheus agrees. "His soul was his own, pulled from the Sunless Lands by Rose's power, and your yearning. But his body was dreamstuff. So, when he lay with you…" Morpheus trails off uncomfortably, gazing over at Jed.

"I know how babies are made, Uncle Dream," the boy huffs. "I'm not a little kid."

"Quite, my heroic Sandman," Morpheus agrees. "And so while Daniel is human, he is also of the Dreaming. He is, in the most base way of understanding… my son. And therefore heir to the Dreaming."

"No," Lyta says immediately. "Hector was his father. Not you."

"Okay," Hob cuts in, when it seems like Morpheus is about to protest. He already knows that this will be a losing battle before Morpheus even tries to fight it. "What about uncle, then? Is that acceptable?"

"We already call him Uncle Dream," Rose adds gently. "It makes sense for Danny to call him that too."

"What if I don't want you to have any part of his life?" Lyta challenges.

Again, Morpheus begins to puff up like an affronted pigeon, and again Hob interrupts him.

"Hey, that's her choice," Hob tells Morpheus. "And we'll respect it, won't we?"

He doesn't add that it doesn't matter if Lyta doesn't want Morpheus in Daniel's life; she can't police her son's sleeping hours. That seems a needlessly cruel thing to point out, and a surefire way to get Lyta to issue an ultimatum. Better to talk her around to them, than to throw down a gauntlet.

"And what are you in all of this?" Lyta asks, "Speaking for him?"

"Oh me?" Hob laughs, tugging on his earlobe. "I'm nobody important. I'm just the one who communicates with humans on his behalf because he’s a bit rubbish at it, sometimes. I’m just the boyfriend, aren't I, duckie?"

Morpheus scowls at him. "You are not 'nobody'. You are my hope."

"Hope?" Lyta echoes, confused.

Rose's expression dawns into understanding and warm delight. " Oooohhh, I get it! Like Hopes and Dreams. Are you Endless, too?"

"No," Hob says quickly. "It's just one of his nicknames for me."

"So you're human, like us?" Lyta asks, intrigued.

"Human, yes," Hob allows, tugging on his ear again. He hates admitting this, especially since she's lost her husband, and it might come as a slap in the face to know that there are ways to grant people everlasting life. "Like you, no. Not for, eugh, six and a half centuries or so."

"Wow," Jed says. "You've been dating for six and half centuries and you're still just the boyfriend? Uncle Dream! When you gonna put a ring on it?"

"Jeddy!" Rose hisses, but behind her mock ire she's amused.

"To be fair, we've only been dating for a little under a year," Hob clarifies.

"I do not need to debase our relationship by 'putting a ring on it' to keep Hob by my side. Our affinity transcends human rituals and vows."

"Oh, it does, does it?" Hob asks with an arched eyebrow, choosing not to be upset because he knows there's no point in it. "You're lucky I love you."

"I have offended you," Morpheus points out hastily. He's getting faster at recognizing when he does it, at least. "How have I offended you, agápi mou?"

"You intimated that you don't need to marry me because I'm a sure thing."

Morpheus' eyebrows draw downward in confusion. "But you are a sure thing, Hob Gadling. Or are you not sure in your affection for me? If this is true, you must tell me so—"

"No, no, duckie, I'm fine. I love you," Hob reassures him, twining the fingers of Morpheus' closest hand in his own, and lifting it to kiss the knuckles. "You're stuck with me."

"Okay, I… I see it now," Lyta admits, looking back and forth between him. "He is a terrible communicator." She pets Daniel's hair again, looking down at her son. "So when you said 'claim' my baby, you really meant… that you just want be a part of his life?"

Daniel looks up at his mother and babbles something very serious, and very meaningful. Then he looks over to Morpheus to translate.

"An excellent compromise, " Morpheus concedes. "You shall be Daniel in the Waking, my protege in the Dreaming, and when the time comes for you to step into your Function, I will continue to act as your mentor in my own mortal sleeping hours."

"So… my baby won't be taken away?" Lyta asks.

"No, " Morpheus says. "He wishes to remain your child, and to grow up as mortal children do. This way, when he shepherds the humanity's Dreaming, he can do so with a fuller understanding of what it means to be human. It is a very wise suggestion. I was never human. I came into being as a fully formed adult, and as a result, I have had to turn to others to guide me through the human experience."

Now it's his turn to kiss the back of Hob's hand.

Lyta's shoulders slowly lower, and she finally relaxes into her chair. "This being two different people at the same time, it won't harm him?"

"No."

"And him being the… the culmination of all Dreams, that won't hurt him either?"

"No."

"And what about him here, the… the human Daniel. Will he be safe?"

Morpheus hesitates, and Hob could kick him, because it makes Lyta tense up again.

"Listen, Lyta, he'll be fine. I promise," Hob says seriously. "He'll have the anthropomorphic personification of Nightmares watching over him, and for anything that gets past Morpheus, there's me. I literally cannot be killed, and believe me, a lot of people have tried in a lot of very creative ways. I promise you, with every breath in my body I will protect Daniel."

"There, see?" Jed says to Daniel. "Uncle Dream and Uncle Hob won't let anything bad happen to you, Danny."

Hob lets loose a startled laugh. "Well, I'm only his uncle if it's through marriage. And as we’ve established…" He lifts his left hand and does the Beyoncé flip.

"Then through marriage it must be," Morpheus says regally, with a firm nod.

It's the kind of nod he uses when he's struck a bargain. Morpheus lifts his hand, palm up, and plucks a golden ring out of the air. It's lustrous and heavy, with a cushion-cut ruby embedded in the band itself.

"I'm sorry," Hob chuckles, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline in surprise. "Is this you proposing?"

"Yes? " Morpheus says, confusion crawling over his face again. "Does the ring not make that clear, Hob?"

"Oh my god," Lyta laughs, and it is free and genuine for the first time. "You really are bad at communicating, aren't you!"

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immabethehero · 1 year

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Encanto Day 30 - Milk

OK so context: my friend Breanna loves three things: milk, Encanto and The Sandman. So I decided to write a behemoth of a crossover.

This is both a modern au of Encanto and a sequel to this story I wrote back in the summer.

Shoutout to @doitforstamets and stargrazing on Discord for helping me write this.

Happy Birthday @breannasfluff! I hope you like this!

~~~~~~

“So… we meet again.” Bruno stares at the bottom of his suitcase, his expression weary. It has been sixteen years. Sixteen years of non-cow-costume-wearing bliss. And yet, here he is, pulling out the outfit once more, like a retired clown applying his makeup.

It’s not that Bruno doesn't enjoy dressing up and playing pretend, hey, his real Gift is acting! It’s this costume in particular he doesn’t enjoy.

At least he won’t suffer alone this time.

In the dining area of the hotel, Pepa has gathered her children and nieces to watch the infamous video of Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess. Every single one of them is in hysterics as they watch Bruno stumble in his little heels, ball gown flouncing around him. Bruno rolls his eyes.

“I’m glad you sadists are finding pleasure in my pain,” he says loudly as he joins them at their table.

“Turn the clip off, I can't breathe!” Mirabel gasps between wheezes.

“It’s even better than I remember!” Isabela howls.

“Mom, why didn’t you give birth to me sooner? I wish I had been in the area when this happened!” Camilo snorts.

“Honestly, Milo, I’m surprised I didn’t give birth right then and there, I was laughing so hard,” Pepa admits, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Funny,” Bruno snaps. He dumps the costume on the table. “Here it is, kids: the worst out-of-context vision I ever had.”

His sobrinos immediately crowd around the table, marvelling and snickering at Brumilkerbell’s get-up.

“It’s even bigger than I remember,” Dolores remarks.

“There’s the seven foot frame you wanted, Camilo,” Mirabel says.

Camilo is laughing too hard to respond.

“So why are we doing this again?” Agustín asks.

“Because my friend in the online writing club I’m in needs some help, and I’m the only person in the whole group who can supply her with what she needs,” Bruno explains. “Her ex-boyfriend’s niece’s friend’s son is having his fourth birthday party and apparently this year he wants it cow themed.”

“That’s a lot of different acquaintances,” Julieta remarks.

“That’s just how her friend group works,” Bruno says. “Her ‘found family’ has gotten pretty big since she last checked.”

Alma checks her pocket watch. “It’s 12 pm, we should get going. Boys, do you have your…?”

Agustín and Félix hold up their own cow costumes, one a police officer and the other a construction worker. Bruno smiles gratefully at the two. As stated previously, at least he won’t suffer alone this time.

A man with long brown hair is waiting for them outside the New Inn. He waves happily when he sees Bruno carrying the bags of costumes.

“Hi! You must be Bruno! I’m Hob Gadling, I’m a friend of Calliope’s.” Hob’s bright smile and sweet voice win the Madrigals over easily. When Bruno shakes his hand, he is surprised by Hob’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Your hands are warm,” Bruno notes. He winces at his own rudeness. Hob laughs.

“You’re the first to ever say that about my hands,” he says. “I assume that’s a compliment?”

Bruno nods, face red. “Yeah.”

“Calliope and Murphy are waiting inside with the birthday crew. Thankfully, only a few kids are coming so you won’t be overwhelmed!” Hob continues as he leads the family inside. He suddenly notices how many Madrigals there are.

“Uh… are they all coming in?” he asks.

Bruno glances at his family and turns back to Hob, smiling. “Is that ok with you? They, uh, want to see the performance.”

“That good of an entertainer, huh?” Hob says. “Alright, I guess Lyta won’t mind. She’s the mother of the birthday boy.”

Hob takes the Madrigals through the inn and into a big room with a small stage, where the party has already begun. A group of seven kids do arts and crafts at a long table, while the adults mingle.

True to Bruno’s words, the entire room looks like a cow’s hide. White balloons with black spots and black balloons with white spots are hung up in every corner. The table cloths and streamers have a similar pattern. A large banner reading “Happy 4th Birthday Daniel!” is hung up by the small stage, two cartoon cows drawn on either side. Even the cake is shaped like a cow.

A woman with lovely chestnut hair approaches Hob as the group enters. Clinging to her leg is a small boy with blond hair.

“Hob!” The woman’s smile fades when she notices everyone. “Who are they and why are they all here? They weren’t on the guest list!”

“It’s ok, Lyta, they’re with me!” another woman says, running up to him. Bruno recognizes her Greek accent immediately. “Hello, Bruno. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

Upon seeing her warm smile and lovely dark hair, Bruno relaxes. “Hola, Calliope. It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well.”

“This is Lyta Hall, she’s running the party. And this is Daniel, our birthday boy,” Hob introduces. While Lyta waves, Daniel ducks his head.

“Lyta, this is Bruno, he’s from my online writing club!” Calliope says. “He’s the one with the crazy ‘cow’ getup I was talking about.”

“Can I see?” Lyta asks.

Bruno opens his suitcase. “Behold.”

Lyta’s eyes turn as big as saucers. “You weren’t kidding…”

“It’s going to be quite the experience,” Bruno laughs. “Agustín and Félix are dancing with me as well.” The men in question wave.

“And so are me and Dream!” Hob says. “Do you have our costumes?”

Bruno lifts up his own to show two packages underneath. Hob snorts when he sees them. “These look incredible! Dream, you have to come see this!” He turns to the corner of the room, where a man Bruno did not see before stands.

The partygoers have given him a large space to himself, wary of the stranger. The man is shrouded in the shadows, his body hidden in a black coat. His emotionless face is pale and cold and his black hair is untamed. The oddest part about him is his eyes. A strange shade of blue that seems to shine like… stars. Bruno feels a sense of familiarity. Who is this man?

As Dream slowly approaches him, Bruno shrinks under his magnificently intimidating gaze. Dream glances down at the costumes before looking up at the prophet. Immediately his expression softens. It is a look of wonder.

Bruno ducks to hide his terrified gaze. “Right. Is there a room where we can set up?” he asks, willing his voice not to shake.

“There’s an empty space across the hall, we can get ready there!” Hob says. “Come on!”

In the other room, Bruno hands each man his costume. Agustín struggles to get the police boots on his “hooves”, Félix slips on the construction worker cow’s safety vest.

Hob is practically jumping with joy when he sees the cowboy, er, cow’s outfit. He laughs as he puts on the vest and fixes his sheriff’s badge. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this has to be one of the greatest..”

“You’ll be the Aviator, Dream,” Bruno says, handing the strange man his costume.

“‘Aviator’?” Dream asks. His surprisingly deep baritone voice rumbles through the room. Bruno feels chills run down his back.

“Because Calliope said you didn’t want to be seen doing this, so I found a costume that could hide your face?” Bruno squeaks. “The goggles should be enough, right?”

Dream takes the costume and looks it through. “Very well.”

“Why are you doing this if you don’t want to be seen?” Félix asks. “This isn’t exactly a… subtle activity.”

“Because I have a duty to fulfill,” Dream answers simply. Félix shrugs and goes back to trying to cram the hard hat on his cow’s head.

Bruno . “Alright, we have an hour to rehearse this song. I assume you all know ‘YMCA’, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Hob asks.

Bruno hands them all sheet music. “I, uh, took some creative liberties with it.”

Back in the party room, the rest of the Madrigals have already assimilated themselves into the crowd. Isabela shows off her plant magic to some of the children, Antonio colours with Daniel while telling him all sorts of cow facts (only half of which the four-year-old understands), Lyta has gotten some wine with the mothers, who shower her and Dolores with advice on how to raise a kid.

Meanwhile, Luisa, Mirabel and Camilo find new friends in two special guests, the niece and nephew of Dream.

“Rainbow hair…” Mirabel breathes, gazing in awe at Rose Walker’s dreadlocks. Rose giggles.

“Oh yeah! I’ve thought about changing it up recently, but honestly, rainbow hair is so fun!” she admits.

Mirabel turns back to her mom, pointing at Rose’s hair and back at her own. Julieta shakes her head. Mirabel pouts.

“Worth a shot,” she mumbles. Rose laughs.

Luisa watches Rose with stars in her eyes, the bookworm excited to meet a real, published author in the flesh. “How long did it take you to write your manuscript?”

“About two months, actually. I got a surge of inspiration during the last week and finished it in time to send to a publisher looking for new works,” Rose explains. “Next thing I know, I’ve got a huge paycheck and several book reviewers telling me I’m the new Neil Gaiman.”

“Fantástica!” Luisa squeals.

“Do Spiderman next!” Jed Walker exclaims. Camilo shapeshifts into the superhero, doing a backflip.

“Don’t work the kid too hard, Jed!” Rose warns.

“I won’t!” Jed responds.

“Don’t worry, I can do this all day!” Camilo says, shapeshifting into Captain America. Jed howls with laughter.

“He says that but then he’ll sleep until noon tomorrow,” Mirabel says. Rose laughs again, but it fades as she notices something strange walking onto the stage.

“What on earth is that?” she asks. Mirabel turns around and immediately begins laughing.

Camilo shapeshifts back into himself and drags Jed closer to the stage. “Oh, you’re gonna want front-row seats for this!”

Daniel is led to the front of the audience. The kids gather around him, laughing at the funny cows. In the back, Pepa and Julieta are already shrieking with laughter, taking pictures of the costumed men on their phones.

Bruno stands centre stage in his fairy cow princess, looking as marvelous as ever with the sparkling pink gown, wings and tiara. Behind him stand a police officer, a construction worker, a cowboy and an aviator, all cows. Mirabel recognizes her father and Tío Félix as the police officer and construction worker respectfully, but are those Hob and Dream, Hob’s mysterious boyfriend, as the cowboy and the aviator? Even with aviator goggles covering his eyes, Dream’s sharp, white cheekbones are quite memorable and noticeable. Not to mention, she can’t see him anywhere in the room, so…

On stage, Hob keeps glancing at Dream. While this would usually flatter the Endless, right now it’s getting on his last nerve.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Dream finally hisses.

“You look constipated, and I don’t want you to take it out on Bruno,” Hob whispers.

“I’m not going to send a nightmare after him. You don’t have to worry,” Dream says. “I’m just not looking forward to this.”

“You don’t have to do this, Dream,” Hob reminds him. “I asked several times if you wanted to back out, and every time, you’ve refused. Why?”

“Because it is my duty to visit the first baby born in the Dreaming every year on his birthday,” Dream states. “And even if that includes doing a ridiculous dance at his birthday party, so be it.”

Hob rolls his eyes. “That last part is a load of bull and you know it. Are you sure that’s why you’re doing it?”

Dream is silent.

Hob gives him a knowing smile. “You’ve grown to care for Daniel Hall and his crazy family, haven’t you? Is this about making the kid, and by extension, your new family, happy?”

Dream shrinks further into the giant cow head. Hob leans over to kiss his nose.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Bruno grabs a microphone from an amused Isabela. “Hi kids! I’m Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess of… Milkneyland, and these are my friends, the Village Cows!”

“Why do you have a beard?!” a kid in the audience yells.

“Why don’t you have a beard?!” Bruno snaps back. He takes a deep breath and smiles once more. “Today, we’re going to sing a special song all about your favourite drink! Can anyone guess what that is?”

“Wine!” Pepa yells.

“Pepa, there are kids in the audience, including your own.”

“So?!”

“So we’re going to be learning facts about an altogether different drink,” Bruno exclaims through teeth clenched. “I would like to thank Antonio Madrigal for helping me write some of the lyrics. Hit it!”

Dolores turns on the boombox. Brumilkerbell and the Village Cows begin tapping their hooves.

“Is it just me or is the tune familiar?” Julieta asks as she records.

“I’m pretty sure this is just YMCA,” Pepa says. “Did he change the lyrics?”

The cows swing their tails to the beat as the chorus kicks in.

It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K! It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K!

“Ohhhh…” the sisters say in unison.

The kids cheer for the exuberant performance, getting up and doing the dance with them. Most of the adults are laughing too hard to join, or film the performance. Daniel screams with glee as the cows swish their tails and pump their hooves in the air in an elaborate dance.

After the performance, the men sit at a table while Daniel opens his presents. Bruno has already fallen asleep, Agustín and Félix engage in a game of chinchon. Dream watches the sleeping Bruno from the side.

Hob arrives with drinks. Unlike the others, he has not taken off his cowboy cow costume. The fathers cheer until they see what’s in the wine glasses: milk.

“Oh come on, why the long faces?” Hob teases. “You heard Brumilkerbell up there, milk is chock full of vitamin B12!”

The Madrigal men glance at each other before shrugging and grabbing a glass. Félix grabs an extra for when Bruno wakes up. Hob moves onto Dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hob asks, handing the Sandman his milk.

“That family has magic,” Dream says. “That’s why they feel so different.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Magic? You’re only figuring this out now?”

“You knew?”

“I mean, Bruno Madrigal is a lyrical genius! How could I not know about his music-writing magic?!”

Dream gives his boyfriend a small smile. “Not that kind of magic, Hob. Real magic. Each of them has a small portion of magic, dedicated to one type of spell. They call them Gifts.”

Hob looks amazed. “Really? How did I not notice that?”

“I don’t think they trust us enough to show us,” Dream admits. “I’m surprised they’ve been able to hide it for so long.”

“Should we tell them we know? Does Calliope know?”

“Let’s not tell them, for now. Calliope has had her suspicions since she met Bruno. She asked me to confirm today, and Lucienne has just sent me the report.”

“Your librarian rules.”

“I know. I shall send her your compliments.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You asked.”

“Smartass.”

As the kids sleep upstairs in the inn, the grownups decide to have a little more wine to wind down for the night.

“I can’t believe my youngest son actually helped Bruno write that song,” Pepa says.

“Well, it wasn’t easy,” Bruno says. “It took the better part of a week and half a dozen Google searches.”

“How were you not sweating bullets up there? I was getting hot just looking at you,” Julieta says.

“Oh believe me, I was getting hot,” Agustín says. “You weren’t kidding, hermano, these costumes are stuffy as hell!”

“Luckily for you, this is where the fun part comes in,” Hob says, standing up. “Dolores, ma’am, where’s your boombox?!”

Mirabel stumbles downstairs, her throat parched and stomach rumbling. She should not have had that much cake. Her head pricks up slightly as she hears music and shrieking from down the hall. Curious, she walks down to investigate.

When she peers into the room, the sight is enough to wake her up. Bruno, Agustín, Félix and Hob all managed to get the clothes off the cow jumpsuits, and are currently in the middle of slowly taking off the jumpsuits themselves. Dios mio, she can see their hairy chests.

The women, her abuela included, whoop and whistle at the strippers, all clearly tipsy.

Dolores, hearing her cousin gasping in horror, pauses the music. All heads turn to the 16-year-old gaping in the doorway.

Bruno is the first to find his words. “Hey, Mariposa! What do you need?”

“I was considering getting a glass of milk, but I think I’ll hold off until I can get this image out of my mind. Buenas noches.” Mirabel awkwardly exits, wondering how this day went from YMCA parodies to strip-teasing cows.

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