#those posts that dream is having heart eyes over hob doing mundane things and no one understands except on supernatural tumblr everyone has

[delta-pavonis]

Sandman WIP: 9.1 on the Richter Scale

Anything greater that 9.0 on the Richter Scale indicates permanent changes in ground topography.

Warning: Content is post-The Wake and therefore contains comic spoilers!

All things considered, this might be the strangest moment of Hob’s long life. 

At least the setting was familiar.

Sitting at the New Inn, nursing a pint, Hob watched the person across the table from him carefully. He had agreed to meet him here—here of all places and when Hob had seen the location in the letter he had almost torn the whole thing up and burnt it—and Hob was starting to regret it. Even after a few decades the pain was very near, the wound barely healed over.

Not that the other individual seemed to have any idea what he himself was doing, either. He was acting… awkward wasn’t quite how Hob would put it, he was still the King of Dreams and Nightmares, after all. There was a certain presence that came with the position. But, as it had been explained to him, he wasn’t the same Dream that Hob had known. All vague similarities in features and presence aside, this was not Morpheus. Most definitely not. 

Dream-that-was-not-Morpheus finally broke the silence, although he didn’t look up from where his finger was tracing a whorl in the wood of the tabletop. “I am… sorry for your loss.”

Hob resisted rolling his eyes. You are the loss he wanted to growl. Or maybe Too little, too late. “Okay.” He took a gulp of his ale.

The white-haired man’s lips pressed together in a thin, flat line. Apparently that was not the answer he was looking for. He could suck it.

“So what am I supposed to call you?” Hob was not trying to come off as defensive, he really wasn’t. But there was not an inconsiderable amount of his heart that could not interpret what happened as anything other than this man taking, replacing, destroying his lover.

The smallest hint of a smile curled those familiar-yet-not pink lips. “I suppose it is too much to ask you to call me Dream.”

“You suppose right.” The other man looked startled, just for a blink, but Hob was extremely skilled at reading that marble face, even after all this time. Dammit, Hob, stop being such a petty twat. Clearly this person was trying. Hells knew why he was trying or what his goals were, but… Hob sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I am sorry.” That got the other man’s attention and blue eyes met brown for the first time that evening. “I don’t mean to be such an arse. It is just… no matter how you explain it, I know you are not him.”

Blue eyes, too bright blue, not blue-gray like they were supposed to be, watched Hob carefully for a bit, seemed to be considering something. Exactly what, Hob had no idea.

“Daniel. You can call me Daniel.” He offered, softly.

Hob couldn’t hold back the bark of a laugh at that. It was so… so… mundane. Daniel looked hurt at the laugh and wasn’t that a new expression to see on that carved face. Hob held up a placating hand. “No, sorry, I just… didn’t expect a name so… ordinary?”

At that Daniel smiled, wide and bright, something Hob had only seen on Morpheus’s face maybe a half dozen times. “Would you prefer Prince of Stories?” 

A joke? Hob snorted and couldn’t completely tamp down his own smile. “Okay… Daniel.” Directing the name at this man seemed bizarre. “So why are we here? Why do you want to talk to me? Your letter said it wasn’t urgent, but I cannot fathom what you want from me, of all people.”

Daniel’s expression got more somber. “I apologize for this ahead of time, H-” He cut himself off. “What would you prefer to be called?”

And did that startle the hell out of Hob. None of the Endless had ever given him such consideration upon their first meeting, other than Death herself. “Hob is fine.” He was too surprised to say anything else.

That seemed to relax Daniel a bit. “I apologize for this ahead of time, Hob. But I think you deserve to know this so that you—and I—can act based on all available information.” Hob blinked rapidly. Well, he had gotten Hob’s attention. Daniel looked down again and tucked some of his long hair behind a perfect ear, such a human movement, almost embarrassed. What could the King of Dreams and Nightmares possibly have to be embarrassed about? “At first, I thought it was just residual, from the transformation. That it would fade over time, as I became used to this new form and new perspective and new emotional state. It did not. It got stronger.” Hob got goosebumps, sat forward in his seat, leaning towards Daniel, straining to make sure he heard every word exactly correct. “It seems that you, Hob Gadling,” Daniel looked right at him and the stars Hob had missed so much floated there. “You have become a fundamental part of me. Of Dream of the Endless. Morpheus’ love for you has transcended form and space and is now woven into the very fabric of this being.” Hob collapsed back in his seat, staring at Daniel open-mouthed and stunned. “In the practical sense this means… well it means that I miss you. Desperately.” Daniel shook his head and let out a self-deprecating laugh. He looked away and out the front window of the pub. “I miss something—someone—I have never had.”

Christ in Heaven. Hob just stared and stared. Never in his wildest dreams… 

It was only when tears started to slide down his cheeks that Hob moved, first to wipe at his face and then to swallow down the rest of the pint in one long go of it. He came to a decision. “Alright,” Hob slammed the empty pint down on the table. “Let’s go then.” He got up, gathering his coat and heading out the door.

“What are you…” Daniel started reaching out as Hob walked past.

Hob turned back to him. “My flat is just down a ways. I need stronger liquor and a more comfortable chair for this conversation, if you wish to have it.” Then he tilted his head in invitation and continued out the door.