I like to think that we would lose against Daenerys, though. In fact I like to think that C&A would lose against pretty much anyone in Game of Thrones. They are too nice, too trusting and occasionally too sane.
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Tumblr is so weird like tf you mean thereâs no follower count??? No algorithm??? And nobody here is follower hungry????? No censorship on swear words??? Yet nobody abuses slurs???? Itâs just peaceful fandom and shitposts???
Dreamâs a bony little mf, but heâs also Endless, which makes him immensely stronger than any brawny human. Hob realises that the first time he hugs Dream and he stays still like a coat stand, so Hob goes, âMate, you can actually touch me, weâve known each other for half a millenniaââ And Dream, desperately touch starved after seventy years locked away in Burgessâ basement pulls him into a bone crushing bearhug that sweeps Hob off the ground and quite possibly fractures a rib.
Dreamâs embarassed.
Hobâs in love.
Things escalate quickly after that. Hob struggling to open a jar of Bonne Maman? Dream pops it open with his thumb for him like a frat boy a Bud Light. Flat tyre? Dream lifts Hobâs Honda Civic like a single grape. Hob gets some nasty glares at Sainsburyâs when people see his âpoor fragile boyfriendâ carry six bags of groceries after him, but he stopped caring about what people thought of him in his early 200s.
âItâs ridiculous,â Hob says, well into his cups when theyâre both at the New Inn again (he no longer has to wait a century for that, they meet every Thursday). âYou donât even have a bicep, man!â
âIâm not a man,â Dream deadpans. âIâm Endless.â
âDo you even lift?â
Dream raises an aristocratic eyebrow, but aside from that doesnât deign that with an answer.
âI canâtâ Fuck, I canât believe it,â Hob says before he slams his arm on the table, elbow bent. âCome on, I bet you canât beat me at arm wrestling.â
Dream only gives Hob a flat stare.
âI was champion back in Basildon! Twice!â Dream continues to watch Hob in silence, unfazed, so Hob decides itâs time to revert to dirty tactics. âIf you wonât, Iâll tell Matthew youâre a coward.â
Dream bends his skinny twig of an arm, his hand, cold and smooth as marble gripping Hobâs.
âName the stakes,â he says and Hob grins.
âIf I win, youâll buy me dinner â not here, at an expensive place,â Hob says, which is a rather simple request as far as such deals with the likes of Dream went â and yet it made something in Dreamâs chest flutter.
âAre you sure thatâs what youâd waste your wish on should you triumph over someone my power and station?â he asks and Hobâs neck flushes a lovely shade of pink.
âIâm a simple man.â He shrugs. âAnd I canât imagine anything better than to spend the evening with you, my friend.â He looks up at Dream then, expectantly. âAnd you? What are your demands?â
Dreamâs still taken aback by his admission for a moment, but then he leans closer, dark eyelashes fluttering as he measures Hob up from his rolled up sleeves to the dip of his neck above his collarbones until finally, his gaze settles on his mouth. Dream could think of a thing or two he would demand indeed.
âShould I win, Iâd like you to satisfy my interest with regards of you if youâre amenable,â he says, his voice a low purr of something feline and lethal lurking in the night.
âYour interest in me or my experience?â Hob grins, remembering all too well a similar conversation they had back in 1489.
âYouâre a reasonably intelligent man for a human, Hob Gadling, I presume you can make an educated guess.â
âReasonably intelligent for a human,â Hob echoes dryly and rolls his shoulders. âVery well, letâs see how this âreasonably intelligentâ man can do against you, your nibs.â
Dreamâs eyes narrow at the moniker in annoyance, but he doesnât say anything just squares his shoulders, mirroring Hobâs posture.
Although heâs not the most powerful being in Creation, Dream of the Endless is a formidable force. The laws of physics donât quite bind him the same they do mortals, not even outside of his realm â the power in him is older than gravity itself, his hands wielding a strength enough to tear out the fundament of the Earth and grind it into nothing, but sand. Dream flexes his hand, their palms pushing together for a fraction of a moment, his fingers, cold a bony against Hobâs, calloused and burning hotâ
Then Hob darts forward and kisses Dream flat on the mouth.
Dreamâs spine stiffens in surprise and heâs distracted just long enough for Hob to slam his hand onto the table.
âHah!â Hob cries triumphantly, once they part with a wet sound, his lips spit-slick and his smile brilliant. âYou can take the boy out of Basildon, but you canât take Basildon out of the boy!â He flexes his arms and Dream stares at him in disbelief.
Hob stands then and pats his shoulder.
âI expect to have my dinner tomorrow, 8 oâclock sharp,â he says, grinning and he grabs his jacket. âI hope your celestial credit cardâs not issued by American Express â they donât take that in the Ritz.â
Dream watches Hob leave in silence. He knows he should feel humiliated and protest the validity of Hobâs triumph, but of all times heâd been tricked and defeated he finds he minds this time the least.
He raises his hand to his lips, still warm from Hobâs kiss and smiles.
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