Chapter Text
Dream let out a content sigh as the last pieces of rubble slotted back into place. He had spent the past week travelling the Dreaming, and repairing everything he could.
It had taken a lot of effort and power, but he could now safely say that most of the Dreaming had been restored to its former glory, if not improved upon.
He was immensely happy that it was nearing the time his lover usually returned from his university to the New Inn, for he had an excuse to take a break from the repair work.
He waved off his citizens' grateful cries and stepped out of his realm to fall into step with Hob.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Just Dream will do."
"God dammit, Dream, that wasn't funny the 7th time you did that." Contrary to his words, a bright smile lit up his face.
Dream smiled back. He never really managed to refrain from reciprocating Hob's smile.
Unfortunately, even Dream's smile radiated exhaustion, and Hob picked up on it with a practised ease. He tugged his lover close, till he leaned against him.
"Are you alright, love?"
"Just tired. Renovations."
"Want me to carry you?"
"That is not necessary, my heart. If anything, I should offer to carry you."
"My students aren't that bad, you just caught them on a bad day!"
"I know their dreams, Hob. They are exactly that bad."
The lighthearted banter felt good, easy and devoid of expectations. Dream leaned his head on Hob's shoulder, glad to be by his lover's side again.
It had been a long month, and Dream had missed him terribly.
They made their way to the Inn, and sat in their little booth in the corner. Gone were the days they sat opposite to each other, they spent every meal pressed so close that they were almost one being.
Dream sagged into the cushions, closing his eyes as he settled in to enjoy the warmth Hob gave off. Hob tried to guide him to lie down with his head in his lap, but Dream resisted, knowing that if he lay down, he would not be getting up again, and then Hob would be upset at him for not eating.
“You’re exhausted, pet. I can feel it. You can lie down, we’ll eat in a bit.”
And Dream acquiesced, letting Hob manipulate his body till he was horizontal. A gentle finger traced his features, and Dream shuddered, fully relaxing under the care of his lover.
“How is your realm doing?”
“It is… flourishing. Mostly repaired or improved. Should not take much longer before the realm itself is fully repaired. Then I will have to recreate the arcana that were lost to the Waking.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” Dream snuggled into Hob even more, “But I have a beautiful lover to spend time with after.”
Hob chuckled, rubbing a thumb along Dream’s cheekbone. “Always, pet.”
Dream looked up at Hob, eyes filled with reverence. And stars. There were stars in his eyes. Like very literal stars. Shining little pinpricks of light. Stars. Stars .
"Woah."
"Hm?" Dream nuzzled into Hob's hand, confused why his ministrations had stopped.
"Your eyes, they– they're stars. Like a night sky. Before the industrial revolution."
Dream bolted up to grab a spoon and look at his reflection, moving faster than Hob had ever seen anything move.
" Shit . I'm sorry, Hob, I did not realise." He rubbed a hand across his face, voice stuttering with an edge of panic.
Hob grabbed Dream's wrist and pulled it away from his face. When he finally made eye contact again, they were the stunningly blue eyes he had always known.
"Dream, calm down, love. Please."
"I– I'm sorry. I have used up a lot of power over the past weeks in the repair of my realm and dropped the masking over my eyes. My apologies."
"Why are you apologising? There's nothing to be sorry about. Except maybe not showing me your gorgeous eyes before."
"They're awful . I hate them."
It was the first time Hob had ever heard Dream admit hatred for anything. He didn't believe the personification of the collective unconscious could hate anything, but his magnetic voice was simply dripping with the rawest vulnerability Hob had ever witnessed.
Add that to the fact that Dream cursed , and it was the truest testament to his sincerity.
“You hate them?”
Dream nodded, the burst of energy that let him move as fast as the flap of a hummingbird’s wings slowly subsiding.
“Sweetheart…”
“They are…reminiscent of my mother.”
“You have a mother?”
“Well, no, Hob. I was conceived by a single father. Of course I have a mother.”
“Dream.”
He deflated, lying back down when Hob tugged him gently.
“My ‘true’ eyes are fragments of the Night sky.” Dream scoffed,”Broken bits, just like the rest of me.”
"Dream.”
Oh no, Dream has activated stern Hob.
“Not like that, Hob, I didn’t mean that.“
“Don’t care. Say it.”
When Hob had realised Dream’s penchant for self depreciation and flagellation, he had enacted a new rule: If Dream spoke lowly or harshly of himself, he had to recite 5 things that he liked about himself.
Dream hated it.
He listed them off slowly, hesitantly, seeking comfort in Hob’s touch whenever he drew a blank, and eventually finished.
How ironic that the Prince of Stories struggled to find words for himself?
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hob leaned down to kiss his forehead.
“It was.”
“It will become easier then. Now tell me, what’s the deal?”
“My mother is Night. She is…difficult. What humans would call narcissistic and superficial. She once threw me into a black hole to be broken apart a few times to teach me a lesson.” Dream smiled smugly, “That’s what I meant.”
Hob ignored his last statement, mostly dumbfounded by Dream’s admission, “ Why?! ”
“I told her she should know that Delight had changed to Delirium.”
“That’s— that’s definitely something she should know? Does she not care for her children in the slightest?”
“Only when we don’t say anything she dislikes. Do you know what the most ironic part is? My penchant for not speaking to others has made me her favourite, in her words, and yet, I am the only one she has locked away in a black hole. Twice.”
“Dream, I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again: Your family is completely and utterly screwed.”
“You are not wrong. The most well-adjusted of us, per se, is Death, and I believe humanity would find that rather ironic.”
“Damn right. Rest of you chuckleheads need to take a page from her book.”
Dream hummed in agreement, closing his eyes and stretching out on Hob’s lap like an overgrown cat.
“Don’t drift off yet, sweetheart,” Hob admonished. “Look at me, please?” He knew that if Dream slipped off into the in-between space that he went to when he rested, he would not emerge easily.
The rest of Hob’s words died in his throat, as he was struck by the beauty of the nebulous irises once again.
“Exactly how exhausting are your repairs?”
“The damage was extensive. In complete honesty, I do not recall the last time I had used such power outside battle. The Dreaming is a part of me, so it draws upon my power and my essence to aid its repair.”
Dream sighed, “Did I drop the illusion again?”
“Let them be, please. You might not have the greatest relationship with your mother, but your eyes are still a part of you , my love. And they’re beautiful, just like the rest of you.”
Dream scoffed and shut his eyes, unwilling to accept Hob’s words.
“Sweetheart. You don’t care about yourself and how you look, fine. I do. And I would appreciate it if you stopped insinuating that something I find beauty in is not beautiful. Do not start projecting your thoughts onto me again, please.”
Dream winced, and nodded slowly, “I apologise.”
Hob had decided that if Dream couldn’t see his own worth, Hob would, and he did not like it when Dream started assigning his self-deprecating thoughts to Hob.
“I accept your apology. Now, please let me see your eyes?”
Hob lost himself in the starry gaze, so much so that he got startled when Dream blinked, and a tear slipped down his face.
“Are we alright, pet?”
Dream scrubbed at his face with a corner of his sleeve and nodded fervently. He spoke in a small voice, “Do you really think I— my eyes are beautiful?”
Hob bent down to kiss away the tear track and whispered in Dream’s ear, “They are the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time, Dream.”
Dream looked at his reflection in the spoon still grasped tightly, and considered Hob’s words. Considered Hob’s reverent fingers tracing his cheekbones. Considered Hob’s awe .
And he let it sink in.
“I think… you may be right.”
“That’s more like it, dove. Thank you for hearing me out.”
Dream smiled shyly, letting the piece of cutlery fall to the side.
“Do you want to drift now? I really don’t think you will be able to stay fully in the Waking for a while if you don’t rest.”
“I would appreciate that.”
So Hob pushed his fingers into Dream’s hair, trying to find the pressure points that would put a human to sleep, and an Endless to dream, and laughed at the little whimper Dream let escape. Hob had quickly discovered that any action that helped a human sleep, when done to Dream, caused his endorphins (or at least his endorphin equivalents) to ratchet up to the sky .
It never failed to get Dream to relax and approach the Drifting, as Hob had dubbed it.
“Wait. Is this why so many of your arcana have weird ass eyes?”