LiLee of the Valley

Close,” Ilya says, pushing a cutting board and six Roma towards him. “I need these chopped. Recipe calls for tomatoes crushed.”

Hollander blinks down at the board and then up at Ilya, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, but if the recipe calls for them crushed…?”

“I have seen how you chop tomatoes, Hollander,” Ilya says, flashing him a smirk before he focuses back on his own pile of shallots. “Is close enough to crushed for my recipe.”

Hollander blinks again. “Asshole,” he says, but he relaxes a little bit. He rolls up his sleeves anyway and starts chopping Ilya’s Roma tomatoes.

But they share a house now. Things are different between them. And Ilya—Ilya wants.

“Okay,” Hollander says, quietly, like maybe he wants just as much as Ilya does. He fidgets by his cutting board of tomatoes. “Yeah, okay. Um. Is there anything I can help with then? For dinner?”

“No,” Ilya replies quickly, snatching the board of tomatoes away from Hollander and turning to place it on the counter behind him just so Hollander can’t see the relief spreading across his face. Shane is going to stay.

This is going to be the best penne alla vodka Ilya has ever fucking made in his life.

“Just sit there,” he says when he turns back around and picks up his knife, gesturing to the barstool. “Look pretty. Tell me about your day.”

When it is time to go back to Boston after the MLH gets its shit together, and he has to unlock his house and turn on the lights and no one is there to greet him and no one is there to smile at him and mangle his tomatoes and make faces when he pours them a generous taste of the liquor he bought for the pasta sauce and the only company he has will be the music he plays too loudly—it will be enough to have had this before and still have the memory of it.

--------

I tried to get good quality vodka. The store said this was Russian vodka. Later when I Googled it seemed like it was Russian, although no longer produced in Russia but in Latvia!!! Oh no Russia lost to Latvia at the Sochi Olympics in the Heated Rivalry universe! Get behind me Ilya, I'll protect you from Papa Grigory 😡. You know good vodka is hard to find here. I hope you approve! 😭

An hour in, Dream found himself sprawled belly-up on the hardwood floor. He’d found a mop and some all-purpose cleaner and took the liberty of mopping the floors at least, before the movers arrived. Matthew was tip-tapping around, inspecting the place and surely growing bored, fluttering occasionally to perch on a window sill before discovering he was blocked off with a screen. Dream was glad to have brought some spare clothes with him on the long train ride, changing out his t-shirt for a threadbare sleep shirt with the arm holes cut all the way past his ribcage, optimal for airflow. He discarded his pants entirely, leaving his boxer shorts on and pulling a headband over his forehead to keep his fringe from sticking to his forehead.

Starfished on the floor, as it were, Dream stared up at the ceiling, which blessedly sported a dusty, unused fan to move the stagnant air. He had also found an old desk fan, left behind from the previous tenant, which he plugged into and pointed directly at his face. There had also been an ice cube tray in the freezer, so Dream poured himself a large glass of tap water (eugh), and loaded it with ice.

Dream closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and listening to Matthew’s talons clicking against the wood grain as he hopped around.

“Matthew…” Dream groaned, knocking on the floor. “Stop your fussing.”

A sound of tap, tap, tap, and fluttering wings came over Dream, Matthew landing somewhere near his head and tip-tapping along.

Dream cracked one eye open and looked down to see Matthew’s beak plunged into his ice water.

“That’s mine…” Dream grumbled with no heat, letting his head thunk back onto the floor.

Knock, knock, knock.

The obvious sound of someone at the door startled both Dream and Matthew, the latter who cawed and ruffled his wings in surprise.

Dream propped himself up on his elbows, staring incredulously at the door for a moment, then two… until two more knocks came, more hesitant than the first, but still loud enough to echo around the empty flat.

Dream slowly pulled himself up. It must be the landlord, he reasoned, padding across the room to the door, turning the dead bolt free and flicking the handle lock to twist and pull it open.

Dream audibly caught his breath. It was not the landlord.

Before him stood a man, maybe a little older than him, with shaggy brown hair, a gorgeous smile that made his brown eyes shine behind clear-framed glasses, and an awkward laugh that had Dream’s lips unconsciously twitch upwards.

“Hi! Wow, um…” he began, the flash of confidence when Dream had opened the door vanished, instead the stranger suddenly appeared… bashful.

“I– I saw you come in, a while ago, and wanted to welcome you to the building! I live right above you, and no one has lived here in a while, so when I heard signs of life, I– well–”

A slow smile had begun creeping up Dream’s face. Watching this man– gorgeous man– get flustered and ramble on while performing a greeting ritual that no one did anymore, was extremely endearing.

“Anyway, uh, this is for you!”

Dream finally looked down and found he was holding out a single chocolate cupcake on a decorated tea saucer.

“Thank you…?” Dream took the offering with a lilt in his voice, hedging for more from his new neighbor. 

“Oh, Hob! My name is Hob. Gadling.” And then he stuck a hand out, which Dream only paused for a moment to inspect before transferring the pastry to one hand to take Hob’s with the other.

“Dream.”

“Dream?” Hob raised his brows, interest clear on his clean-shaven face, a hint of stubble growing back on his chin and up his jawline. “Pretty name.”

A warm, pleasant feeling bloomed in Dream’s stomach at the compliment, but he bites his tongue as to not show it. 

“Thank you,” he opts for, speaking softly and looking down at the cupcake once their clasped hands drop. “Ah, I would invite you in for some tea, but my movers have yet to arrive.”

Hob peeks over his shoulder and finally notices how barren the room is.

“Oh, that’s awful. And you don’t have an air con?” At Dream’s headshake, Hob shifts his weight from one foot to the other, tipping his head in thought. “D’ya wanna come up to mine?”

Hob asks this with open hands, palms up, surrendering himself, making it obvious that Dream can say no without a question.

Matthew takes that moment to hop over and stare up at Hob from Dream’s feet.

“Oh! Wild, I thought I heard a bird,” Hob laughs. “Birdie is also welcome, my space is cat-free and I’m sure he– she? would enjoy the cool air as well.”

“Matthew is a he…” Dream confirms, drumming his fingers on the underside of the small plate and looking down at Matthew. “And we will gladly take up your offer of hospitality.”

The way Hob smiles reminds Dream of a golden retriever and the shine of it makes him look back down at his raven, hoping to calm his sudden erratic heart beating. Matthew only meets his gaze, the twinkle in his black eyes all-knowing and slightly judgy.

“Fantastic!” Hob declares. “I’ll head back up– take your time uh, if you wanna get changed or…” and it’s only now that Hob’s gaze drops and Dream tucks a knee in self-consciously, forgetting he’d answered the door in nothing but his underwear and a worn old shirt. 

Hob’s mouth is stuck open for only a second, just long enough for Dream’s neck to heat up from the attention, before Hob’s head snaps back up, his hands suddenly fidgeting.

“Or, whatever! As long as you're comfy,” he tugs absentmindedly on his earlobe. “No pressure. Um, I’ll see you soon. My apartment is 6A, just above you. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Dream nods and Hob walks off with a final farewell and a friendly smile. He closes the door and lets out a long breath, tugging at his shirt and ignoring how Matthew pecks at his ankles impatiently. 

Dream puts the lone cupcake in the fridge, taking the time also to open the freezer and stick his head in to cool off. The heat from earlier has only grown after his brief interaction with Hob. And Dream knows the feeling all too well… he has always been prone to getting attached far too easily, and quickly. His siblings would always tease him about it. But Dream is determined, this time, to keep it friendly. Hob is his neighbor, he is generous and sweet, Dream doesn’t need the first connection he makes in London to be immediately scared away by his intense feelings. Platonic or not.

Be cool, Dream reminds himself, wondering how one exactly was meant to go about that, as he prepared himself to head upstairs.

Hob had an entire tray of freshly baked cupcakes, it turned out. Dream could smell the chocolate outside his flat before he knocked politely, despite the offer of the unlocked door.

Hob’s abode was cluttered in a cozy way. He had mismatched pillows on his lumpy couch with a colorful throw blanket over the top, two bookshelves stacked with books, which Dream immediately gravitated towards as Hob puttered around, being a good host and setting up sweets and iced tea for the two of them.

He had copies of famous prints in various sizes upon his walls, nestled in cheap black or white frames that had obviously been thrifted. The windows had no blinds, but instead were covered in thick, brown drapes. Black-out curtains, most likely. Dream had the same kind, in black though. Waking up to the sunlight was not something Dream appreciated.

It is still classified as a bachelor pad, if Dream’s assumption of such a place holds true. There was no rug on the worn, scraped up hardwood floor, but a messy coffee table in front of a large TV with one gaming console next to it.

“Do you prefer sweet? For your tea?”

Dream nods and seats himself on the couch, which was softer than it looked. Hob joins him, setting down first a cupcake for each of them and heading back for the beverages, perspiration dripping down the tall glasses that clinked with ice.

“I might have some peanuts for your raven…” Hob says as Matthew flutters onto the table and attempts to steal a bite of their pastries.

Dream shoos Matthew away while Hob leaves once more to procure a bag of shelled peanuts, pouring them into a bowl and setting it on the coffee table, so he could eat with them. Dream smiles behind his glass, silently pleased about the inclusion.

Dream had already slipped his shoes off, and curled up into a corner of the couch, holding his iced tea with both hands as Hob kept the space between them filled with conversation.

He sat a respectable distance from Dream, never allowing him to feel awkward or intrusive. 

Though, a small, bold part of him does wish Hob would sit closer… if only so Dream could describe exactly the earthy, almost spicy aroma that suffused his person. Was it a cologne? A body wash or shampoo? It was enough to make Dream’s mouth water, shamelessly keeping his gaze fixed to Hob as he spoke, his own eyes darting everywhere and the hand not holding his drink gesticulating.

Hob mentions the university he attends as a sophomore, to which prompts Dream to admit that he’d moved here to attend the same school as a freshman. This gets Hob’s eyes to light up anew, relaxing that much more into his seat as they trade their studies (Dream a lit major with a minor in poetry, and Hob a classics major, a focus on ancient world history). Which got them talking about their favorite writers and historical figures, sharing an interest in ancient Greek and Roman religions, language, and architecture. 

When they circle back to the university itself, Hob suggests finding Dream on campus once the semester begins next month to help him around and show him all the best spots, as well as exchange class schedules. Dream is unable to fight down the delighted smile at this, agreeing and appreciating the assistance, to which Hob only shrugs and offers a cheeky grin, mentioning something about how large the campus is and how it’s easy to get lost.

Something very obvious dawns on Dream… he typically isn’t this comfortable in the presence of an obvious extrovert, a stranger at that, but Hob proves himself a perfect gentleman and host, keeping himself tame, only pulling Dream into the conversation with simple questions and gauging his reaction– his endurance for prolonged dialogue. It was incredibly intuitive of Hob… and very patient. Dream wasn’t used to this much patience afforded to him.

Has Dream made a friend? The thought alone makes him giddy. 

Time goes by far too quickly. Hob has Dream snickering unattractively to a stupid joke while a Netflix show plays quietly in the background, when his phone pings with a notification.

Dream remembers all at once the reason why he was outside his apartment, taking refuge in a neighbor’s flat. He asks for a moment, taking up his phone and opening up the email thread from the moving company.

Hob waits patiently, and can probably see the way Dream’s brows pinch in irritation.

“What’s wrong?”

“The mover’s arrival has been postponed until ‘further notice.’” Dream scoffs, barely able to keep down the petulant way he wants to throw something.

He stands, aggressively mashing the company’s number into the keypad and bringing the phone to his ear.

Dream can feel Hob’s eyes on him as he turns and argues with the poor receptionist, or whomever, on the other line. It’s not her fault, Dream knows, he just needs something to take his frustrations out on.

He hangs up with a long sigh through his nose, staring at Hob’s bookshelf, focusing on a copy of Giovanni’s Room. The spine looks broken.

“You okay?”

Dream sighs again, his shoulders going with it as he taps his cell phone against his palm.

“Movers won't be here until tomorrow morning.”

“You’re shitting me.” Hob has stood up, Dream can feel him closing in and so turns to face him properly.

“Unfortunately not…” Dream tries not to look at Hob’s eyes– too caring for an individual he’d only know for a couple hours. “I’ll have to look into temporary lodging.”

Hob blinks, silent for a moment as Dream settles back down onto the couch and pulls up the maps app to search for an affordable room for the night.

“You mean like a hotel?” Hob asks, sitting down next to Dream, closer than before.

“Well,” Dream huffs. “Hopefully one that will accept Matthew…”

He can feel Hob fidgeting next to him.

“I mean, if it’s not too forward, you’re welcome to take the couch for the night.”

Dream looks sideways and Hob gestures to where they are seated, if his proposal wasn’t obvious enough.

“Oh…” heat begins to rise up Dream’s neck. “That’s very kind. But I wouldn’t impose–”

“Definitely not an imposition,” Hob nearly declares, laughing sheepishly for interrupting Dream. “I mean– we’re neighbors! And soon to be classmates, kind of. At least, I’ll certainly see you around campus…” Hob trails off, his brow furrowing, searching for more to ramble about. 

Dream bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling. It’s very endearing.

“And hey! I can provide breakfast in the morning, for free!” Hob winks and laughs at himself.

Dream is almost offended at how one man could be so charming. He can’t imagine Hob is a single man, with so much generosity and affection to throw around.

And with an unfairly attractive face and wide, masculine arms and hands. Dream swallows.

“Wouldn’t your… partner disapprove of a stranger spending the night?”

“Pfft–” Hob rolls his eyes. “Mate, does it look like I got a girl, or a guy, for that matter?” He waves half-heartedly around his messy living space. “You don’t know this about me yet, but if I had a partner, I’d be living with them.”

He chuckles to himself, his gaze elsewhere, thinking about an inside joke, or a jab perhaps, that he’d been told off for before.

Dream thinks he gets it… he’s the same way. He’s heard the same, “You’re so young, why are you rushing?” from both his siblings and his parents… followed by the inevitable “told you so.”

Matthew chooses then to fly up to the arm of the couch, next to Dream.

“Well…” Dream looks toward Matthew and strokes a knuckle down his long, silky neck. “I suppose I must say yes, then.”

The smile that stretches across Hob’s face could be in toothpaste commercials. “Awesome.”

—--------------------

They leave the flat shortly after, both agreeing that it was time for food and that it was too hot to cook, and so Hob led them into the tube and out towards a cafe that stayed open late, boasting the “Best Sandwiches This Side of the Thames!”

“Oh I can’t wait to show you around, Dream,” Hob says around the food in his mouth, swallowing and taking a gulp of water. “London can be overwhelming for the country folk, but you get used to it.”

Dream had divulged where he had moved from, and admitted he’d never even visited London, the only major city he’d seen was Nottingham, and that was for a year 8 trip. He was obviously still young, of course. Dream had been told by his tutors and classmates alike that he came across much older than he actually was… Dream wasn’t yet sure if that was a compliment.

“Are you saying this because you, too, have been raised in a conservative bubble?”

Hob chuckles softly as he sets his food down and rubs the crumbs from his fingers. 

“Quite the opposite– I don’t mean to tease. It’s only what I’ve heard from those around me.”

“Mm…” Dream hums, sipping on his lime soda. “Are you the bad influence who gets his friends to sneak out and perform petty crimes? Smoke weed under the bridge?”

Hob smirks and leans forward on his elbows. “Would you like that?”

Dream bites down on his straw. “Perhaps… I need a little adventure in my life.”

“You are a bad influence upon yourself,” Hob jokes, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is that why you came all the way down here from Chesterfield? Are you running away?”

Dream takes a moment, his smile fading. “Something like that.”

Dream would be lying if he didn’t admit how frightening this entire situation was… not just moving, but deciding to go alone to London, managing to get into UCL, leaving his overbearing parents and his siblings who were his closest friends.

Dream was meek, unconfrontational, and he knew the only way out was by force. He forced himself to apply to universities at least 100 miles away from his childhood. He forced himself to tune out his mother’s yelling and his father’s silence. He forced himself to be happy when University College of London accepted his application… and he forced himself to pay out of pocket for the moving costs.

Now Dream was broke and he’d cheaped out on a moving company that might never get him his things. He’d signed a lease for a flat that he hadn’t even seen in person, and moved to London with barely any research, let alone having any contacts to reach out to.

He felt foolishly lucky to have run into Hob… he almost didn’t trust it. But Hob felt genuine. He was goofy and talkative and polite in a natural way, not in a way that anticipated something in return.

He might also be the empathetic type, if the way Dream’s sudden silence prompts Hob to take over the conversation without a hint of awkwardness. He tells Dream about his upbringing, how he’d grown up just on the outskirts of London, a two hour train ride away. How his father taught him to be humble and his mum to be strong before she passed away 7 years ago.

Night falls quickly and they are booted from the cafe, so Hob walks Dream down the cobblestone path along the river, hands in his jean’s pockets as he continues to fill the space between them with words that get Dream smiling again, opening back up, and trading barbs that get both of them snickering.

It’s late when they get back to Hob’s flat. Matthew caws indignantly and for the first time, Hob worries about the raven’s bathroom situation.

Dream opens his backpack to grab his toiletries, taking longer in the bathroom than Hob with his night routine, but when he comes out, Hob is placing one extra pillow on the couch and looks over, his gaze stuck, suddenly.

Dream is dressed for bed, which means he’s back in his underwear and threadbare shirt. He feels awkward, suddenly, appearing so disheveled in his new friend’s home–

But Hob looks away first, the lighting in the room is too low to discern any expression on his face, but he doesn’t say anything about Dream’s lack of attire.

Which is just as well. Dream shuffles over to the couch as soon as Hob’s back is turned towards him, and he can slip under the thin duvet.

Hob comes back from turning off the kitchen light, so now it’s just a standing lamp next to the couch that Dream can adjust whenever.

“Comfy?”

Dream hums, adjusting the soft pillow behind his shoulders so he’s sitting with his back against the armrest.

“It will do.”

Hob laughs softly. It’s becoming one of Dream’s favorite sounds.

“You’re not gonna smother me in my sleep, are you?”

Dream gives Hob an amused, but flat look.

“Is that what you’ve been so tense about?”

Hob huffs an amused breath, his jaw going slack.

It’s true though, Dream is pretty sure. Hob has been… antsy, since they’ve arrived back at his place. Jittery and laughing awkwardly at himself, as if he was nervous. About what, Dream isn’t sure.

But Dream is kind of nervous too… in an excited kind of way. He couldn’t have imagined today would have taken the turn it did… meeting Hob, connecting immediately, going out, walking along the water… on the outside, it seemed like a date. Which was silly, of course, they’d just met. The fact that Hob was gorgeous and funny and smart didn’t change the fact that he and Dream were still just acquaintances; neighbors getting to know each other.

Even if Dream had been sneaking extra glances at Hob tonight, or bumping into his shoulder during their walk, and casually bringing up the name of two of his exes, a woman and a man, just to see how Hob would react.

“No, not that…” Hob mumbles, his eyes drop, stuck on the floor. His hands are clasped awkwardly behind him as he stands at the end of the couch, near Dream’s feet.

Dream swallows, studying the movement of Hob’s gaze, how he sways side to side. He’s not the best at picking up social cues, but Dream is fairly certain that… Hob had been stealing glances at him, too.

Hob’s eyes flick back up, finding Dream’s instantly.

“In the morning, do you prefer tea or coffee?”

“Mm… coffee.”

“Ah, I only have tea,” Hob sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He’s mostly cast in shadow, but Dream can see the small smile at the corner of his mouth.

Dream smiles too. “Then why did you offer it?”

Hob shrugs. “I dunno… I’ll get you coffee though.”

Dream chews on his lower lip.

“Or…” Dream’s heart starts an anxious drum beat behind his ribs. “... we could go out for coffee.”

He tries to be confident when he offers it, but Dream’s voice sounds small in his ears and he swallows the flare of nerves that tickle inside his belly.

“Yeah?” Hob steps around the couch, leaning against the back of it, settling on his elbows.

Dream hums. “You can continue showing me around. I’m certain you have a favorite cafe.”

“I do,” Hob agrees quietly. The rasp of his voice makes Dream’s toes curl.

“Then it’s settled,” Dream speaks with a bit more confidence, making Hob chuckle again. Dream can’t remember the last time he made someone laugh this much– without malice. It's addicting.

“Sounds good…” Hob’s gaze drops, looking at the bend of Dream’s knees under the duvet. “Y’know, I’m sorta glad your movers didn’t arrive.”

Dream’s belly flips excitedly, his lips parting of their own accord.

Hob looks back at Dream, his eyes still a little nervous, but also apologetic, and a little hopeful.

Dream swallows again, finding his courage before replying.