Hold Tight (6/6)
Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.
Series: The Hob Adherent series.
Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.
Relationships: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Past Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past), Hector Hall/Lyta Hall (past)
Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker
Summary:
Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.
Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.
READ ON AO3 or below:
Chapter Six
A year and a bit later, as the Endless and Immortals reckon "later"…
Rose Walker's debut book tour takes her to London, which means, of course, Hob has to throw her a little party at the New Inn to celebrate. Hob invites his Elizabethan Manor compatriots, Rose’s UK publishing team, and those few distant relatives to the Kincaid side of the family Harri could abuse her position at BBC Historics to track down for Rose and Jed.
Hob had also invited the Walker's granduncles, grandaunts, and grandparent, but asked them to come after dark, when all the normal humans had come and gone.
Lyta and Daniel Hall, enticed with promises of meeting the extended family and a free trip to England, have joined them. Which means the party has become a lax outdoor affair in the private back garden of the Inn, with lots of sandwiches and lemonade, and far too many gift-wrapped toys for young Daniel to gleefully tear open from pride of place on his chequered picnic blanket.
Filled with fizzy pride as he watches Rose and Jed begin to open up to her mother's long-lost family, Hob takes advantage of the guest of honour's distraction to herd Morph into the shaded corner of the garden furthest from the back door. He'd hidden a kraft-paper envelope in the brambles here earlier, and now he risks blackberry thorn scratches to retrieve it for Morph.
"Happy anniversary, duck," Hob says, handing the envelope over.
"Happy anniversary," Morph replies with a sly smile. "Though I believe you are early by two days. It is only the fifth."
"Yes and no," Hob says. "I wanted to give this to you now, because we'll be travelling on the seventh."
"Oh, we will, will we?" Morph challenges playfully, one eyebrow raised in question. "And where will we be travelling, Hob Gadling?"
"Open the envelope and see, Morph Gadling," Hob teases back.
Morph breaks the wax seal that Hob had used in a fit of nostalgia, and slides a packet of glossy photographs and creamy thick paper into his hand.
“What is this?”
"I… bought some land," Hob says, as he helps Morph make sense of the wad of papers. "Well. Re-bought, really."
He pulls out and then drops an aerial photo onto the top of the pile. It's painted-over with red surveyor's lines, which sketch out the boundaries of a piece of wild woodland, a meadowed slope, and two stone-bounded little fields. If you look closely enough, and maybe turn the picture a little, you can see that what originally appears to be an organic cluster of ancient fruit trees resolves itself into man-made lines of a severely overgrown orchard. And just up the slope from that, the grey-green lumps of tumbled slate walls outline a centuries old foundation for a little four-room cottage.
Hob pulls the deed out of the pile next. It's computer-generated but with Hob's tell-tale signature and handwriting proclaiming the parcel to be henceforth known as New Glade Estate.
Hob is many things, but a poet is not one of them.
That's his husband's job.
"Hob," Morph says, swallowing hard. "What is this?"
"Ours," Hob says, with a gallic shrug and a tug of his earlobe. "I thought… I built it once. I could build it again. Only this time there will be the two of us. We can do it together. Make it our own little haven away from the city. Give Matthew a rookery. Add a guest bedroom for Daniel, for when he’s old enough to come visit for the summers. Install real plumbing and a drawing room. I could reclaim the orchard from the forest, add in some garden beds, and… well, what do you think?"
Morph looks up at his husband and grins. It is a delighted, carefree expression that Hob has had the privilege to witness on his husband's face more and more since the honeymoon. It never fails to fill Hob with gratitude and relief.
"I think it is a splendid idea," Morph says.
"Thank fuck," Hob says, heaving a sign of relief. "Because I've already spent a tidy fortune to have the land surveyed, and the old forest road cleared and re-gravelled, and the first draft of the blueprints drawn up. Obviously they're not final until you've worked your creative magic on them, but I—"
Morph silences Hob with a kiss, which is par for the course.
What isn't par is the hissed little " Ew, don't do that in front of me," that someone says directly into Hob's ear.
"Gah!" Hob yelps, jerking away from the painted lips beside his face so fast that he nearly topples into the hedgerow.
One red-taloned hand grabs him by the shirtfront and keeps him upright, though.
"Thanks Desire," Hob gulps, heart racing from the surprise as he gets his feet back under him. "I would have preferred it if you didn't scare the shit out of me first, though."
"Oh but I couldn't help it, Handsome Hobsie," Desire purrs. "You're just so pretty when you're flushed and panting."
"Desire," Morph growls warningly.
"Oh, untwist your panties, Mope," Desire says, waving off his ire. "I'm just having fun. Speaking of fun, swell party, little brother."
"Thanks," Hob says. "Though, I think you're a bit early. I said after dark."
Desires waves that away too, as if Hob's request to keep the Endless and Mortal sides of the Rose and Jed's family nominally separate for the first meeting was just silly nonsense. "I am their grandparent, I deserve first dibs."
"Demand and deserve are two entirely separate things," Morph shoots back. "Will you not give Rose the courtesy to—"
"And who are you to speak of my granddaughter as if you were the protector of her heart—"
"The only one among our family who cared for it," Morph hisses back.
"Hey now," Hob says. "Come on now, we're going to draw a crowd. Let's not throw vitriol around quite so freely.”
"Only because you saw Rose Walker as your duty," Desire shoots back, utterly ignoring Hob's plea for peace. "She would have meant nothing to you had she not threatened the Dreaming."
"As she meant nothing to you until you could weaponize her?"
"Oof, enough guys, c’mon—"
Anger flashes in Desire's honey-gold eyes, strong and sudden enough that it startles both the immortal humans. "Unlike you, Moron Morphy, I am here to accept my responsibilities, not run from them."
"Whoa now," Hob says, putting a steadying hand on Morphs' chest, which was starting to puff up like an angry pigeon. "Where is this coming from?"
"You left us!" Desire accuses, and Hob whips around to check the rest of the partygoers, but it seems like either they're very politely ignoring the shouting, or are magically oblivious to the mounting domestic squabble happening in the back corner of the garden. Well, that's one blessing, at least.
"Yes?" Morph says, tilting his head corvid-like, clearly confused about why that fact should upset Desire two years after the fact.
"You left! Just like Despair, when she died. Just like Delight, transmuting into Delirium. Just like Destruction! Death doesn't like me, Destiny is too busy for me, and now, now you're just … gone!" Desire shouts.
For a moment it seems like that’s where it will end, but then, out of nowhere, Desire’s whole face crumples. Tears as red as blood well in their eyes, rolling down their gaunt cheeks, and they suck on huge gouts of air. They seem as surprised as Hob is to find themselves crying. "Why does everyone leave me?"
Oh, Hob thinks. Oh, poor creature. This has been a long time coming.
He wraps gentle arms around Desire's shoulders and pulls them into his chest for a tight, grounding hug.
This family really, genuinely, honestly needs some hardcore therapy.
"My leaving was… was not about you," Morph struggles to say, meeting Hob's gaze over Desire's head and very clearly at an utter loss at what to do or say.
"Of course it wasn't," Desire sniffles. "You didn't even consider me. You always thought me lesser. But I am your sibling! I am just as important as you! I am just as powerful as you! And you… you cut me out of your realm, of yourself. But Desires and Dreams, we are so closely intertwined. I was your favourite. You doted on me and I…”
Morph tips forward, the creeping horror brought on by Desire's unexpected but nonetheless heartbreaking confession moving him to wrap himself around Desire's other side, sandwiching the Endless in the middle of a comforting Immortal group hug. Hob is so, so grateful that Harri has subjected Morph to enough of them over the last year that Morph feels comfortable initiating one.
Hob is reminded sharply of Morph's own tears, not so long ago, when recounting how cruel he felt his sister Death's attempts to understand his own mental anguish had been. One glance at his husband makes it clear that Morph is likely thinking about the same.
"Oh, my sibling," Morph croons into Desire’s ear, petting their destroyed pompadour back off their sweaty forehead. "I am sorry I made you feel lesser. I am sorry I did not treat you with the respect and care you deserved."
Hardcore, super epic, weapons-grade therapy, Hob thinks morosely. As Vassal I can ask favours of my lieges in return. This is gonna be my first one: Group. Fucking. Therapy.
"I'm sorry too," Desire hiccups, like the words are being torn from their guts by a hot poker. "I made a mistake with Killalla, and I admit to it now. It was cruel and malicious of me, but I truly did not understand the consequences of the game. I was young, Dream. I was a child. Her desire was but a toy. Anyone's desire, not just hers and yours. I did not comprehend, then, that desire denied becomes despair. I did not realize that in breaking your toy you would refuse to accept any other I handed you."
"Killalla was not a toy," Morpheus growls.
"I know that! I know that now, " Desire amends, frustrated. They push back from Hob's chest, jaw set with determination to be understood. "But I was young. I was stupid! I was little more than the sum of my Function. You remember what that was like, what it meant to be consumed only by what you were, and not who you are."
Morph hesitates, and then just nods, slowly and sagely, and only once.
"I tried to make it up to you, but you spurned desire. You spurned love. You spurned happiness. You hurt Nuala, and Calliope, and Hob." Desire cuts a hand at Hob, who blinks in stunned confusion. "Over and over again, you spat on my gift! On me!"
"Morpheus never spurned me," Hob protests. "I mean, I never made a move on him. And he barely liked me until the last few decades, right?" He turns to Morpheus, who looks equal parts guilty and hurt. "Wait, right?"
"Oh, Hobsie, you're an idiot," Desire sniffles, wiping their face clean and laughing at him all at once. "I was in that tavern too, that day. In my way. I felt the way he looked at you, the way you looked at him. If you'd both been human, you'd have fucked in the alley behind the White Horse within the hour!"
"You what?" Hob asks, feeling a bit like he's been struck between the eyes with a wet fish. He turns his dazed attention to his husband. "You wanted me, even then?"
"Physically," Morpheus says. "I see no point in denying it. I found you attractive, in your brutish, smelly, hairy way."
"Oh, gee, thanks," Hob gulps out, wondering if a time will ever come when he isn't going to have his whole understanding of the universe tipped on its head every time he hangs out with a different celestial or infernal or Endless being.
"Animal lust," Morpheus dismisses. "Easily ignored."
"Wow, babe, that makes it so much better when you put it like that."
"Except it wasn't easily ignored," Desire says, hands flying through the air as they describe patterns that Hob could never hope to comprehend. "I could see it all, laid out clear as a star-chart. Robert Gadling, human and so curious, so hopeful, so full of sunlight—streaked in his hair, kissed on his skin, streaming from his soul—"
"Hey now, I'm right here," Hob mutters, feeling his ears burning.
"And you, big brother, too stupid to know a good thing when you saw it. I could see how this would end. Here. Like this. And Death agreed with me. So we—" They snap their fingers. "Destiny took me through his garden, you know, while you and Death were visiting humanity, we walked the labyrinth and he told me of the possibilities. Of what would happen to Dream of the Endless, if Hob Gadling died with a mugger’s sword in his gut on the road to Essex."
Hob's stomach roils. Is that the death that had been meant for him?
"Or, if Hob had been granted his wish, but you two dunderheads hadn't acted on your mutual desire. If Hob remained only your friend, met and desired and resisted every hundred years. It was… it is not a good ending, Dream. It's not a good ending for… for a lot of people," Desire finishes on a contrite whisper. "Instead of leaving, you died. You died stupidly. So Hob was my peace offering. But still you turned away from your desire for him, and from me."
"Wait, you giftwrapped me for him?" Hob asks, his blood running cold all of a sudden.
"I was, what, a kitten you picked out of a litter and put a bow on? Did I have any say in this? Did you make me fall for him? I… mean, I—"
"Oh, for god's sake," Desire snipes. "I can't make people love where they don't already feel attraction, any more than Death can take you before your time. All that lust you suffered all those years, banked or otherwise, that was all you, Hobsie Baby. Everything you feel now, that's you.”
"That's a… that's a relief," Hob admits.
“All I did was make sure you two simpletons actually did something about it.”
“How?” Morph asks, an adorable look of confusion wrinkling his forehead.
Desires snorts, throwing back their shoulders and preening at their own cleverness. “Did you really think all those flowers spontaneously blossoming all around you without your conscious directive was an accidental side effect of you realizing you were catching feelings?”
The shock, understanding, frustration, anger, and then acceptance that chase each other across Morph’s face is both amusing and worrying. Hob wonders if he’s going to have to literally get in between them to prevent an all out hair-pulling, claw-raking cat fight. Morph’s expression, however, settles on tender gratitude.
"Then I thank you, my sibling," Morph says, voice a strained rumble. He reaches blindly for Hob's hand, and Hob obliges. He squeezes three times— I love you. Morph squeezes three times in return. "I should hate to begrudge or resent my greatest joy because of your interference, sibling."
"No, no, of course not," Desire hastens to reassure them. "I didn't want that. I've never wanted that. All I wanted is for you to respect me, to respect what I do, to accept the gift of my function the way you forced me to accept yours. You shut yourself away from desire forever and you left me alone to dream about a day when you'd just pay attention to me again.” They huff. “And of course, you took the easy out. Now you’ve left and I'll never—you'll never—"
"Hold up," Hob entreats again. "You're forgetting that Dream of the Endless isn't gone, though. He's right there."
He gestures across the yard to where baby Daniel is gleefully banging together two wooden blocks, to the accompaniment of Harri and Lyta singing a little ditty about a family of sharks.
"Erasti, what are you…?"
"Look, for my first quest as Vassal, Destiny told me to fix the bonds of family." Hob confesses. “I haven’t said anything before because I didn’t want to jinx it.”
Morph looks thoughtful. Desire just nods, not entirely sure where Hob is going with this.
"Well, you're part of this family, Desire. You deserve to have a bond not only with the Walkers, but with the Halls, too. Daniel is Rose's godson, which makes him your honorary great-grandchild, as well as your new little brother.” Hob grins, feeling very clever indeed. “In which case, Desire of the Endless, I bet you that you are going to be the best older sibling an Endless could ever want."
So it’s a bit dirty, to challenge Desire to a wager, but Hob thinks it’s totally fair to pull out all his big guns if he’s going to have to keep playing shrink. Forget ‘vassal’, call me Hob Gadling, Family Therapist of the Endless.
Desire's eyes grow wide with understanding, and they whip around turn to stare hungrily at the toddler.
"Dream will need your help, sibling," Morph adds persuasively. "And your support, if he's to avoid our errors, and become a good balance between who he is as a person and the sum of his Function. You must, ah, set him up for success."
"That is true," Desire says, their swaggering self-confidence surging back. “And I will be very good at it.”
The shark song complete, Morph takes the opportunity to break out of whatever protective bubble Desire had cast over the three of them. He sweeps over to the picnic blanket and scoop Daniel into his arms. This causes the little boy to accidentally drop his blocks. Which, in turn, causes Daniel to burst into sudden, red-faced tears.
"Wait, little Prince," Morph sputters. "I did not mean to—"
“You really do have to ruin everything you touch, don’t you Morphy?” Desire teases, sashaying over to pluck Daniel out of Morph's arms. Desire plops inelegantly onto the blanket between Lyta and Harri, legs splayed and baby cuddled close before Lyta can even react.
“Excuse me!” Lyta gasps, “Who are–”
“It’s okay,” Hob says hastily, rushing over to reassure. “It’s okay. They’re one of us. One of them.”
Lyda stops mid-lunge and settles back, sparing a glance at Hob.
He's fine, Hob mouths to her, and she takes him at his word.
Daniel immediately stops crying. His eyes spark emerald in the way that Hob has come to learn means that Dream is closer to the surface of his Waking mind than usual. Clearly Desire catches the spark of Dream surfacing to peer through Daniel's eyes, too, because their chin starts to wobble.
"Oh," Desire says, heartsblood red tears springing up along their bottom lids, absolutely verklempt. "Hello, little Dream." Daniel places his chubby palms gently, solemnly on Desire's cheekbones. Desire sucks in a shaky, hopeful breath. "My name is Desire, and I am your older sibling. Don't tell any of the others, but you, little creature…" They nuzzle their red-red-red lips against his sweet plump cheek and whisper: "You are going to be my favourite."
The End
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