Ficlet: Wake Up My Body
So I was at a drag show with live piano and singing this weekend and there were a whole slew of Broadway songs and this idea hit me like the broadside of a barn (strongly influenced by @ginoeh's piano-playing Hob in Strains of a Melody). Absolute tooth-rotting fluff songfic for you here. Might continue with a second bit that gets to the spicy stuff, but what is below is just idiots in love and Hob in drag. Oh, and here is my new favorite version of the second song Hob sings, from Wicked. Dreamling || Rated T || 2k words
Hob had told Dream – insisted really, multiple times, in that one evening of re-acquaintance – that he was welcome to visit at any time. Day or night. Weekday or weekend. Whether Hob was at work (absolutely come see me lecture!) or at home (it isn't much, but I would love for you to see it) or at another location (usually right here at the New Inn, but occasionally I get out more, I swear).
Ergo, this must be something Hob is okay with Dream seeing.
Then why does Dream feel like he is intruding?
Perhaps it is because Dream has never seen Hob look like this, or sing like this, or create like this (never even conceived that he could).
Hob (and it is Hob, of that Dream has no doubt) is standing stage left, facing center stage, behind a keyboard set-up, in what might be the tightest and shortest black dress Dream has witnessed on a Waking person. If the ruching is any indication, the garment could be pulled down to Hob’s knees, but that would cover the garters that hold up his stockings at mid-thigh and wouldn’t those be a tragedy to cover up. The stockings are a rich grass green to match the shades of lipstick and eyeshadow on Hob’s face and the color of the satin beneath the black lace of his fingerless elbow-length gloves. Around his neck is a similarly green leather choker, large polished brass ring in the center matching the hardware of the garters and the finger-thick chains that serve as straps over his shoulders. Said chains hook to another large brass ring that sits between his shoulder blades, off of which comes a half dozen more chains venturing down to loop into fabric and keep the dress from falling off of him, especially considering that the open back dips down almost to Hob’s ass. The front of the dress scoops low and might as well be painted over Hob’s nipples as his chest hair gleams with a thin sheen of sweat from the stage lights. Hob’s hair is tousled and styled to look intentionally messy, the soft waves curling under his chin.
There is another human male in feminine attire, this set all pinks and whites and sparkles, across from him, belting into a hand-held microphone while Hob’s is a headset that loops around the back of his neck.
Though I do admit it came on fast I do believe that it can last! And I will be loathing For forever loathing Truly deeply loathing you My whole life long!
The duet ends to raucous applause and whistles, many people waving money in the air, which the person who is not Hob gleefully collects, dancing around on precariously high heels.
Dream is going to make his presence known, step out of the shadows, but then Hob is laughing and speaking to the audience as they continue to scream and cheer. “You know I can’t resist that song when I have my Elphaba on. Thank you Candy Baa, ewe are always such a bleat-ing pleasure to work with.” Everyone laughs as she sends kisses Hob’s way and walks off stage. Hob, meanwhile, turns to the audience. “You want another one?”
The volume of the audience increases and Dream can’t help but smile at how Hob clearly has everyone eating out of his hand.
“Well good! Because I am gonna do another one whether you like it or not!” Laughter intermixes with more cheering. “Hey, my darling Aaron, get your little twink arse up here and take the mic.”
There is clapping and whistling as a man in very tight black leather pants and heeled boots emerges from the crowd and hops onto the stage, long blonde ponytail glinting in the lights. He wears a deep indigo tank top that also might as well be painted on for all it conceals as he bows theatrically low to Hob. “What do you wish of me, my dear Elph-Rob-a?” There is a collective groan, but Dream can only see the playful, familiar body language between the two people on stage, making him frown.
Hob plays a series of descending notes as he goes, “wah-waaah,” then adjusts his own mic. “Make that joke again and I will smack that smirk off your pretty face.”
Aaron stands up, laughing, leaning towards Hob and arching an eyebrow suggestively. “Promise?”
A flash of… something… burns in Dream’s chest when Hob chuckles in response, shaking his head. “Such a fucking slut, my god. No wonder you like playing Fiyero so much.” More laughter from the audience.
“Hey, you are just as into this shit as me, Robbie.” He turns to the audience. “Besides, y’all are in for a treat tonight… We have sung this song many times together, yet Robbie here blew me away in rehearsals. Seems like he has a special someone who he is thinking about when he sings this one, now.”
There is a definite blush that blooms on Hob’s cheeks beneath the rouge, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the teasing, just rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Like a schoolgirl with a crush. Blah blah blah. I won’t deny it.” He plays some opening chords. “Now let’s do this before I age out of the part.”
As the music builds, Hob hums along wordlessly for a bit, eyes sliding closed, then starts singing, a sweet and joyful hunger already infused in every note.
Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight. I need help believing You’re with me tonight.
Dream inhales sharply. Aaron was correct about how Hob is inserting himself into this song, Dream can feel the daydream coalescing around him.
My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying here beside you With you wanting me.
He has to grit his teeth as the daydream strengthens, pulling at its Lord. Dream does not want to intrude on his friend in this way. And, further, he does not want to know who Hob wants in such a way, should not risk it given his sudden desire to send them minor nightmares.
And just for this moment, As long as you’re mine, I’ve lost all resistance And crossed some borderline. And if it turns out It’s over too fast I’ll make every last moment last. As long as you’re mine.
This was a terrible idea. To stay after he saw that Hob is busy. Dream should have gone. But now he is rooted to the spot and realizing that, first off, his friend has a powerful voice that commands attention, and second, that it would be oh so easy to imagine being the person Hob is singing to. Singing about. Dream had not thought… well, it no longer matters what he used to think he felt about Hob, does it? Because this, this right now, is most definitely not friendship.
Hob opens his eyes, gentle smile on his face, as Aaron begins to sing.
Maybe I’m brainless, Maybe I’m wise, But you’ve got me seeing Through different eyes. Somehow I’ve fallen Under your spell. And somehow I’m feeling It’s up that I fell.
This specific story is one that was written while Dream was caged, but the beats are familiar for the form is old. Unexpected love, accepted with abandon, with full knowledge that it might end and even so it would be worth it, just to experience the other person fully and be changed by them in turn. This is the kind of love Calliope would inspire into one of her epics. Dream aches for remembering how such a thing feels and yet knows that he would do it again without a second thought.
Hob’s daydream continues to gain momentum as they start to sing together.
Every moment As long as you’re mine I’ll wake up my body And make up for lost time Say there’s no future For us as a pair And though I may know I don’t care!
Dream can admit that the two tenors compliment each other. He can admit it. He would just probably never do it out loud. He can hear Matthew calling him petty even as he thinks it. The problem is that Matthew would likely say that with no little amount of pride in his voice.
Hob stops playing and steps around the keyboard, continuing a capella. He and Aaron are certainly playing the parts, eyes only for each other. In a moment that Dream will later claim is temporary insanity, he sinks into the shadows at his back and emerges within the shadows of one wing of the stage, directly behind Aaron, so that now Hob is facing him, too, although he is careful to remain unseen.
Just for this moment As long as you’re mine Come be how you want to And see how bright we shine!
He realizes his error immediately. Dream cannot remain separate from the daydream this close to its source, not one that pulls upon him this strongly.
What Hob is seeing flickers to life, overtaking Aaron where he stands, superimposing someone taller, if just as thin, with similar boots and tight blank pants. As Dream’s eyes travel upwards they take in the bottom of a black peacoat, the tailored waist, the collar melding with the wild black hair atop the daydream’s head.
Dream cannot look away as the pair sways with the emotion in the lyrics and then he sees them both in semi-profile and that confirms it beyond any shadow of a doubt. Something inside Dream lurches.
Hob is imagining himself singing opposite Dream.
Borrow the moonlight Until it is through And know I’ll be here Holding you. As long as you’re mine.
As the song comes to a close, Hob looks down and they lapse into a small bit of dialog, Aaron’s voice coming out through a mirage of Dream’s lips. “What is it?”
“It’s just for the first time, I feel…” Hob huffs a laugh and looks up with a spark of fire in his eyes, “wicked.”
Aaron leans in as if to kiss Hob and – with a flood of relief Dream studiously refuses to look at closely right now – his friend avoids at the last minute, ending up with their cheeks pressed together.
The entire place erupts into screaming, hands with money flying into the air.
From here, Dream can hear Aaron speak away from the mics as the daydream fades around him. “Man, you always kiss me at the end of that. You must have it bad for this guy.”
Hob’s chuckle is very self-deprecating, “Aaron, you have no ideah!”
That’s when Dream realizes that the shadows that were once around him have receded slightly as the spotlight moved to track the singers. His friend is staring right at him.
Hob is in front of Dream in three long strides, which he does not note causes the skirt to slide higher, absolutely not. “Dream!” He reaches up to his ear and drops the mic to around his neck, clicking it off in the process. His voice is a breathless whisper, “My friend, how long have you been here? I can’t believe you get to see me like…” Hob motions to his body and Dream doesn’t even try to stop himself from looking, all the way down to his stiletto heels and back up to his face that is a solid half-foot higher than usual. He doesn’t seem embarrassed, just amused.
“I have…” Dream looks into Hob’s warm, welcoming eyes and finds himself unable to lie. “I have been here long enough to see the daydream you created while singing that last song.”
The black eyeliner and fake lashes make Hob’s widening expression look even more dramatic. “You… daydream…”
“I am the King of all dreams, Hob. All of them.” He brings the tips of his fingers up to just barely brush Hob’s cheek. “And I think we need to… talk…” Dream trails them down to Hob’s lips, brushing across them with gentle pressure. A thrill shivers through him as Hob’s pupils dilate. “... about who you want to be holding you.” He traces down Hob’s throat and lingers for a moment above his collarbone before his hand wraps around the side of Hob’s neck in a tight grip, forcing a moan past painted lips. “Because the song is right,” Dream has to increase the heels on his own shoes to bring his mouth close to Hob’s. “We need to make up for lost time.”
