Fifty-erasers - Ah Yisssss

I don't think this is an uncommon headcanon based on the fics I've read, but I see Dream as casual about sex but very guarded against love and emotional intimacy. Perhaps best described as some flavor of pansexual but demiromantic. He's part of the human subconscious, sex would be nothing strange to him and it's enjoyable, but love? Well, he's been hurt too often by daring to love or care too much.

By contrast, Hob (because I can't write a Sandman meta post without it becoming about dreamling these days) I think loves very freely. He definitely has sex freely, we know that from 1389 and all the "women to swive". I think he gives his heart wholly to those he's with (based on the comic) but... there's always going to be the "but". But they can never really know him. For casual lovers, there'd be little point in bringing up the whole truth of who he is, but that makes living in the moment not just a personality quirk, but a necessity. Hob can't really share stories about where he grew up, or what it was like. He can't really go into detail about his past marriage and how it ended. He can't talk about his son dying at 20 with just anyone because he looks forever in his mid-30s and it might attract odd looks unless he successfully convinces people he's "older than he looks". Even if he does tell a lover the truth, that too is isolating, because he can't share the gift, and even if they don't want it, they still will never be able to fully grasp the life he's led. So, Hob can love freely, but no one will ever really know him.

I think this is why I (and other fic writers) see Hob and Dream falling into bed together before they really figure out how this changes their relationship. They're both adult men, fathers, and divorcees/widowers. They've both been shown to have lovers. They clearly flirted in 1789 and neither was averse, Dream was just ridiculously stuck on his 100 years conceit and maybe Hob wasn't blunt enough.

It's not the physical side Dream would shrink from, it's the emotional side. I think the wooing would have to be on Hob's side and Hob would have to make Dream see that he's allowed to have this. That he's allowed to have a lover who cares about him as a friend as well, who isn't some torrid love affair destined for great passion and greater tragedy. Because conversely, for Hob, Dream is the only person who will ever know him, truly know him, who he doesn't have to hide from, and who he can talk to about the last however many centuries because Dream was there too. There's really no one else. And I think that's why Hob would be patient, and understanding, though at some point perhaps push for Dream to see what's in front of him. Or perhaps not, given how much it means to Hob as well not to lose him.

Smoke Break

“You’re a fair bit quieter today than usual,” Hob says, soft and coaxing. “Can I do anything?”

Those four words make the back of his throat sting. He grits his teeth.

Hob knows. He always knows. He clocked Dream in 1389 and he’s only gotten better at reading him in the past 637 years. Dream couldn’t hope to hide anything from him now.

Dream looks down at his lap. Hob’s attention doesn’t waver.

“I lost Jessamy today,” he says. “One hundred years ago.”

“Oh, darling,” Hob breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

Dream shakes his head. He’s not sure why. It just feels right. Perhaps a last ditch effort to deny his greatest loss in the last century.

The tears come now as they did that day in 1926 — hot, silent, and choking. Hob remains beside him, a warm and comforting companion to his grief.

“I had ravens before her and now I have Matthew but she was at my side the longest. They would hang around fifty years or so before moving on and that was fine with me. She joined me just after we met in 1789.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Hob says, and that brings on a fresh wave of silent tears.

Jessamy would not have liked Hob at the beginning but he would have grown on her like he did Dream. They would have been friendly by 1789 but seeing Hob take down two hulking guards with naught but a teacup for threatening Dream would have solidified him in her good graces.

He tells Hob this and can’t help the trembling smile that pulls at his lips as Hob laughs.

Hob and Matthew get on like a 14th century inn on fire (thatched roofs!) but Jessamy would have come to love Hob as Dream does. She was slow to warm but that hesitance hid an expressive and warm interior like he.

Matthew enjoys the occasional cuddle on the sofa or in bed but usually prefers to bed down on his own. Jessamy, on the other hand, never let the opportunity for a cuddle go unseized. She was always preening her feathers to get them to lie flat after a good nap in Dream’s lap, arms, or nuzzled between his neck and the collar of his coat. She often chose that spot when he was sitting still for extended periods of time.

“I don’t want Matthew to change—I like him just as he is—but I can’t help—“ He falters, breath catching.

“You miss that connection,” Hob finishes. “It’s hard, adjusting to a new normal, and it takes time.”

Dream’s hand trembles as he reaches for Hob. He catches that shaking hand between his own and kisses the fingertips.

“She was in my coat when they captured me. Technically, she was in The Dreaming, but when they took everything away, she escaped through my coat,” he swallows. “She was the last being I touched for over a century.”

He doesn’t move away when Hob wipes a tear from his cheek.

“I never got to,” he chokes on his breath, “to touch her again.”

He does move away when Hob shifts but realizes belatedly he wasn’t trying to touch him, only angle his body differently. But Hob released his hand without hesitation when he retreated.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’ve nothing to apologize for,” Hob says easily. “Tell me more, anything.”

“Mervyn got a few of the more artistically inclined residents of The Dreaming together and had them paint a mural in my castle of my ravens. Jessamy’s picture is the largest of the bunch. I don’t know how they remembered what they all looked like. Lucienne probably recalls them all and assisted.”

“I’d love to see it sometime.”

Dream looks up to find Hob watching him. Hob smiles at him, sweetly, encouraging. He feels as if he could face anything if Hob simply smiled at him like that.

“Can I tell you about how she died?” He asks, voice and body shivering.

“Of course, my love.”

The strength in Hob’s eyes lends Dream a bit of his own. He’s not told anyone the details of Jessamy’s death since he returned. The grief was too fresh and then he had work to do and it seemed unimportant to bother anyone else with.

But Hob looks him in the eye and says, “Anything,” and Dream believes him.

Heart eyes Hob's version...

Dream exists - Hob *(。♥‿♥。)*