"Hmm... Professor Gadling?"
"Yes love?"
"Just thinking about how ironic your profession is."
Hob smiled, reaching out to ruffle the hair of the endless in his lap. "Oh? And why is that?"
Morpheus smiled too, more than usual at least. He rolled over to look up at the human. He hadn't been paying attention to the TV anyways. "When I met you, you were a simple peasant with childish dreams of never dying and now-"
"And now I'm a college professor with the dream of my life watching tv from my lap." He gave Morpheus that radiating smile of his that he knew the endless so loved.
"Oh? The dream of your life?" Morpheus teased, not so secretly really pleased. He reached a hand up (the other was resting across his stomach while his legs dangled over the armrest (it was a really small couch)). This hand made its way, creeping and slow, up the man's chest and neck, brushing his lips before cradling his chin.
Hob could barely focus enough to formulate a response. "Yes...that's...you..."
Morpheus smiled again, winning. "And?" He moved his fingers, one at a time, across the lips of the flustered immortal.
"I... Morpheus, let me think!" He grabbed the endless' hand, pulling it away with some reluctance. Morpheus stared at his hand trapped within Hob's, somewhat saddened by its imprisonment. "Now... What were you asking?"
Morpheus looked back into the other's eyes, his smile melting back into place. "Tell me your dreams, little immortal."
Hob laughed. "I dream of making a difference. Of living life to its fullest. Of you." Morpheus chuckled at this. "And, least important, I dream of having killed Shakespeare while I had the chance!"
The chuckle came to a startled end. Morpheus sat up and spun so that he was facing Hob. "You still hold a grudge?"
Hob nodded. "Damn straight I do. You left our date with him!"
"Date?" Morpheus raised an eyebrow.
"Don't start that again. Yes, it was a date and you very well knew that when you left with that bastard poet!"
"He was one of the greatest poets I have ever had the pleasure of working with."
"Working with? Greatest? Pleasure!? Does that mean what I think it does?"
Morpheus shrugged. "Depends," he answered cryptically, infuriating the immortal.
"Depends on what?" Hob huffed.
"It depends," Morpheus answered slowly. "On what you think it means."
Then he kissed him. Slow and teasing, before pulling away. Hob sighed, eyes lingering on the endless' lips.
"And what was that supposed to mean?"
Morpheus stood, eliciting an angry huff from the immortal.
"It means that I," He put a hand on his chest. "Dream of the endless, love you," He grabbed Hob's hand. "Hob Gadling of the professors." And with a tender gentleness, he brought Hob's hand to his lips, brushing his fingers with a kiss.
"Oh. That's better."
"Yes, my love. Never have I said such words to our dear Sir William Shakespeare. Although..." He trailed off with a smirk.
"You little-"
"I have business to attend to in the dreaming, though it pains me to leave you, precious Hob. Thank you for showing me what humans do when they don't have to work."
Hob shrugged off his anger, acting quick to keep his lover near. "Come on, love, take the weekend off. Your subjects aren't going anywhere."
But Morpheus had already pulled out his bag of sand, upending it so as to let the grains fall to his feet.
"Morhpeus, please stay."
The Dream Lord shook his head, the sand swirling up around him and taking him away. "Goodbye, my love..."
"See you tonight, dreamy," Hob said with a pout and a sigh. He grabbed the remote from the nearby table, then flipped through the channels till he landed on one with actors in cheesy Victorian costumes. While he was watching, he found it impossible to concentrate. His mind kept drifting to imagine his Morphues with that blasted poet Shakespeare.
And such musings filled him with jealous rage.
So distracted was Hob that it took him far too long to realize he was watching a reenactment of some Shakespeare play!
"Fuck," he mumbled, flipping off the actors in memory of the creator. Then he grabbed the remote, slamming buttons till he found the off switch that spelled the show's doom.
"Shakespeare, you bastard," he growled, throwing the remote at the wall. It didn't break, thankfully. That would have been a disaster to explain to Morpheus. "What did you and my boyfriend do?"
Hob thought, though he swore he wasn't dreaming, that he heard the King of Dream's laughter echoing in his ears.
