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Matthew spiralled down from the rafters, landed by Desire’s tail, and stabbed at it with his beak. It was either that, or peck out his own freakin’ tailfeathers. He couldn’t even curse properly anymore, not now there was this new little Endless hanging around the Dreaming.
“Look, maybe he's doing, y'know, ‘feng shui’ up there?” he squawked to Lucienne, waving his wing at where Dream and Daniel stood together, high up on the Dream Throne dais. “Maybe it’s on that list of things Hob wants his lordship to try? Maybe between ‘Fan Dancing’ and ‘Freestyle Rapping’?”
Lucienne had the long scroll of potential new hobbies scrunched up tightly in her fist, like someone who was thinking about punching a palace wall. Behind her spectacles, her left eye twitched. “His lordship said that as he now has some spare time,” she muttered to no-one in particular, “he’s going to alphabetise the… Library…”
Dream was at that moment directing Mervyn hither and thither, with elegant waves of his long, white hand. “Perhaps even a little more to the left?” he instructed.
Mervyn looked just about ready to split his gourd, with all the effort of shoving the Dream Throne about like it was a broken, old, beer-stained recliner. “It’s right on the edge of the steps already, Boss? I mean…’Retired Boss’?” he puffed.
“’Semi-Retired’ Boss,” Dream corrected. “Well, I suppose that will have to do, then.”
“Lord Dream Emeritus?” Daniel tugged at Dream’s sleeve. “The negotiations with the liminal plenipotentiaries are imminent, so should we not be discussing bargaining strategies for immunity accreditations, instead of moving my symbolic Seat of Power around?”
“Sweet, naive child,” his lordship answered, kindly, “I would never expect one so young to be familiar with the nuances of diplomacy.” He patted Daniel on the head, which was awkward, given that they were the same height. “But, as your beloved mentor, I can hardly squat on the floor, now can I?” There was a localised tornado of sand, and a second, massive chair appeared, front and centre of the dais. If it was in any way smaller than the official, original Throne, then it was only by a wyvern’s whisker. “I can sit here,” Dream said.
Down below, Desire flicked Matthew off their tail, like the worm yeeting the early bird. “See? His knobship’s only hobby now is clearly being an interfering old biddy. Emeritus my arse! I came home from a brunch orgy yesterday, to find that he’d grouped my dildos into colour and height order, said it would be more ‘efficient’.” They pouted. “Now it looks like have an oversized panpipe collection.”
“Perhaps it is time we put our concerns to his Royal Consort?” Lucienne said.
“If you mean Hob,” Death replied, “then he’s with Tamaris, tidying up the kitchens. Well, rebuilding them, really. Dream decided to teach Danny how to cater an infinity banquet, despite never before having so much as boiled water...”
Hob strolled into the room at that very moment, whistling merrily. He was happy as a drunk bunny at a salad bar, not just because he and his Dream were together at last, but also because Dream had agreed to step back a smidge, let Daniel learn how to manage the day-to-day running of the Dreaming.
“Satan’s Scrotum.” Hob shook ash out of his hair. “It was like sodding 1666 all over again down there. Still, nothing like an inferno for getting baked-on chip fat off a couple of hundred cauldrons, so there’s that.” He offered up a tray of mugs and nibbles. “I brought back snacks, too. Shortbread finger and a pint of mead, anyone?”
“Fab.” Dream made grabby hands. “No wonder you’re my favourite brother-in-law.”
“Who’s the sippy cup for?” Matthew chirruped.
Desire got out their own hip flask.
“Most welcome.” Lucienne took two of the biggest tankards and started chugging them.
“So, how’s the Transition of Power going today, gang?” Hob beamed. “All tickety-boo?”
“Semi Transition,” the Lord Emeritus called, as he made his way down from the dais, slowly, because his heels were high and the steps were shallow. Daniel stepped over the baby gate and followed him, muttering about the need to secure more advantageous hypnagogic border concessions.
“Hob, dear,” Death said, “you really have to do something about Lord Elrond, or whatever fancy title your boyfriend’s calling himself now. Since he retired…”
“Semi-retired…” said a deep, descending voice.
“…he’s driving all of us, except Delirium, insane. Danny didn’t even have white hair until Dream started helping him to settle in.”
“Why don’t we break all of his fingers, so he has to let go?” Desire suggested, sweetly.
Hob dunked a biscuit in his mead. “What are you mad lads on about?”
Death draped a sisterly arm around Hob’s shoulders, and whispered charmingly in his ear, which was the most ball-shrinking thing he’d ever experienced. “Look, he was supposed to be doing that non-Endless thing, wasn’t he?”
“Helping me with the pub? Yeah.”
“But he’s still popping into all of the Realms, all the time, finding stuff to…” Death paused, clearly looking for a synonym for ‘stick his stupid interfering nose into.’
“Stick his huge, stupid, interfering nose into,” Desire offered, picking dried lube out from under their claws.
“…help us with?” Death said. “And this honestly has nothing to do with him suggesting 'fifty ways I could brighten up the Sunless Lands for under a fiver'. I’m just speaking to you as a big sister, who worries about him.” She attempted to make a really sad face, copied from a funeral she’d been to one time, to see what all the fuss was about.
Hob frowned. Then nodded. “Sod it. You’re right. It’s in his nature, you see, to want to take on responsibility, not give it up, the noble sweetheart. And I know he's always felt he didn’t see enough of you all, or try to connect with you all, before. I mean, he's been rushed off his sexy, lovely feet since the world began.”
“Perhaps you could intervene?” Death said.
“If you think I should…” Hob said, and scratched his singed beard. “Lemme think a minute…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…there is one thing that would occupy him." He flushed. "It’s a bit…personal.”
“Ugh. Please. If it's Fan Dancing…” Desire backed away like a scalded cat.
“Nah. It’s something I really didn’t plan on us doing, not so soon into our relationship, like...” Hob looked resigned. “But I can see that you guys are all busy doing your own thing, and that he’s distracting you from that, and you’re the most important superbeings in the universe, right? So…needs must, as they say?”
He waited until Dream glided up next to him. “My Sweet Doveling,” he said, taking the Lord Dream Emeritus’ pale hand. “Let’s do it. I know we said we should wait a while…but let’s try and start a family. Soon as possible.”
His Lordship slowly blushed. Dropped his helm, and the pale blue mini-helm he’d had knitted for Daniel. “You…mean it?” he said, softly. “My Hob…you would do this…for me?”
“Nah.” Hob smiled. “For us, myne herte. A new adventure, yeah?”
Dream enveloped Hob in his silky black cloak. “If anyone requires me, they will have to wait,” he announced, over the distinct sound of jeans being unzipped, and Hob yelping, delightedly. “I have a matter of utmost importance which I will be attending to,” his lordship added, “for the foreseeable future…”
And with that, he and Hob vanished, back to the New Inn, and the Waking.
“Can the rest of you please vacate my Throne Room too?” Daniel got out a clipboard and quill. “The legation of Inter-dimensional Ambassadors is due, and…”
“Ooh, somebody’s cranky!” Desire huffed.
Death nodded. “Well, this is what happens when we refuse to take our nap, isn’t it? Matthew, please tuck Danny into his cot?”
“But…?” Daniel looked mutinously at Matthew. Matthew shrugged a wing.
Death held out the sippy cup full of mead.
“Fine,” Daniel said, sulkily, and snatched it. “But only if you make Uncle Dream’s special chair be not so much bigger than mine?”
“Sure, sure. Aunty can fix anything,” Death smiled, a little smugly.
Time, or something like it, passed. Dream did not visit any of the Endless Realms. A little bird said that he rarely left Hob’s bed.
“It is actually more efficient, having sex toys sorted properly,” Desire admitted. “I was going to ask if our darling Dreamy would sort out that lot next, before there’s an unfortunate avalanche.” They gestured at the tottering, Himalayan-sized pile of discarded vibrators in the corner of the Threshold, twitching intermittently to itself. “But he’s never around, lately. Always unavailable.”
“Yes, he’s very busy, making the beast with two backs,” Delirium declared, whilst trying to undo the furry handcuffs and elasticated thongs she’d somehow got tangled up in. “Bonking. Porking. Having his trout tickled. Playing hide the sausage. Getting his donut filled up with jam…”
“Ugh. It isn't right. Our brother, having so much sex.” Desire looked queasy.
Despair unhappily sipped her pink champagne. Out of a red stiletto. “It’s Hob we should feel sorry for. He’s really taking one for the team, isn’t he? Unfortunate man. Nothing more depressing than having to do something when your heart isn’t in it.”
“I liked seeing more of Dream,” Delirium insisted. “I think you were all horrible and mean to him. You were always complaining that he was stand-offish, then when he did try to chat to you, and take an interest in you, you hoodwinked that poor, dumb human into keeping him entertained.” She glowered at Death. “Again.”
Destiny just looked harassed, and shook baby powder out of his dark robes. “And let's face it, Dream was really great with Danny. I mean, just now the little laddie was babbling on about ‘the philosophical ramifications of offering formal protection to somnambulic entities, primarily incubi and succubae, as they could be perceived as adjuncts to Dreamkin, and thus they should be morally exempt from exorcism’. I mean, I know all that infantile, goo-goo ga-ga stuff is supposed to be cute, but I can’t sit around listening to nonsense like that all day long.” He sighed. “Dream had a way of making all that baby-talk seem like it actually meant something…”
“You all miss Dream, see?” Delirium crowed. “What do the poets say? Absinthe makes the farts grow stronger!”
“Uh, hello? Death got rid of Dream, like, less than a week ago?” Destruction said, putting down the set of panpipes he’d been trying to get a tune out of. “Took you ages to get around to coming to find me.”
“Maybe alphabetisation isn’t such a bad idea?” Lucienne murmured into her third stiletto of mead.
Everyone at the tea party looked reproachfully at Death.
“What? It was a family decision! The majority of you wanted rid of him!” Death groaned. “Look, do I think, that with hindsight, some of us could have been a bit nicer to him? A tad more tolerant? Seeing as it can’t be easy to retire…”
They all waited for her to be corrected by Dream’s disembodied voice, but there was only the distant and somewhat melancholy humming of the vibrator mountain.
“I mean semi-retire,” Death amended herself, quietly. “I should have understood that he was just trying to reach out, find a life for himself that didn’t completely revolve around the Dreaming.”
Daniel trotted into the boudoir at that moment. Everyone tried to cover up literally everything in it. “Aunty Death! I finally made a nightmare!”
“Oh. Uh. Good?” Death said.
“No, it’s not good.” Daniel burst into tears. “It was an eldritch horror! A haunting vision of unspeakable evil!”
“Um. That’s your job now, isn’t it?”
“But it was scary! His Lordship Dream Emeritus told me not to make anything like that until I felt ready. And I’m not! He took care of all the nasty stuff, and let me just do kittens and rainbows.” He stamped his foot on the genuine chest-hair rug. “I want Uncle Dream to come and help me again. He reads me the best bedtime stories. Doesn’t just say ‘Sorry, laddie, but the pages of this book are unwritten, empty, not yet filled with chapters that may or may not ever exist.’ And then slope off down the betting shop…” He glared pointedly at Destiny.
Death exhaled, and plonked herself down on a lubed, and latex-covered love-seat. “Ok.” She slid slowly off. “So, we’re saying that we all want him back?” From the floor, she waved wearily with her scythe. “Ok. Fine. Go get his sigil, someone? Let’s give him a call.”
Dream placed the full glass of banana cream liqueur down on the bar.
The customer recoiled, hands in dressing-gown pockets. “I can’t drink that. I asked for a pint.”
“That is exactly a pint.” Dream shrugged. “You did not specify what you wanted a pint of.”
Hob came in and put his arm around Dream’s waist. He looked serene; full of a blissful, bone-deep contentment. He also looked shagged out and was limping a bit.
“He has a point, Arthur.”
“Alright.” The man picked up his towel and took the drink. “Seeing as it’s clearly a Thursday.”
There was a smallish ripple in reality, and all the Endless piled through into the pub at once, looking like they’d been there all long. Except Destruction, who’d been accidentally left behind and was wondering where everybody was.
“What can I get you?” Dream asked them.
“Do you have any mead?” Lucienne piped up.
“You haven’t returned our summoning?” Death explained. “So we thought we’d just casually drop by?”
“I have been rather occupied…” Dream glanced around at Hob. It was a look so lascivious that Destiny put his hands over Danny’s eyes. Desire retched. Death elbowed them in the ribs.
“Come home, Dream? Please?” she said. “Thing is, Lord Lucifer’s got locked out again. Says you’ve got the spare set of keys to Hell, but nobody knows where in the Palace you keep them?”
Desire lounged on a bar stool. “And I’ve been telling that messy old queen, Dionysus, all about how you’re a genius at decluttering, dearest brother.” They fluttered their eyelashes. “He’d simply love you to pop over to Mount Nysa and tidy up for him.”
“I miss you,” Delirium said.
Dream smiled at her. “I have a part-time job now.” He turned and took Hob’s hand. “And we have a full-time commitment to a fertility App on Hob’s mobile telephone.”
“You have only semi-retired, though?” Destiny said, anxiously. “I mean, think of little Danny here? He’s your apprentice, your protégé. He needs guidance. Education. And his toast cut into dinosaur shapes.”
Hob gave Dream a loving squeeze. “Sugarplum, you just used the last glass in the entire pub. You’ve broken all the rest. So how about you go spend some quality time with your family, give me a chance to restock?” He glanced at the jar of pickled eggs on the bar-top, winced, and adjusted the front of his jeans. “In more ways than one.”
Dream looked uncertainly towards his family. “If my presence would not be a nuisance?”
“Never,” Death said. “Maybe we can pop to the Sunless Lands later? I have some fairy lights, if you and Delirium feel like putting them up with me?”
Delirium clapped her hands. “They’re made from real fairies, too!”
Dream turned to Hob, who helped him untie his ‘I’m your barman, not your therapist’ apron. “My love, I shall not be long away. Do not forget your zinc supplements, and your pelvic floor exercises.”
They began to bid one another a fond farewell, which went on for a while, whilst Desire made vomiting noises in the background, and Destiny had to cover Daniel’s eyes again.
And then Dream and the others departed in a massive maelstrom of sand.
Hob blew grit off the pickled eggs, and offered Arthur a top-up of banana cream liqueur, this time on the house.
Hob was pottering about the flat, slightly aimlessly, when Dream finally returned.
“Oh sweetheart.” Hob took Dream’s hands. “I’ve missed you like a hot dog misses mustard.” He led his boyfriend to the sofa, where Dream obligingly subsided against the cushions. “So, was everybody nice to you this time around? Even if you annoyed the shit out of them?”
“Yes,” Dream said. “Indeed, I should perhaps feel remorseful, because we have bamboozled them into putting up with me?”
“Nah.” Hob pulled Dream onto his lap. “All we did was remove you from the equation for a bit, give them a chance to see how bloody boring life is without you.” He kissed Dream as if he hadn’t seen him for months, not just over a day.
“You are as bad as Puck, with your schemes and plots, good sir,” Dream said, straddling Hob’s thighs, and starting to undo the buttons on Hob’s shirt. “For example, you begged me to partially retire, to provide you with assistance here, at the New Inn. And yet there does not seem to be any catastrophic shortage of service industry labour?” He leaned in, and gently bit along Hob’s jaw, in punishment. Hob hissed with pleasure. “One might think that you have tricked me, too?”
Hob stopped caressing Dream’s shoulders and arms, then laughed. “Sod it. You’ve got me there, Honeybee.” He pushed Dream back, so that his boyfriend could clearly see the adoration on his face. “I love you, you wonderful menance, with all my heart, and I couldn’t just stand by watching you go on having a having a truly cosmic case of burn out, century after century.” He shrugged. “You kept saying no to taking a break, so I had to resort to playing dirty…”
Dream nodded. “Speaking of which…” He undid Hob’s belt buckle.
Hob helped him. Dream’s coat and leggings came off too. “The way I see it, love, if your lot weren’t all so self-absorbed, they’d see you for the shining, adorable, brilliant gem that you are.” Dream’s chiffon blouse was discarded next. “But if they need a bit of a nudge with that, I am fully prepared to lie my bollocks off in any way necessary.”
Dream shivered a little under Hob’s warm, roving palms. “Perhaps I ought to check that has not literally happened, by dint of a thorough examination of that area of your anatomy?”
“Oof.” Hob sat back to watch. “Well, ok then, because, of course, we’re trying very hard to be getting pregnant…” He winked.
“Yes...” Dream straightened back up then, and went a bit pink. “Although there is something I need to speak to you about, with regard to that particular part of our plan…”
He looked adorably bashful, which was amazing, seeing as he had both hands down Hob’s trousers at the time.
“What..?” Now that Hob looked closely, there seemed to be a few million more stars dancing in his darling’s black eyes. His satiny skin gleamed and glowed, more exquisitely lustrous than ever before. His hair looked nice, too.
“My Hob,” Dream mumbled, placing one of Hob’s big, brown hands, delicately, onto his pale belly. “I apologise, for I know that you did not intend for this to truly happen…”
Dream stopped talking then, because Hob was kissing him, all over his anxious face.
“You really mean that we are...?” Hob held Lord Dream Emeritus tightly, but carefully, in his arms.
“I think so, yes.” Dream blushed very prettily.
And they say that Hob’s delighted whoops of celebration were heard as far away as the very limitless boundaries of the Dreaming.
And the same goes for Desire’s horrified gagging.
Because sometimes you get the family you deserve.
And sometimes you don’t.
And sometimes you accidentally but very happily get an even bigger family than you had before, by pretending to be trying to make a bigger family in a fake conception scam, but you totally forget that maybe you should only be pretending to have endless, mind-blowing, not to mention very procreative sex, with your hot, immortal boyfriend.