Chapter Text
"Hey," Hob grins, throwing down the hammer and wiping his hands. "How you doin', love?"
"Hello," Dream returns, in that lovely deep voice of his. There's a smile tucked into the corner of his lips that Hob has to remind himself not to stare at- he's managed to get a remarkable system in place for the pining after six hundred years of yearning and twenty years of close calls, and he's proud to say it still holds strong, no matter how kissable Dream's pink nose looks in the cold. "I brought coffee."
"Ah, thank you, much appreciated," Hob says gratefully, cupping his cold hands around the hot cup with relish. The labour of putting the signboard back up in a panic after it fell in the night's snow three hours before the inn was set to open isn't quite enough to push back the biting winter chill. Thank god for the end of global warming obviously, but Hob did not miss the cold.
He takes a sip and sighs, closing his eyes in bliss.
When he opens his eyes, Dream is centimetres away.
"Oh!" Hob says, tilting the cup Dream's way, "You want some?"
Dream blinks. Hob helpfully puts the cup to the other's lips, and lets him take a sip.
"You should have said," He huffs, taking the cup back and leaning in to rub their noses together, unable to resist. He walks away to pick up the hammer, taking a step back to survey his work. "Looks straight, right?"
He looks back. Dream is still standing there. Hob frowns. "Dream?"
Dream looks towards him, oddly dazed. "Hm?"
"Everything alright?" Hob says, slower. Dream's eye twitches but hey, he'd patronize him less if the bastard would stop getting into trouble every third hour of the day.
"Yes," Dream says through gritted teeth as his eyes sharpen. Gods, Hob has to get him warmer clothes, poor duck is flushed right through. "Everything is fine."
"Swell," Hob says, leaving the suspicion in his tone so Dream doesn't go thinking he's got off scot free. "Nothing you want to tell me, then?"
"There is, actually," Dream raises his voice, stepping closer. He looks Hob up and down and smiles, eyes glinting through his lashes. Proper smiles, like Hob has been seeing grow in quantity and ease ever since the other came back from captivity. "I would like to tell you... that you look resplendent today."
"My sweet. Darling angel. Dearest whom I adore with all my heart," Hob says fondly, putting down the coffee to gesture to his outfit. "I am in neon booty shorts a century old and a raggedy shirt the color of vomit."
Dream's expression wavers and crumbles into disgusted sorrow briefly. "Why are you wearing these things, Hob, really-"
"I'm going to throw them out after this!" Hob protests, stepping back up on the ladder to hammer the last nail in. "See, getting them dirty and unusable-"
"They're already unusable," Dream says scathingly. "And it gave three of your coworkers nightmares on three separate occassions when they saw you wearing it."
"Don't I know it," Hob grunts. "They never let me hear the end of it. Can't a man have his comfort clothes? And how'd you know that anyway?"
"The nightmare who worked it came crying to me on the third night, saying he never wanted to wear these appalling things ever again."
"He did not!" Hob says indignantly. "It's not even your place anymore to hear them out!"
"He did," Dream sniffs. "And my subjects visit me during my sleeping hours. Often to complain about the likes of you."
"Fjcuk yu, I jknouw yure lyun," Hob says through a mouthful of nails. He hears the eyeroll six feet in the air, and shakes his head in return, hammering the last nail in.
Finally, he hops off the last rung, shaking out his hands with satisfaction. When he looks over, Dream is staring at the back of the shorts with a pained look in his eyes, where it is bedazzled in bright pink, 'SLUTLICIOUS'.
"Anyways," Hob says, and Dream jumps, dragging his gaze away with clear effort. "If any one of us looks good today, darkling, it's you. That suit really outlines your figure well. Missed seeing you in black, too. Are those real aquamarine?"
Dream's lips part, as one hand comes up to touch the necklace, much gaudie than the ruby. "Apatite. Do you like it?"
"Brings out your eyes," Hob says cheerfully. He opens the door and reaches out to snag his friend and drag him in. "Inside with you, love. Snow's really got you flushed today, it's starting to concern me. Are you sure you have enough layers?"
"If one speck more of wool touches me, I will combust," Dream informs him. "And-" He makes a curious sound, something like a disgruntled horse. Abruptly he pushes his heels down so that Hob has to stumble and slow, and grabs Hob by both sleeves so he can reel him back in close and glare at him. "You distracted me."
"Slander and lies," Hob replies automatically. "What from?"
Dream cuts his gaze to the side, scowling. "Nothing."
"Okay," Hob says, stepping back. He waits. "I'm just gonna-"
"Hob," Dream breaks immediately, pulling him back in. Frowns. Sighs. "I wanted to say. Even though your clothes are... unappealing. You fill them out with such radiance they become easy to ignore. And you still look good."
"Aw, thanks, dove," Hob says, touched. Squeezes Dream's hands. "Is it give your friend a compliment day at the therapist's office?"
"Therapi- no," Dream's brow creases. "I just..."
"Well, whatever it is, thanks, love, I'm flattered, really," Hob says. "But we really have to rush, we open in a couple hours! I'm going to do one last round of the rooms to check that everything is alright-"
"Hob, could you please wait."
The plea is so genuine that Hob stops in his tracks, suddenly feeling terrible about rushing around and ignoring his friend. "Sorry, sorry. Overexcited, you know how I am."
"You do not need to-" Dream cuts himself off with a sigh. Pulls his composure together. Reaches into a bag he's brought back and pulls out a bouquet of flowers. "Hob Gadling. Would you-"
"Oh, the flowers, you got them!" Hob bounces on his heels excitedly and admittedly snatches them away from Dream immediately to arrange them in the empty jar in the table set in the middle of the entry way. "I thought you didn't end up seeing the message."
He hums as he nudges the stems into place, smiling. Dream has such a nice eye for colors.
"Thanks duck, it looks great," He grins. Dream is standing silent behind him, phone in one hand open to the message 'Hey sweets, can you get some flowers for the vase out front on your way back?' and the other hand occupied with his face.
"Oh, don't be dramatic," Hob chides, pulling him out of the facepalm. "One splash of color won't hurt. It looks great! The guests will love it."
"The guests," Dream says monotonously, eyes dead.
Hob chuckles and throws his hand around his shoulders, squeezing. "Yes. They will. You have a good eye for these things, Mr. Ex-Dreamlord. Now come on, I really wanna do a round of the rooms."
Dream mutters something to himself about useless endeavours. Hob snorts and pulls him close, allowing himself one single peck on the other's cheek to placate him, and then drags him along to check on the rooms.