Archive of Our Own ^beta

A storm approaches.

If it wasn't evident by the dark, angry storm clouds hovering in the sky above, a deep shade of gray, swollen and heavy and waiting to burst at any moment. It would be by the restless sea. Rocking the White Horse- a pirate ship inhabited by one of the most feared pirate crews on this side of the globe. The ship creaked as it swayed uncontrollably nearly sending some of the crew members tumbling aboard. Running around like ants, they tried to move the sails in a position that would benefit them and help get them through the stormy night that creeped upon these rogue sailors. Furious waves hit the sides of the ship, soaking the main deck and tilting it, sending crewmen tripping over their own two feet- or, in some cases, foot and peg leg.

Captain of the ship, the elusive, death-defying Robert Gadling, or, as he’s more commonly known: Gadling the Undead, helped his crew with the ropes, catching one or two of the younger boys aboard commonly called powder monkeys by the ankle before they were sent plummeting into the sea when the ship got tossed, yelling at them to get into the crew’s quarters, where they’d be safer before going to help another one of his mates. The boys, obviously, do not obey. Wanting to help their fellow crewmates get the ship stable little did they know this was the worst storm Gadling had seen in years. And it hadn't even started raining yet.

“Shit! Gadlin’ we got company!” One of the gunners bellows from the bow; another ship was approaching on the horizon, as clear as day, Hob rushes over, holding onto one of the shrouds as he jumps onto the railing, it’d be a stupid move seeing as the whole ship had already been soaked by salty seawater, it’d be very easy to slip and fall into the raging ocean, but Gadling couldn't care less, he was called “undead” for a reason. Infamous for getting himself into trouble, mostly deadly trouble, doing things that, if he were an unluckier man, or maybe even a wiser one. He’d already have his rotting head on the bowsprit of a rival ship like the legendary Blackbeard himself.

Hob looks into the foggy horizon only to see his least favorite ship. “Bugger, not him again.” he sighs, jumping down from the railing and yelling to his crew “Avast, my crew! The Dreaming is nigh, to your posts! Remember what happened last time!” The pirates prepare for battle as their rival ship, The Dreaming, led by the man known as the Nightmare King, and his crew of ruthless hands. This was their third encounter just this year, and the last one had left with no men on either side badly injured nor dead, but promises of a different outcome next time they’d meet. And that’s what worried Hob.

A clap of thunder, and rain starts pouring down onto both Captains and their ships. In minutes, the wind and sea have become so strong, either men can barely control their ships, the brute force of the waves have the White Horse rising nearly horizontally as they are brought up and down by the sea. The potential war against the Nightmare King and his crew are forgotten as Gadling struggles to keep his own ship from sinking, The Dreaming is closer now, and from what he can see, they too are struggling to keep their own ship under control.

The Dreaming gets closer,

And closer..

And a little too close.

“Shit!” The Captain yells, it is almost completely drowned out by the increasing rain and wind. Another deafening clap of thunder, nothing to echo off of, nothing to muffle the roar.

Gadling rushes to the helm, taking the wheel from his crewmate and using all of his force to turn it away from the rapidly approaching enemy ship. “CHANGE THE SAILS!” He bellows to his crew below, attempting to be louder than the rain that made everything harder. And his throat burns with the effort. “THEY’VE LOST CONTROL! IF WE DON’T GET OUT OF THE WAY, WE’RE GOING TO-”

The impact makes the ship lurch sideways.

Gadling The Undead is sent tumbling over the edge, along with fellow crewmates, crates and anything else that was on the main deck of the White Horse.

He falls into the raging sea, his limbs being thrown around by the furious waves that crashed over him as he tried to slow down, trashing in a desperate, animal attempt to get his head over the surface. But any time he was successful, he’d get a glimpse of the two ships, colliding and sinking, he’d hear yelling, then another wave would fall right onto him, launching him into whatever direction the sea decided to take him that time.

When he’s able to emerge again, breathing in a lungful of much needed air, there's a boom. He sees fire as one of the ship’s sides blows, the other following in tandem where they are connected, the explosion sending more pieces of both ships flying. Creating another ripple through the water, and sending Gadling tumbling down once more.

He can hear more muffled sounds of distress, the waves that crashed over him nearly drowning them out entirely. He is able to grab onto a piece of debris, unsure whether it’s from his own ship or the enemy’s, he stays on it long enough to catch a few breaths, but it is soon yanked from his grasp due to yet another wave crashing right on top of him.

Eventually, he collides with something big, and hard.

And he feels his consciousness fade.

The sun beams down upon him.

Hot and ruthless, it engraves its light into his skull, making his head pound, his skin boil. Making his tongue feel like lead inside of his dry mouth. Gadling can barely open his eyes, his body is heavy, everything hurts; he manages to sit up and shield his vision from the blistering heat of the sun while his eyes grow accustomed to the new environment. What happened? he thinks, setting his head on his knees as he tries to avoid the nausea that bubbles up due to his sun induced headache. His senses slowly return, he’s sitting.. On sand. And he can hear the familiar sound of waves crashing on a shore, one or two seagulls that were probably circling above, waiting expectantly to find out if he was dead or not.

Lady luck seems to be on his side once more, because, yet again, he was not dead when he absolutely should’ve been.

After a few moments, once he’s feeling better enough to stand without falling face first into the sand, Gadling rises to his feet, getting a better look at his surroundings.
He did find himself, in fact, at a shore. One he did not recognize, with wooden debris all around, some on land, and some.. Still floating in the water…

The ship.

A broken noise escapes his lips as the realization sinks in slowly. His stomach sinks to his feet as he feels the bitterly familiar taste of bile in his mouth.

He falls to his knees, eyes burning as he is too dehydrated to cry a single tear. The White Horse had been passed down from his father to him, his father had also been a well-known pirate, teaching Robert, or Hob, which was what his father called him, all he knew before getting executed when Hob had just reached adulthood.

The White Horse was all he had left of his father. And he’d lost it to the sea. Along with his crew, that he’d known for so long, gone through so much with, and gained their trust as a captain.

He’d just lost everything to what he gave everything for, all he knew, all his father knew: the tumultuous and unpredictable Caribbean.

Hob mourns, for what seems like hours. Blinded by his grief, he does not notice the seagull until it squawks in his ear and he’s startled back into the present due to the continuous throbbing of his head. Right, right, he’s stranded.
He rises back to his feet, not caring to dust off the dry sand as he started to walk along the shore gathering what could be of use. It hurt, but he looked at the sun judging how much time he had to find a water source and build a camp with what he could find so he wouldn’t die of dehydration nor freeze to death.

He cursed the nice weather under his breath, he couldn’t have been out for too long, so how in god’s name can one night storm so hard it took out his beloved ship and crew and the other be bright and sunny like nothing had happened? He was furious, and exhausted and sore. But he pushed through, gathering what he could and venturing into the small sandy forest on the island to find some space in the shade to build a campsite.
The thickets weren’t too dense, per se, but unpleasant to walk in, Hob had luckily retained both of his boots, albeit humid on the insides. He wouldn’t be stepping on any thorns nor scraping his ankles on them anytime soon.

Hob finds a good spot, and clears it out a bit with the help from a knife he had concealed under his clothes, which by another stroke of luck, hadn’t been washed away when he washed up on the island.
He goes on to scavenge whatever he can find around, pieces of driftwood along the beach, glass, fabric, anything he thought could be useful sooner or later, he gathers it and takes it back to the little camp he’s made for himself.
Hob also takes a look at himself, and his own body. No major injuries, only a few cuts and scrapes, mostly scabbed already due to seawater, a few sore bruises here and there. Purple and angry, but he couldn’t do much about them besides push through, he had no plans to die on this island.

Once that is done, Hob looks up at the sky, realizing that from the position of the sun, he had an hour, maybe two, before sundown. He needed to find water and get a fire going. Fast.
And that he did. Treading a bit deeper into the woods, Hob found a clear, moving stream and immediately dropped to his knees, washing dirt and sand from his hands before cupping them and desperately drinking the cold freshwater, lapping up mouthfuls until the thirst subsides and he has to sit up to breathe, droplets of water soaking his short, mostly kept beard. He lets out a borderline inappropriate sigh as he lifts up his head, sitting on his knees to catch his breath for a few seconds.

As he catches his breath for a moment, Hob hears movement, rustling amongst the bushes.

Rising to his feet, he scans the area, carefully, putting up his guard as he observes, and waits. Heart thumping in his chest, blood rushing to his ears. A wild animal will be the death of me, he thinks, more rustling, he spins to face whatever stalks him, and that’s when he’s run into by a solid force, a blur of black and white.

It takes the fall for Hob to realize it is a person.

There is a brief tumble, dust rising as Hob wrestles with his attacker, he only gets a push to the face and an elbow to his ribs before he pins them down, panting as he grabs onto the other person’s wrists, sitting on them to stop the kicking and writhing.

“What the fuck” Hob breathes, recognizing the face under him, albeit far dirtier and unruly than what he was used to. “You?!”

Another pirate, his rival Captain known as the Nightmare King struggles under Hob’s full weight. “Get.. off-!”

The man’s eyes are wild, and Hob has to use more strength than necessary to keep him put.

“What? For you to attack me again?!”

“Unhand me you..!”

“For god’s sake, Nightmare- you really live up to your name, don’t you?” Hob lets him go, and the other pirate yanks his wrists away, making dust rise.

“Why the hell did you attack me?!”

“Like you wouldn’t have.” The man spits, Hob observes the disheveled appearance of the other captain, how he’s still panting for breath after a good few seconds that Hob has already gotten off him, and how much paler he looks, more than usual.

“We’re stranded, our feud on sea can continue later” Hob huffs, already annoyed, but a bit thankful he’s not going to be completely alone while stranded, even though it is with the last person he’d want to be stranded with.

Nightmare rises to his feet, shakily, Hob realizes, squinting at his rival.

“And who’s fault is that?” He spits, icy blue eyes narrowing at Hob.

Hob can barely believe what he’s hearing, “Are you accusing me of-?” He scoffs. “It was storming!” He shakes his head, and turns to walk off.

“You know what? You’re on your own, ma-” Blergh.

Hob turns only to see Nightmare, bent over, gripping his stomach, and putting anything that was in it out onto the ground. Hob stares a bit, unsure what to do, and debating whether he should help, or leave his rival there… Then Nightmare stumbles, falling onto his knees and passing out cold, clenching his stomach as he does so.

Hob stares, then he sighs and curses himself for what he’s about to do as he walks over to the man, “Oi, Nightmare..” He calls out, and when he receives no answer, he crouches down and turns him over. The Nightmare King breathed irregularly, and Hob has to lift his hand from where he gripped himself to reveal ripped clothing, revealing his skin under it, an angry, reddened abrasion wound on his milky white skin. Hob moves a bit of tattered fabric, looking at Nightmare’s wounded skin, and realizing that he’s scraped nearly half of his body. Possibly during the wreck, before or perhaps even during him getting washed up, since most of it looked like it could’ve been caused by sand. Hob winces at the sight of it and moves a hand to Nightmare’s forehead.

“Christ, you’re boiling” Hob mutters to himself, and tears a piece of his shirt that was mostly ripped already anyway, tearing the piece in half and washing the two in the running stream beside them, then using one to clean the wound to the best of his abilities at the moment, and the other to place on Nightmare’s forehead, Hob then picks him up, and carries him back to the small campsite, setting him on a nest of leaves he’d made while clearing out the area.

Hob sits beside a small campfire he’d prepared earlier in the day, emptying his pockets of dried leaves and other things he knew he could use to create a flame that he’d gathered before finding the stream. He knew he needed to at least get a fire going before he did anything else, as he was already losing daylight and soon it would get cold, and bugs and mosquitoes would start appearing and it’d be anything but pleasant.

He takes a dry stick and a piece of wood, carving a hole into it with his knife, and starts twirling the stick on the piece of wood, creating as much friction as possible, just like his father had shown him, all those years ago. The knowledge comes back to him in waves, and it’d been specifically for this situation, shipwreck or a wreck on the run, his father would tell him, basic survival tactics to ensure he could stay alive for a while if he found himself stranded somewhere, his father always taught him knew things, made sure he knew how to read and write, telling him that it didn't matter if he was a pirate, he should know how to.

The fire takes him a few tries, and his bare hands are reddened and stinging by the time he’s able to create a blaze on the dry leaves he put into the hole he’d carved.

He feeds the flame with more dried leaves, dropping it on the firepit he’d made and covering it with more sticks, he grins triumphantly to himself, waiting until the fire truly picks up to drop a few pieces of driftwood into it. The fire soon coming to life and creating a constant heat source that’ll cook food, keep him and Nightmare warm and safe from mosquitoes and other bugs, and hopefully any wild animals too.

With a few, fleeting minutes of daylight left, Hob feeds the fire and leaves the other captain alone to find some food, he sees a few birds, but isn't able to strike any with the rocks he throws, if anything, they all just fly away.

He can’t find any other animals, and doesn't want to risk wandering too far from the campsite and not having any daylight left, so he goes back to the beach, throwing bigger rocks and pieces of wood at a coconut tree until the coconuts fall onto the sand, he gathers the coconuts and finds a whole glass bottle that’d been washed up by the sea, he takes it and stops by the stream on the way back, washing the bottle and filling it up before heading back to the campsite, where he finds Nightmare awake, still in the position Hob had first left him in, but awake.

“Ah, you’re not dead” Hob says, dropping a few more pieces of driftwood in the fire and sitting down on the ground.

“Bummer, thought I’d be free of you” Hob sighs dramatically, he only partially means it, if this were any other circumstance he’d kill the Nightmare King.

Right?

Hob takes out his knife, stabbing the coconut and grabbing a rock to push the knife in further, twisting and turning and repeating the process until he has a decent sized hole. He takes a whiff of the coconut water, making sure it’s not sour before offering it to Nightmare, who has just been watching him this whole time. “Here” he says.

Nightmare looks at the coconut, then back at Hob, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

"Why not?” Hob shrugs, and sits up slowly, hesitantly taking the coconut from Hob.

“Because we are enemies” Nightmare replies, “Why not leave me to die?”

Hob opens the second coconut, sniffing it once open, to make sure it is good. “That wouldn’t be very moral of me, would it?” he says, tilting the coconut and taking a good drink.

“We are pirates. What we do for a living is not moral.” Nightmare shifts, making a face due to his injury, and he lifts the coconut up to his lips with shaking hands.

Hob shrugs, “I steal from rich scum who don’t deserve what they have” he notes Nightmare’s trembling. “You’re dehydrated, vomited a lot back there”

“Do not change the subject.”

“I already answered your stupid question, you're hurt, and you threw your guts up, so you better drink all of that coconut water so you can eat the inside” Hob spits, getting slightly pissed. He knows that if he were any other man, any other pirate, he would’ve left his enemy to die, maybe would even kill him himself. But Hob is no such man, their feud has always been childish, ever since the day it started, all because Hob got to raid a certain nobleman’s ship that the Nightmare King was after, and Hob had called him childish for how angry he got, it was just another ship, Captain Nightmare was probably one of the more richer pirates on sea, why did he ever need this guy’s riches too?

Nightmare presses his lips together and drinks from the coconut. Hob takes a deep breath.

“Look, I don't want to die, and I assume neither do you.” he starts, and the other man listens. “If we want to get off this blasted island, we’ll have to work together, but first, you're injured and you have a fever, by the way, let me see”

Hob puts his coconut aside and goes over to Nightmare, who does not put up much of a fight, Hob suspects he is physically, at least, too weak to do so, perhaps mentally as well, seeing as Hob did most of the arguing during their little argument.

He takes a look at the wound, that still looks swollen and reddened, but thankfully, not infected, Hob suspects the seawater might have helped, since his own scrapes and cuts, albeit not as bad as Nightmare’s, hadn’t bled nor opened up even more after all the moving he’s done today.

Hob grabs the bottle of water he’d brought and pours a little over the wound, cleaning it a bit better than he had before, and Dream hisses a bit from the cold water over his heated skin.

“No way to disinfect it,” Hob notes, clicking his tongue. “If only we had alcohol..” Hob mostly speaks to himself, since Nightmare is busy finishing his coconut water, and looks more drowsy by the second. “Or maybe we can find something to put on this wou- Hey, hey hey..” Hob wakes Nightmare up by tapping his face repeatedly. “Listen, no dying on me, ‘m not staying on this bloody island alone, and I'm still making you eat coconut innards” Hob covers the wound again, and takes the cloth from Nightmare’s forehead, dampening it once more. Then he sets the bottle aside and sits back down, taking Nightmare’s now empty coconut and cutting it in half with his knife, slicing the soft, jelly like white parts and handing both pieces back to Nightmare.

“Eat up, then you can sleep, okay?” Hob says, and the other man says nothing, but he obeys, eating it all before laying back down and curling up on his uninjured side to sleep.

Hob, on the other hand, finishes his own coconut and sets all the hard, bark-like skin aside, tossing more driftwood into the fire to keep it alight, and laying down on the leaf nest beside the other captain, partially not believing the situation he’s in, as he closes his eyes to go to sleep.

The Nightmare King does not understand why Gadling the Undead chose to help him.

Nightmare, or Morpheus, his legal name yet not his truest, for only a few selected people had the permission to call him Dream, wakes up lying on his back, a shiver of coolness running down his spine as he feels damp cloth against his skin. He feels like shit, having only enough energy to open his eyes. He finds himself on what feels to be a bunch of leaves, in front of what seemed to be a campfire, ablaze with enough fuel for it to stay lit for a little while. But he does not see anyone else. The heat of the fire caresses his cheek and makes him want to curl up even closer to it, despite knowing he probably has a fever from how heavy his limbs feel, and how cold he is despite being in front of a fire and feeling himself sweat.

Dream remembers attacking Gadling in delirious rage, unsure as to why, but convinced if he hadn’t, Gadling would’ve attacked him as soon as he was seen. Yet he’d been wrong. Gadling hadn’t attacked him, no, in fact he had done the opposite, bringing him to wherever this small campsite he’d made was on the island they were stuck on together.

He closes his eyes once more, the pieces of cloth against his forehead and his wound no longer cooling yet helping, either way. And he had no desire to flip over either pieces of fabric. So he waited, breathing steadily, startling to awareness once he heard footsteps approaching. Opening his eyes and tilting his head to see Gadling walking back over.

Similar to how Dream felt like he looked, Gadling was equally disheveled, his hair stiff from seawater, clothes slightly ripped and slightly covered in sand and a few leaves stuck to his pants and boots.

“Ah, you’re not dead” The other pirate notices, and Dream only just misses the humor in his voice as he remarks how he thought he’d be free of him.

Dream watches as Gadling sits on the floor with a thump, setting two coconuts and a full glass bottle of water onto the ground, taking out his knife and opening one of the coconuts with a bit of difficulty, then smelling it and immediately offering it to Dream. Who, was not expecting this, at all.

“Why?” He asks, not understanding this man’s motives, they are enemies for god’s sake, they have nearly killed one another countless times yet here he is, having ripped part of his own shirt to lessen Dream’s fever and is now offering him the first coconut he opens, without even thinking that the second one, the one that would be left for himself, could be spoiled.

“Why not?” Gadling shrugs, and Dream sits up to take the coconut.

“Because we are enemies” he replies, “Why not leave me to die?”

Dream watches as the second coconut is opened, the same way the first one had, watching Gadling as he replies, how it wouldn't be moral of him. The coconut is heavy in Dream’s hands. Dream remarks how what they do for a living is immoral. Dream feels himself shaking as he lifts the coconut up to his lips, drinking from the fruit and savoring the feeling as the water goes down. Washing away the lingering taste of bile from when he threw up.

Gadling shrugs, “I steal from rich scum who don’t deserve what they have” He looks at Dream, eyebrows moving closer together as he observes him. “You’re dehydrated, vomited a lot back there”

“Do not change the subject.” Dream snaps back, not liking the way Gadling looks at him, nor how his skin feels even hotter. From the fever, of course, no other reason. He drinks more of the coconut water, already feeling weak again from just holding himself up and speaking.

“I already answered your stupid question, you're hurt, and you threw your guts up, so you better drink all of that coconut water so you can eat the inside” Gadling spits back, voice raising slightly.
Dream just drinks more from the coconut. Tired from the arguing, yet he shouldn’t be surprised. These are the most words he and Gadling have ever exchanged.

“Look, I don't want to die, and I assume neither do you.” Gadling starts, “If we want to get off this blasted island, we’ll have to work together, but first, you're injured and you have a fever, by the way, let me see”

Gadling goes over to Dream and he has no choice but to allow him to look, not enough energy to move away, or to protest. It’s hurting, either way, and Dream would rather not look at his own injury. He hisses as he feels water being poured over the wound, finishing his coconut water and immediately starting to feel sluggish, his eyelids heavy, sleep calling to him and he’s going willingly, he can faintly hear Gadling say something before he feels a warm, rough hand tapping his cheek repeatedly, and he jumps awake.

“Hey, hey hey… Listen, no dying on me, I‘m not staying on this bloody island alone, and I'm still making you eat coconut innards” Gadling says, covering the wound again, he also takes the cloth from Dream’s forehead and dampens it once more. Then he sets the bottle aside and sits back down, taking Dream’s now empty coconut and cutting it in half with his knife, slicing the soft, jelly like white parts and handing both pieces back to him.

“Eat up, then you can sleep, okay?” Gadling says, and Dream says nothing, too weak to fight him, but he obeys as his stomach growls for food, now that he’s been mildly rehydrated, eating it all before laying back down and curling up on his uninjured side to sleep.

When Dream wakes up again, Gadling is not there.

He sighs and sits up, taking the glass bottle that had been set beside him and drinking from it, still feeling a bit out of it, yet better than he had the day prior. His injuries still stung, the pieces of fabric almost completely dried now, so he throws a bit of water over his injury, biting into his fist as he does so. It still hurts like hell.

Dream leans back onto the foliage, knowing better as to get up and wander or go after Gadling. He just sits there, waiting like a fool, nothing to entertain him except his thoughts.

The day he and Gadling first met had been anything but ordinary. He’d heard of a young captain, much like himself, making his name known around the sea, he could’ve cared less, thought it’d just been a lad taking a joyride out of the thrill of stealing.

That day, Dream had been tailing a certain Privateer for months on end. Planning on stealing what he could take from his ship, if not even the pants on his skin, Dream planned on taking everything from the man that had wronged him long before he even fled his home to become a pirate.

Odds were, Burgess didn’t even remember him, who was the scrawny child he’d once been in comparison to the rich and infamous pirate he was now? He didn’t care. He wanted Burgess to pay for what he’d done. And that he would.

And after days of catching up, waiting, following, planning…

Captain Nightmare found the Privateer’s ship empty. Raided, abandoned on a shore, possibly by whoever was able to infiltrate the ship without him noticing, when he’d been keeping his eye on it for so long?

Furious was an understatement. Burgess was dead and it hadn’t been by his own hand.

Weeks later, he and his crew had found themselves on a seaside town called Raven Cove, known as a common stop for pirates to mostly lick their wounds after a violent battle, against the sea itself or another ship, be it privateer or pirate.

In his case, his Quartermaster Lucienne had made him stop due to the fact that he’d been very close to throwing someone overboard at the smallest amount of irritation. And she’d rather not have him murder all his hands by tossing them into the sea.

Now, here he was, in an Inn that’d certainly seen better days. Watching the foam swirl in his not-too-shabby ale beside his Quartermaster and a few other members of his crew, including Merv, a Gunner that mostly took on the role of cook, an older, grumpy man that had taken Dream in right after he’d fled from home, and taught him how to be a pirate in the first place, without him, he probably would have never been able to have the name he does now.

That’s when he hears it.

“Ol’ Burgess had what was coming to him” A man laughs, he wore a linen shirt that’d probably once been white, and a lavish scarlet coat thrown haphazardly over his shoulders as he drank his ale, a sign that this man was possibly the captain of his crew. “Bastard, he was. Scallywag who deserved to die”

That, Dream could agree on.

“Izzit true he squealed when ye gutted him like a fish, Hobsie?”

The man with the coat laughed, and Dream could almost find him attractive if he wasn’t the person who killed Burgess instead of him. “Like a lass” the man replies, making fury bubble in Dream’s chest, he gripped his mug and brought it to his lips as an attempt to calm down. But the other table’s laughter just made him grit his teeth to the point of pain.

“Captain!” He hears, jolting and turning to his right hand.

“What?”

“You’re staring daggers into your own drink, a little more and your ale would’ve started boiling” She informs, and that’s when he notices Merv and his other hands are staring at him curiously.

He huffs, downing the rest of his drink. “I believe the table aside us are the ones responsible for Burgess’ death.”

Everyone at his table turns to look at the other crew, without a hint of discretion. And he nearly wants to sink into the musty floorboards under him.

“That's Gadling’s son, that is…” Says Merv. “Robert, think his name is.. Captain of his dad’s old crew, er, well, what was left of it”

“And you know this, how?” Lucienne asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Used to be mates with his dad, good man, before being condemned to dance with Jack Ketch” Merv informs, but Dream couldn’t care less.

“He killed Burgess.” Dream mumbles, before abruptly rising to his feet and stomping toward the other captain’s table. Which goes silent as he approaches, clad in black, he is very much not unknown.

“Did I hear you…” Dream takes a breath, barely managing the words out “Killed Roderick Burgess?” He asks Gadling specifically. The man looks up at him with his eyebrows raised, slightly startled as he looks Dream up and down before asking.

“Might’ve, why?” Gadling tilts his head, a small, rakish grin that, if Dream was less furious, could’ve taken as flirting.

“Oi, you’re Captain Nightmare” One of the other sailors points out. And the others at the table whisper to each other, as Dream remains where he stands. He ignores the whispering, still glaring at Gadling.

“Nothing, apart from the fact that I’d been stalking him yet you got to him first… Somehow.”

All Gadling does is shrug, sip his ale and turn to Dream once more. “Well, first come first serve… I believe is how the saying goes.”

Dream fumes.

He was supposed to be the one that took Burgess’ life, not this wannabe buccaneer. If they had been anywhere else, Dream would call a duel against this man, watch as he wiped the cocky grin from his face. But they were in Raven Cove, he couldn’t, not if he wanted every pirate in the near vicinity to pull their own arms on him. And Dream could be many things, but that much of a fool was not one of them.

“Well, I’ll inform you of this, Robert,” Dream starts, keeping his anger somewhat at bay. “Killing those whom I target does not put you in my good graces.” With that he turns around, storming out of the tavern and not waiting for his crew, who leave sufficient payment on the table and leave after their captain, sighing, unsurprised by his reaction.

Meanwhile, Captain Gadling watches the man leave, turning to his crew, confused.

“What’s with that bloke?”

“They call him Captain Nightmare, known for his temper” One of his mates explains.

“And because the man’s always covered in black, looks like a nightmare too” Jo, Hob’s own quartermaster, points out. “I’ve heard he’s weird, and probably an ex-noble” she finishes her point by sipping her ale.

“Huh,” Hob shrugs, “Guess I’ve made myself my first enemy” He raises his mug of ale, and immediately goes back to laughing with his crewmates.

Once the first rays of sunlight start to shine, Hob is already up.

He makes sure the fire is still burning, having reduced to a small flame and embers, he brings it back with ease, heading off for more water and supplies, leaving Nightmare to sleep a bit more as he sets off to find what he can.

First, he goes back to the beach, finding more pieces of driftwood, already dried from the hot, morning sand. He takes what he can back to the campsite, leaving them there and going to the stream, drinking some of the cool water. He'd left the glass bottle at the campsite with Nightmare, and hoped that more would wash up soon. And if they’re really lucky, maybe some parts of the ship are still afloat and somewhat intact, and he could swim there to raid them if the weather seemed alright. He didn’t know of any sharks or dangerous sea animals in the area they’d been before getting washed up. So he also hoped there would be none if he ever had to swim.

Afterwards, Hob explores the island a bit more, careful not to take too long nor stray too far. He marks some trees with his knife to create a trail back to the stream so he won't get lost, and soon finds some wild raspberry bushes, observing how some have been eaten by birds, so he knows that they are, for a fact, not poisonous. So he fills his pockets and returns to the campsite, finding Nightmare now awake and sitting up, although not looking much better than the day prior.

“Hey,” Hob greets, sitting on the ground across from him. And is graced with a mere nod in reply.

Hob breathes, trying to be as patient as he can. Even though this man seems to have the talent to piss him off.

“I found berries” He announces, taking one of the coconut shells and filling it with the berries. “Don’t look like the poisonous kind, birds were eating ‘em” He tells Nightmare offering the makeshift bowl to him.

The other man takes a few in silence, and they eat together.

“How’s your wound?” Hob asks.

“Sore,” Nightmare replies, voice slightly hoarse, Hob takes notice of how he looks a bit better appearance-wise this morning. Not so sickly, still pale, under the dirt that covered them both, but that part seemed to just be his natural complexion. “But, better than how it felt yesterday”

Hob hums in acknowledgment as he eats more berries, leaving the coconut shell in Nightmare’s lap for him to have the rest, and is given a very confused look.

“Have the rest, imma go see what else I can find- And don’t look at me like that, I already told you why i’m helping you” He says, rising back to his feet. “Don’t let the fire go out, and once you feel okay enough you can help me make a proper shelter.”

Nightmare nods. “It is.. The least I can do, if we are truly.. Working together.” He replies, making a face at the prospect, and Hob can only laugh at how his face twists. “Good enough, shout if ya need me” He says, and trots off again.

He explores more, being careful to keep track of the sun’s position and the direction he wanders to. Finding nothing but more trees and a thicker forest.

At a certain point, he thinks he can hear rushing water, a waterfall of some sorts, perhaps. But, as he ventures deeper, following the sound yet not finding the source, Hob decides it’s best to stop and turn around, as the island is far bigger than he’d imagined. He makes his way back, paying attention to his surroundings, especially potential prey. Eventually, after stalking a decently sized bird, he’s able to hit it by throwing a rock at it, making the bird drop to the ground for long enough so he can kill it.

Victorious, he returns to the campsite just before the sun starts setting, brandishing the dead bird as he finds Nightmare awake, sitting up, and keeping the fire ablaze.

“Caught us our dinner” He announces, sitting beside the other pirate, who stares at the bird wordlessly. An odd look in his eyes before he snaps out of it, looking at Hob with those ice cold eyes. Who has to remind himself he despises this gorgeous bastard before something utterly stupid comes out of his mouth.

“Took you nearly the whole day to catch a single bird?”

And there it is, the reason he hates this man. He bites his tongue, not in the mood to argue; he just takes out his knife to defeather and gut the bird so it can be cooked and eaten.

“Glad you’re doing better.” Hob replies, deadpan. “Soon you’ll be the one hunting, then you’ll see how easy it is to hit a bird when you have nothing but rocks to throw”

Nightmare huffs, “Very well, but it cannot be that hard..”

Hob looks at him a bit incredulously. “Going to complain that there’s only one bird? I apologize, your highness, but rather a single bird than starve to death on this blasted island.”

“I was not going to complain about the bird-” Nightmare defends, looking mildly irritated already.

“Well it sure fucking sounded like you were”

“I was not.” Nightmare insists sharply.

They remain in silence after that. A small, unresolved buzzing of tension Hob isn’t sure he wants to discover the motive of. He successfully guts the bird, skewering it on a stick he finds and propping it over the fire so it’ll cook. Feeling rather proud of himself despite Nightmare’s insufferable attitude. By the time one of them speaks again, it is already late, pitch black except the crackling fire and the moon shining in through the trees, it’s gotten colder, too. The wind howls through the treetops and the waves hitting the shore not too far away from them. Luckily, due to all the bushes around, the fire hasn’t threatened to go out, but Hob has still been keeping a close eye on it, just in case. They can’t afford their fire going out in the middle of the night.

“Not gonna be super flavorful.. But better than nothing..” Hob mutters, mostly to himself as he pokes the fire, taking another strip of driftwood that he gathered earlier to toss into it.

“You seem to be... Knowledgeable, about surviving like this” Nightmare says, knees tugged close to his chest, his wounds have gotten a bit better, cleaning them has seemed to help the most, the vomiting had seemed to be mostly caused by insolation, the pain had been an added bonus to make his body want to temporarily give up.
Hob looks at him, a bit surprised. Had that just been a compliment from him?

“Oh, yeah, guess so” He chuckles softly. “Learned it with my da, he wanted me to learn how to survive on my own if this exact scenario ever happened… Or if, y’know, I had to run away from certain authorities” He winks at Nightmare, that kind of risk came with the kind of life people like them had.

“I suppose that is helpful..” He looks away at the wink, bringing his knees closer to his chest. “Although I was never taught these skills, most of the things I know now, I had to learn on my own.”

“Oh,” Hob replies, unsure of where this is going, but to be fair, they did have to at least get along to survive, and deep talks about more personal things was a way to bond, at least.

Of course it could backfire completely if they ever got off this island alive and went back to their normal lives, but that was a problem for future Hob, and as much as he thought the man infuriating. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t really want to hate him, he didn’t even understand why he did apart from Nightmare being an absolute asshole sometimes, really. They just hated each other, it was what they did.

“Well, I could show you, if you’d like” He says, finally. Glancing at Nightmare as he turns the bird to roast on the other side.

“I…” Nightmare hesitates, blue eyes engulfed in flames as he stares into the fire. “I believe I would…”

“Great,” Hob adds more driftwood to the fire, “You think you’re okay to walk around tomorrow?” He asks, and Nightmare nods. Hob feels a bit of relief at that, scavenging and walking around on his own was getting tiring, especially when all he had in his stomach was the coconut from last night and the berries from earlier today. The bird over the fire was smelling more appetizing by the second, and was starting to not even care that it’d probably be tastier if he washed it in seawater for the salt.

Soon, it was cooked all the way through and Hob was able to cut off a few pieces at a time and use their coconut shell bowls so they wouldn’t burn themselves as the meat was still hot.

In silence, they devoured the whole bird together as if it was the most delicious thing they’d eaten. Not realizing how hungry they truly were until presented with a somewhat significant amount of food.

Hob sighs once they’ve cleaned off all the bones and thrown them into the fire to not attract any bugs or animals, leaning back into the nest of leaves they’ve been using as a bed lately. Nightmare does the same.

“That was very good…” He sighs, satisfied from a fuller stomach than before.

“Oh? Now you value the bird?” Hob jokes, looking over at him with a grin. They’re closer like this than they had been while sitting, a little more and they’d bump noses.

Nightmare scoffs, rolling his eyes and curling more into himself. That is when Hob realizes he’s shivering.

“Nightmare, are you cold?” Hob asks, a bit concerned. It’d make sense, due to how torn his shirt is, far more than Hob’s, and how thin he is, nearly skeletal, in comparison to Hob, who’s always been wider than his peers.

The other captain nods, and Hob does the first thing that comes to mind.

Which is, again. Another stupid thing whose consequences will be dealt with by future Hob.

He leans in closer and opens his arms. “C’mere.”

Nightmare observes him, eyeing him warily. “What are you-”

“I can’t have you fucking freezing to death, so come here” Hob repeats, and this time Nightmare complies, stiff as a board, going into his arms and allowing him to share his body heat.

“Christ, you’re freezing, was the fire not helping at all?” Hob asks, ignoring how perfectly they fit together, how Hob can just rest his chin on the top of Nightmare’s head.

“It was,” Nightmare replies, shifting for a bit more comfort against Hob’s chest. “I just run rather cold usually…”

“Hm,” Hob hums, the smoke from the fire deciding to blow over them for a bit, giving them a nice smoke shield from any bugs looking to eat them alive, but also making both their eyes water. Hob closes his eyes and shields his face by turning his head and burying his nose into Nightmare’s hair, and he feels Nightmare shove his face into his chest. Tension slowly melting out of both of them the longer they lay together in silence. “Gadling,” Nightmare calls out, after the smoke has stopped blowing over them and they can separate enough to at least look at each other.

“Yes?”

“Do not call me Nightmare.”

“What should I call you, then?” Hob asks, as he feels Nightmare’s hands unrelease themselves from where they had been trapped against his chest, and trail upward, toward his face.

“I prefer Dream…” He breathes, hands going to the collar of his ripped shirt, and gripping it.

“Of course you do, you pretentious picaroon- Oh-” Hob is pulled in by his collar, and his lips crash against Dream’s.

Dream isn’t completely sure why he does it, all he knows is that he does, and his lips are on Gadling’s, the man he swore was his mortal enemy all that time ago.

Yet here he is, gripping the man that’d been kind despite his rudeness, that could’ve easily left him to die from dehydration two days ago, but he never did. And kissing that same man.

To be fair, Gadling is kissing him back rather nicely, after the first shock wore off, they separated for less than a second only to try again, this time getting it right. Since the first had been an awful clash of teeth and nose and Gadling’s initial gasp not helping at all.

Gadling gently pushes Dream onto his back, climbing over him to deepen the kiss. Dream is quicker, he licks along the seam of Gadling’s mouth, and the other man grants him entrance. Dream is pushed deeper into the leaves as their kissing becomes heated, more passionate.

Wandering hands and shared gasps of air leave them both breathless, Dream even more so when Gading’s mouth trails down to his jaw, and his neck. Kissing and licking and Dream thinks he must taste awful, since he’s covered in dirt and sand and sweat and dried seawater. Then again Gadling didn’t taste all that different, and Dream hadn’t minded a bit. The thought almost startles a laugh out of him, but then Gadling bites his neck gently, slightly harder than a nip, and Dream gasps, hand flying to the back of Gadling’s head, and hips bucking up into the other man.

“Fuck, Gadling..”

“Mmm… If I’m supposed to call you Dream, you should call me Hob instead.” He says, still nipping Dream’s neck, a hand trailing down to grip one of his thighs to pull him closer in a way that they grind against each other. “Ngh- Hob..” Dream manages, gasping softly at the feeling of their groins pressed together. All coherent thought of how much of a bad idea this was were gone as they kept going on, soon grinding against each other in earnest and groaning into each other’s mouths, a mess of sweat and dirt entangled with one another in frenzied lust that burned as strong as their campfire.

They tug and pull and rub against one another, not bothering to remove any articles of clothing, shamelessly getting off on one another while fully clothed.

“Hob” Dream pants against Hob’s mouth tilting his head back and closing his eyes tight as orgasm washes over him. Dirty and quick, just how they are. He lets out an embarrassing whimper as Hob’s teeth graze his neck, seemingly falling down the same path as he with a stifled groan.

Hob rolls off him, and they lay side by side, breathing heavily and contemplating what they just did.

“Dream, I-” Hob starts, and Dream can see him looking toward him out of the corner of his eye. And Dream has to fight the urge to not look toward him again, because he knows, he knows he’ll press his lips to Hob’s once more and he’s an idiot for it. They’re enemies, goddammit. Hob killed Burgess when Dream was the one who should’ve, yet he finds himself lost in kind actions, insults that do not do their intended job at insulting and big, brown eyes that light up whenever Dream teases him back.

“Do not, Gadling..” Dream turns over, curling up into himself, back facing Hob. He’s gone too far, he should have never allowed Hob to be nice to him. He’s a fool, the other man is probably just using him, as well.

Hob does not reply, nor does he expect him to. He hears shuffling, another piece of wood being tossed into the fire, and then the rustling of their leafy bed. Dream risks a peak over his shoulder only to see Hob facing the other way, as he should.

Dream looks forward once more, burying the bottom side of his face under his sleeve and closing his eyes, the shame and hormones from his punched out orgasm lulling him to sleep quickly.

The following morning, when Dream wakes, Hob isn’t there.

Fear coils in his gut at the idea that Hob’s abandoned him, but it takes him sitting up and glancing around to remember that he’s done this for the past two days already. And he’s just probably gone out to scavenge for more supplies, and food.

The least Dream can do is get up and start doing something.

First, he adds more wood to the fire, pushing the ashes away from the main flame. He then stretches his legs, walking the perimeter around the camp, but not straying too far, since he wants to hear when Hob returns, and also, because he’s been unconscious for the better part of these two days, he has no idea where the campsite is in regards to the beach and the river where he found Hob.

Taking notice of the worryingly small pile of wood beside the campfire, Dream picks up sticks and pieces of bark he can find, grimacing at the amount of dirt he gets on his hands and under his nails. He makes sure they’re dry before adding them to the pile, and he’s set on gathering more when he hears footsteps, jumping as Hob emerges from the bushes carrying driftwood, two glass bottles filled with water and coconuts.

“Well, good morning to you” He gives Dream a small smile, and walks past him to place the driftwood with the now bigger pile of firewood thanks to what Dream gathered. Making Dream blink in confusion. Is he just going to act like nothing happened the night prior? Should he act like nothing happened the night prior?

“Morning.. You have coconuts?” Dream follows him over to where he’s standing, trying to get the dirt off his hands.

“Yup, hopefully they’re not spoiled, seems like there’s enough liquid in it” He shakes one of them to demonstrate. “Found another bottle washed up,” Hob sits on their makeshift bed, placing both bottles down along with one of the coconuts, chuckling as he watches Dream struggle with the dirt on his hands.

“Wiping them on your trousers won't help, it’s probably dirtier than your hands at this point, here. Let me help” Hob puts the coconut he was holding down, and takes one of the bottles, making Dream extend his hands as he pours a bit of the water on them. Being kind and helpful once again, to Dream’s frustration. The dirt loosens and he is able to scrub a bit of it off.

“Thank you.” Dream replies dryly. Not looking Hob in the face. He just can’t.

He hears Hob sigh, he ignores it. They aren’t friends, and he will not mention what happened the night prior.

Hob opens both coconuts, neither are spoiled, so they drink and eat in silence. Hob attempts a conversation a few times, but after receiving increasingly dismissive answers from Dream, he gives up. Dream ignores the guilt that twists in his stomach for acting like this, but he cannot help it. He cannot allow Hob to get closer to him. He will not allow it.

After a while, they have brief, instructional conversations about how they’ll build a shelter. And they scavenge for some more materials, since getting big enough pieces of bamboo or wood is a problem, and Hob’s little pocket knife isn't enough to chop anything down properly. The two fuel their fire with enough wood to keep it ablaze while they’re both gone, and they’re off to the beach, walking along the sand. Dream picks up more driftwood while Hob walks ahead, looking for anything else that’s washed up. Dream notices Hob stop, and look toward the sea, shielding the light from his eyes and leaning forward, trying to see something.

“Aye, Dream! Come here, I can see something floating in the water!” He yells from where he is. Dream walks over, curiously looking in the direction Hob is.

“What? Where?” He asks, once he reaches Hob’s side.

“Over there, look, that’s bigger than some driftwood, isn’t it?” Hob points towards something in the water. Dream switches the driftwood from one arm to another so he can, too, shield the light from his eyes and try to make out what it is.

“I believe so… It does look like wood…” He isn’t able to fully make out what exactly it is. But Hob just drops to the ground, removing his boots.

“What- what are you doing?”

“Gonna swim out there, take a look at what it is, might be a crate, or a chest that survived the blast. It could be useful.” Hob says, yanking his boots off his feet and setting them aside. Dream watches him rise to his feet, remove his shirt, tossing it aside with his boots, and go into the water.

Dream remains where he stands waiting. Watching Hob go past the waves and submerge briefly, to get his hair wet, then swim to floating object. Dream cannot make out any expressions from how far he is, but he can see that Hob is bringing the object back with him, and soon enough he’s back on shore, pushing what he can now identify as a wooden crate onto the sand. Dream puts down his driftwood to help Hob drag it onto drier sand.

“It’s a crate! And quite heavy too” Hob breathes heavily, sopping wet and pushing wet strands of hair aside. Dream has to avert his gaze so as to not stare.

“How will we open it? Where’s your knife?” Dream asks, reaching into Hob’s boots as he’d noticed he sometimes stores it in there.

Finding the knife, he sticks it in between the gaps of one side of the crate, prying it until there's a notch. Hob helps, picking up a piece of wood Dream had been carrying and forcing the top off.

Inside the crate, There is an ax, a bottle of alcohol, and numerous other glass bottles filled with different herbs and things a surgeon on ship would have.

“It’s a medicine chest!” Hob points out, laughing as he takes out the ax to look at it. “This is perfect!” He exclaims. And Dream cannot contain the shared feeling of relief.

“We can use the wood from the crate to build our shelter” He suggests, and Hob agrees.

“You’re right” He says, “Let’s get this back to camp, put the driftwood in here, we can carry it together” Dream complies, and they’re both able to carry the crate back to their campsite, which will begin to look like a proper campsite quite soon. They remove all the items from the crate and Hob uses the ax to dismantle it, propping it up where plenty of sunlight hits so it’ll dry, while Dream takes a look at the medicinal herbs that they’ve acquired.

“Didn’t have a surgeon on my ship, so I’m assuming this is from yours?” Hob asks, after a while. Sitting down in the dirt, not sopping wet anymore, but still very shirtless, and barefoot.

“It was.” He laments, the vials with powdered cinnamon and a few other things that certainly could not be wet remain nicely sealed due to the glass.

“I had a medic onboard. You probably have seen his work, I believe he’s done a number on a few of your hands throughout the years.”

He looks up in time to see the realization dawn on Hob. “You’re telling me, the same man who my men have lost limbs and even eyes to, was your doctor?”

“Yes.” Dream replies, now observing the half empty bottle of alcohol, that seemed to not have opened while in the crate either.

“Christ..” Is all Hob says, and they go back to silence.

The next days are uneventful, full of gathering and hunting. Dream carved a spear from a branch and Hob’s knife, carrying it on his back just in case. He was able to kill a snake with it, and that granted protein for them that day, because, while coconuts and wild raspberries are good, they won’t survive for long without some kind of meat in their stomachs.

Dream continues to put distance in between him and Hob, remaining cold and distant, as he had before. He can tell Hob is getting frustrated by it, but he will not give in to the burning urge to feel Hob’s lips on his once more.

The two build the shelter, using the crate Hob took apart. It is the only time they talk, when things need to be done.

“Reckon that’s good enough for today, we should find some food before the sun sets” Hob says, wiping a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Dream nods, weaving the last of the leaves through the stick roof they made. The shelter is crude, but good enough to sleep in and protect them if it ends up raining again.

“How about we go after a bird or two? And you can see that it’s not as easy as you granted it for” Hob tries to joke, trying desperately to lighten the serious mood they’ve been in recently.

Dream scoffs bitterly “Last time, you took all day to retrieve a single bird.” there is no humor in his voice, it isn’t teasing from last time.

Hob huffs, his patience finally running out. “Look, Dream. I don’t know what’s making you act weird all of a sudden-” Hob pauses, taking a breath. “Is this about the other night?” He asks, voice a lot gentler than before. “Because if it is, you’re the one who kissed me first-”

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. He can’t deny that part, that foolish act of impulsivity that he oh so craves again. “It is… Not that.”

“Then what is it?” Hob asks, clearly starting to get impatient and fed up.

Like everyone does when it comes to Dream.

Dream looks up slowly, watching Hob’s irritated, yet almost pleading expression. A man so different from what he knew, only days prior, from before they got washed up. A man he can’t help but be attracted to despite the hate that burns in his gut for taking his vengeance kill from him. “You killed Burgess.”

He watches Hob blink, processing those words. Soon, the other man’s jaw drops, as he gapes at Dream. “For killing-? You have got to be fucking kidding me!” He laughs, bitter and humorless.

“That was years ago, Dream, is this why? Is this why we’ve been fighting for all this time? Because I killed some privateer you wanted to kill five years ago?”

All the anguish and emotions bubble up. All the pain he felt ever since he escaped Burgess’ greedy claws when he was younger rise to the surface.

“He was not just some privateer I wanted to kill!” Dream yells, and Hob’s eyes narrow at him.

“Then why? Why have you remained angry for years after his death? Why does it matter? If you wanted him dead, he’s dead! It’s not my fault you were too slow to catch him!”

Dream inhales shakily, “It does not matter.” he turns around, walking toward the trees. Hob follows him.

“Except it does! It does fucking matter, because I’m not sure about you, but I’d like to get off this bloody island alive!” Hob exclaims, raising his hands up in frustration, Dream does not look at him, he cannot tell Hob why he wanted to kill Burgess in the first place. Because it will be used against him, if they ever get off this island alive, everything will go back to what it was. And Hob will surely spread rumors and lies that the feared and infamous Captain Nightmare was sold as a slut to one of the king’s privateer’s.

Part of Dream wishes that’d been the case, perhaps being a wench would’ve been easier.

“And if you keep acting like this and barely speaking to me unless we have to do something, we are going to end up dying, Dream.” Hob is serious, and logically, Dream knows he’s right. That he should just tell him, and deal with whatever consequence that comes later.

“I am doing the minimum, I speak when there is a reason to.” He replies, crossing his arms against his chest, still facing away from Hob. Their silence extends for a few moments, and all Dream can hear, apart from the sounds of the forest and the waves hitting the shore, is his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He shakes, and he’s not sure if it’s noticeable from where Hob is standing, but part of him wishes it would, a deep dark part of him wishes he was the kind of man who could forgive, and trust, easily.

“The minimum,” Hob repeats, flatly. “You’re acting like a child.”

Dream inhales sharply, another wave of anger washing over him and twisting in his gut. He turns around to face Hob once more. “You dare?”

Hob stares at Dream, incredulous. “Yes I dare, I goddamn dare because you are acting like one! What did I tell you before? We have to get along if either of us wants to make it out alive! And here you are, acting like a spoiled brat because you didn’t get your way all those years ago.”

Hob’s words only make Dream fume, he clenches his fists as he hears Hob’s words, and decides he has had quite enough. “Perhaps we would both be better off working on our own, then.”

Hob blinks, confused. “What? No, of course not- Hey, wait!”

As Hob speaks, Dream turns and starts walking off, and once Hob tries to come after him, Dream takes the spear he carved himself from its makeshift holster on his back and points it at Hob. “Do not come after me, Robert Gadling.” He growls, spinning the spear to hit Hob with its length in the stomach, catching him off guard in his confusion and making him double over. He then uses the opportunity to run into the forest, leaving Hob alone.

Hob doubles over with an “Oomph!” sound as he’s hit in the stomach, he already knew that as slender as Dream appeared to be, he had quite an amount of strength.

“Dream- Dream! Come back!” He yells after him, scrambling to his feet and trying to run after him, to no avail, it’s getting dark, and Dream is fast. Hob stops after a while, not wanting to get lost himself.

“Fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing his hands over his face as he makes his way back to camp. Dream is going to end up dying on his own in the dark, if it were daytime, he had a chance, but the sun is setting increasingly faster and the wind is getting harsher. He won’t underestimate Dream’s abilities, but, he also doesn't think Dream can handle being on his own and making a fire in such short notice.

He gets back to camp, mildly in a panic, running his fingers through his dirty, tangled hair. Pacing, muttering angrily to himself about how stupid Dream is, how stupid he is for feeding any slither of hope that he and Dream might’ve been getting along, in their own way. But no, the bastard had to go on and prove he rightfully deserves the moniker of Captain Nightmare.

But neither of them are Captains, not now. Not without a crew.

He picks up the sword they’d found in the crate that’d washed up, grunting as he swung toward a tree, getting it stuck in the bark. It’s enough to get the majority of his rage out.

Hob breathes heavily, sighing as he scrubs his hands over his face, preparing for what he’s about to do. He takes his sword back, pulling it out of the tree with a bit of force. Looking up at the sky, he realizes that the sun is already setting, in no time it’ll be pitch black. He takes one of the coconut shells they’ve been using as bowls, tying it as quickly as he can to a thicker branch they'd found, using his sword, he’s able to get a piece of drywood that’s still aflame into it, securing it with other branches and stuffing his pockets with extra fuel, he sets out to find Dream.

Walking deeper into the forest, he doesn’t call out Dream’s name, not yet, not while there's still daylight. He keeps an eye on the torch to keep it alight, marking the trees he walks past with his knife, so he can find his way back to camp.

His nerves are on edge, guilt swirling deep in his gut. If only Dream would’ve just told him what was wrong, but of course, he wouldn’t. And now he’s lost, with nothing but that spear of his. He keeps looking. Dream couldn’t have gone too far…

Night falls upon him quicker than he’d thought.

“Dream?” He calls out, holding the torch in front of him as it gets dimmer by the second.

“Dream? Where are you- Please! You’re going to die out here on your own!” Hob looks for what feels like eternity, the sky goes dark, and except for the torch, the only other light source is the full moon shining its light in between the treetops.

Hob is starting to get desperate, looking around almost frantically. Forgetting to mark the trees he holds the torch in front of him, making sure it stays lit and fueled.

“Fuck… Dream?! Where are you?” His mouth is starting to get dry from calling Dream’s name, and he almost considers giving up and turning back when-

He hears rustling, and footsteps, someone running toward him and-

“Dream?! What- wh--?” He catches Dream, who collides with him, effectively dropping both his torch and his knife.

Dream looks terrible from how Hob can see him in the dim light. He looks like he’s been crying, he’s shaking, with panicked eyes and his clothes look dirtier than they had been.

“Hob- Hob there’s a- it’s a-” Dream’s voice shakes, he’s panting, and he’s actively trying to pull Hob in the direction he was running in, but Hob has a good grip on his arms.

“What? What is it?” Hob asks, trying to understand what the hell Dream is trying to tell him. He turns with the intent on picking his torch back up before it went out or caught the grass on fire.

That’s when he sees the bear running towards the two of them.

Hob yells, frantically letting go of Dream, who falls onto the ground, and picking up the torch, holding it up in between them and the bear. It stops, growling at Hob. His eyes focus on Dream’s broken spear protruding from the bear’s shoulder, blood drips from it’s fur and onto the grass, the coppery smell of it filling the air.

It probably got spooked by Dream and attacked him, and he defended himself with his spear, but that only made it angrier…

Hob waves the fire again, trying to make the bear back up. It takes a few steps back, but keeps on growling, and Hob can see its muscles tensing, ready to attack.

The pirate wracks his brain on what he’d learned before about bears, not wanting to let his fight or flight turn into freeze. Not with Dream still on the ground behind him, he vowed not to die, at very least not like this. On an island, killed by a bear of all things. He did not get his title for no reason. He refuses to go out, if not with a bang.

Hob sucks in a breath, gripping the torch tighter even with shaking hands, he steps forward, not allowing his legs to fail him now. And he yells as loud as he can, waving the torch around so hard the flame nearly goes out, he raises his arms over his head to appear as big as he can, and yells, making any loud noise he can. And it works, the bear starts backing up, it tries to stand it’s ground for a few more moments, but when Hob threatens to chase it, it runs away.

He runs after it, yelling and waving his arms like a madman. His tactic works, and once the bear is gone for sure. He puts his arms down and goes over to Dream, panting, throat raw from all of his yelling.

“Dream?” He crouches down beside him, worried that he’d been hurt by the bear. Hob trembles from all the adrenaline, he can’t imagine how Dream might feel. “Dream, are you okay? Did the bear hurt you?” He places a hand on Dream’s side, and he feels him startle. He turns him over slowly, laying on his back, no visible injuries, Hob notices, which makes him relax a bit. But then he realizes that Dream is crying, nearly sobbing in fact. Tears stream down his pale cheeks, reddened by the situation and sunburn, he hiccups as they meet eyes, turning his head away and covering it with an arm.

“Hey- Dream, hey..” He gently moves Dream’s arm away, placing a hand under his back and directioning him to sit up. He’s surprised at how easily Dream complies.

“The bear is gone, it’s okay, we’re okay…” Hob tells him, slightly breathless. Dream still doesn’t look at him. Hob has a hand on his shoulder and can feel how much he’s trembling.

“You came after me…” Dream mutters, like he’s only just processing what happened now. He sniffs, and more tears roll down his face. “Why did you come after me?” He looks at Hob, asking the question almost in an accusatory tone, Hob blinks, placing a hand on Dream’s arm, and he hears Dream let out a shaky breath.

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Hob looks into Dream’s eyes, reddened from the crying, making the blue around his pupils stand out. Even with the dim lighting of the torch, slowly burning through its fuel.

“Because,” Dream swallows. “We fought, I- I was rude… I have been rude, to you.”

“Yeah… You were,” Hob agrees, rubbing his thumb back and forth on Dream’s arm. “But I was pretty rude, too”

Dream sighs, looking away, lifting a hand to wipe at his face. Hob has to fight the urge to do it for him. “I suppose.” He agrees. “It is still, humiliating.”

“What is?”

“Crying in front of your enemy.”

Hob can’t help but laugh at this, he finally fully sits on the ground, clenching his stomach as he laughs while Dream stares at him like he’s gone insane.

“What- Why are you laughing? It is not funny. Stop laughing-- Robert Gadling!”

Hob eventually stops, and looks at Dream again, More tears stream down his face and this time, Hob reaches out to gently wipe them away while Dream stares at him, mouth slightly parted open.

“I’m laughing at you, Dream.” Hob replies, making Dream’s eyebrows furrow, and before he can say anything else, Hob continues. “Do you really think we’re still enemies?”

Dream opens his mouth to reply, Hob can hear the breath he takes, before he freezes, blinking in confusion as he realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

“I- We…” He stammers, and Hob just smiles.

“Exactly, love” Hob rises to his feet, pulling a small piece of wood from his pocket to add to the torch’s flame and keep it lit. He then extends a hand to Dream. “Come on, let’s get back to camp. It’s already dark, and it’ll only get colder”

Dream takes his hand, accepting the help. And they head in the direction Hob believes the camp is, making sure to look at the trees to try and find the markings Hob had made. But they can’t, the dark making it too hard to see properly, the torch isn’t helping all that much and Hob can feel Dream dragging behind him, they haven’t let go of each other’s hands. So eventually Hob just sighs.

“Let’s make a fire out of what we have for the torch and whatever we can find and sleep, we can find our camp once there’s daylight.” Hob stops, clearing a small area with his foot and starting to empty his pockets of what he brought to fuel the torch originally.

Dream stands aside, hugging himself due to the cold, he still trembles, and his eyes, nose and lips are still reddened from crying. “Are you sure?”

Hob nods, gathering some more sticks and dried leaves he’s able to find around, and carefully removing the coconut shell from the larger branch he’d attached it to, passing on the fire and feeding it with whatever he can find around. “Yeah, I’m sure.. Now come near the fire, You’re nearly blue” He’s already sitting on the ground as he holds his hand out once more, Dream goes over, taking his hand and sitting next to him, the fire immediately helps, he leans onto Hob, and Hob wraps an arm around him. They sit in silence for a while, soon moving to lay down after Hob fuels the fire for it to keep burning for a good while. They stay there, in each other’s arms without the excuse of warmth even though that is partially what it’s for. But it’s also because they simply wanted to.

After a while, Dream speaks again.

“...Hob?”

“Yes?” “I should tell you, about… Why I wanted to kill Roderick Burgess.”

Hob shifts slightly to look at Dream, pushing a little bit of his hair away from his face, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to..”

Dream sniffles, looking up at Hob. “But I should,” he whispers.

Hob presses his lips together, but then nods whispering. “Alright.”

Dream takes a deep breath in, hiding his face against Hob’s chest before starting. “You probably have heard the rumors; where people say I used to be of a noble family… And it’s true, my name is not Dream, even if it is the way I prefer to be called. It is Morpheus, and I am the second eldest child of the Endellais family… Or, I… Used to be”

“Morpheus…” Hob repeats, absentmindedly stroking Dream’s hair as he holds him close.

“Please do not call me that.. It is not my name, it hasn’t been, in a very long time…”

“Alright, I’m sorry…” Hob apologizes, before recalling where he’s heard that last name before. “Endellais… I’ve heard that name before… Weren’t they killed?”

Dream shakes his head no, tensing before he continues telling Hob about his past. “They were not, the king of Great Britain at the time believed they were because Burgess was the one ordered to kill us after the king was informed we’d be on sea…” Dream pauses, sucking in a shaky breath, and Hob holds him tighter. “I was given to him so they would be spared…”

Hob’s stomach drops at those words, “Oh… Oh, Dream…” He hugs Dream properly and puts his face in the crook of his neck, he feels Dream trembling, unsure if he’s crying, but holding him tight nonetheless.

“He wanted the heir, he wanted my elder sister. And when he found out I was not the heir, I became his slave, his punching bag, I was given the worst of jobs… And eventually I fled, met Merv, who was on my crew…” His voice cracks a bit, as the idea of having lost Merv, his crew and his ship finally fully dawns on him. “And became a pirate on his ship… Burgess could not send anyone after me, because how would he explain he wanted to go after a random worker boy?... And once I grew powerful enough, I vowed to kill him… Yet you got to him first…”

Hob stays in silence for a while, running his fingers through Dream’s hair, contemplating what was said. What was trusted with him.

“I’m sorry…” He says, at last. Staring into the fire he faces, chin resting on the top of Dream’s head.

“Don’t be,” Dream replies, moving his head from under Hob’s chin to look up at him. No longer crying “You couldn’t have known..”

Hob looks down to meet Dream’s eyes, moving his hand down to cup his cheek. “You know… If it makes you feel any better, I did make Burgess suffer while he died…” Hob opens a wide grin of his, and it makes Dream chuckle softly as he answers. “I believe he ‘screamed like a lass’?”

Hob blinks at Dream for a few seconds, then he remembers, huffing a laugh. “Oh! Oh, I remember that, he did, begged for mercy too”

Dream laughs alongside Hob as he’s reminded of the day they met, and the day Dream had declared him an enemy. “Mercy you did not give to him”

“Oh no, not at all… Burgess was a prick”

“That he was… Can I ask, why you wished to kill him, as well?” Dream asks, looking at Hob intensely, their faces mere inches apart, silence except from the crackling of the fire and occasional sound of the forest around them. They can mildly hear waves crashing against the beach they’d washed up on, but it’s faint, and far louder when at their quaint campsite.

Hob sighs, averting his gaze for a few seconds. “Well, apart from Burgess having given me and.. My father a hard time in the past, when I was a lad, he uhm… Had something of my father’s I couldn’t get when he died…”

“Oh,” It is Dream’s turn to be a bit speechless. “I… I see”

“Yeah, uhm… Suppose I lost it for good, now, huh?” Hob looks back up at Dream, chuckling a bit awkwardly.

“I suppose we both lost most of what we had ‘for good’...” Dream laments, and Hob nods, holding back the tears his eyes started stinging with.

“I know,” Hob says. “But I’d rather not think of that right now…”

“Understandable,” Dream replies. “Me either.”

Hob tilts Dream’s chin slightly up, so he’d look at him again. Then he asks: “Could I kiss you, so neither of us can think of our losses?”

Dream looks slightly flabbergasted at the request, he raises his eyebrows, eyes flickering down to Hob’s lips as he grins. “So, a distraction?”

Hob chuckles, “You could call it that… But you’d be distracted as well” he raises an eyebrow, grinning as he makes his offer.

“Hm, then I suppose I have no way to resist that kind of offer…” Dream whispers, and Hob’s grin widens as he leans forward, pressing their lips together in a gentle slow kiss, different from the first they’d shared, that had been frantic and heated, on the edge of desperate. They kiss and hold each other closer, while still being careful to not accidentally roll into the fire.

A stick breaks in the distance, and the two part immediately, gasping and sitting up, staring at the area the noise came from in startled silence as they make sure it isn’t the bear coming back.

They both sigh in relief as no bears emerge from the forest, and Hob moves to grab a stick and shove all the leaves into the more concentrated middle of the flame, before laying back down with Dream on the ground with a small sigh.

“We should get some sleep” Hob says, as Dream too, lays back down.

“We should” Dream agrees, nodding, “We’ll need food tomorrow”

“You hungry?” Hob asks, and all Dream does is nod again as he closes his eyes, turning to face Hob and relish in his body warmth. Hob curls himself into Dream, holding him close as he closes his eyes as well. “Me too”

In the morning, it is evident that it’s going to rain soon. So they’re quick to wake and set off in the direction their camp is.

Neither of them are quite sure what time of day it is once they arrive, due to the cloudy skies, but it takes quite a while of walking. They find their camp intact, thankfully but the fire has gone out due to neither of them being around to light it.

“Shit- We need the fire, especially if it’s going to rain…” Hob sighs, going over to the firepit and looking through the ashes for any embers that could help with a stick, before sitting down to start the process of lighting it again.

“I can hunt while you start another fire, it’d be easier that way” Dream suggests, and Hob looks up from where he’s sat, carving a hole into a piece of wood so he can create friction and heat with a stick, like how he’d first lit the fire.

“You sure?”

“Yes, it is more efficient than staying put and waiting. If it rains before we have food, it is another day for us to starve” Dream replies, and Hob nods.

“You’re right, take the sword, just in case”

Dream does, taking the sword and putting it on his belt. The specific sword was not his own, sadly, but a spare, seeing as it was in a crate.

He first makes it to the beach, walking along the sand. Most of the coconut trees had already been harvested by Hob, so he wonders further, finding an incline that leads to a calmer part of the sea, surrounded by rocky terrain. These waves aren’t as harsh as the ones closest to the camp. And just ahead, there is an area that stretches into a kind of lake.

He approaches to take a closer look, careful to not slip on sand or any of the rocks. And that’s when he sees something shimmering in the water, moving.

Fish, and plenty of them, all swimming around, unbeknownst of the fate Dream has planned for them. If only he still had his spear…

Without wasting any time, Dream rushes to the trees in search of a stick, branch or piece of bamboo long and sturdy enough for a new spear, his mouth waters with the idea of freshly cooked French Grunt, and he can nearly taste it as he finds a branch of the perfect size, proceeding to sit in the sand next to the lake, using the sword to carefully carveaway at the tip of the branch, sharpening it and making it pointed enough to pierce through the delicate scaly flesh of a fish.

Soon enough, the spear is done, and he shucks off his boots, rolling his pants up and slowly getting into the water, a hungry man on a mission. He stays still, waiting for the curious fish who have never seen a human being before approach, before lowering the spear into the water with all his might, impaling the fish. He lifts it up to inspect it, triumphant.

The other fish flee at the commotion, but in the time it takes for him to get a big enough leaf to put the fish on, the other, living fish have already completely forgotten that one of theirs has been killed. So Dream repeats the process a few more times. And once he has at least two fish for himself, and two for Hob, the sky has darkened, and thunder can be heard in the distance.

He gathers the fish he’s caught, putting them in his boots since he has nothing else to carry them with, taking them back to camp, ecstatic and eager to show Hob what he’s been able to catch. Dream finds Hob standing near the fire, tossing a piece of wood into the blaze he’s been able to reignite. Dream’s footsteps are light due to the fact that he’s barefoot, being extra careful to not step on any rocks or pointy sticks as he approaches.

“Hob!” he calls out, once close enough. And Hob turns around, smiling as he watches him approach.

“There you are, I was ready to head out after you if you took any longe- Are those fish?” Hob looks down at Dream’s boots, two good sized fish in each, already long dead from being impaled and out of water for so long. Dream’s boots are absolutely ruined, but he could care less. As Hob looks up at him with a bewildered expression, he beams.

“Yes! I found a portion of dead sea and carved a new spear and caught fish, and there’s still plenty so we can-” Dream is interrupted by Hob grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. It’s brief, a quick press of lips but enough to make Dream completely forget what he was saying as Hob pulls back.

Dream blinks, confused and slightly dazed. “What- what was that for..?”

Hob laughs, still holding his face gently. “Sorry, I just- couldn’t help myself.. Fish, oh, this is great, have you gutted them?”

Dream shakes his head no. “I have not, couldn’t do it with the sword, and also figured I was gone for too long, plus, it’s going to rain very soon” He looks up at the sky, dark clouds heavy with rain.

“Makes sense,” Hob takes one of the boots from Dream, heading back to their shelter and sitting on the ground near the fire, where the roof they’d made together keeps both them and their fire somewhat covered.

Dream follows, observing and waiting for Hob to gut the fish, barely even caring for the disgusting fish guts and strong odor of it all. Neither of them do. They want these fish cooked and in their stomachs as soon as possible.

Soon enough, the fish are cooking over the fire, and the first drops of rain have started to fall. They’ve brought all their dry firewood under the roof, so they won’t lose any fuel. Huddled up against each other, they watch the flames flicker and dance over the fish.

“Going to be all muddy tomorrow..” Hob laments, watching as the rain gets harder with each drop. Dream nods, head against Hob’s shoulder.

“If the sun comes back out, we could go swimming..” Hob suggests. “Haven’t been in the water for a bit, we’ll probably leave a trail of dirt floating around us” He chuckles, and Dream nods. “That would be nice” he turns one of the fish over, to cook on the other side. “We probably have a whole layer of dirt on us at this point”

Hob agrees with a nod, turning his head to whisper into Dream’s ear “I’ll gladly scrub it off you..” he purrs, a low, sensual tone, and Dream knows exactly what he’s doing, what he’s implying. It makes him shiver.

“I might like that” He replies, and all Hob does is chuckle, sitting back up.

Once the rain starts picking up, their fish has already been cooked through and ready to eat. They devour the fish, ravenous from barely having eaten anything decent since the bird Hob killed. But now they have knowledge of a constant source of food, they can eat fish every day until neither can even stand the smell of cooked fish, if it means surviving for longer.

That night, they fall asleep quickly, in each other’s arms, they use each other for warmth and comfort as the rain gets heavier, but not enough to get through the roof over their heads. By morning, the rain has subdued and the sun is out. The strong scent of petrichor fills the air with the amount of greenery around them, Hob blinks awake first, carefully untangling himself from Dream as he sits up, blearily rubbing his eyes as he tosses a piece of wood into the fire, that reduced to just a few blazes by now, and hoped it would pick up with fresh fuel without needing to be reignited. He stretches his arms, and his back, that sound a few uncomfortable pops due to sleeping on the ground for quite a few nights now. But nothing unbearable.

He turns his attention to Dream, who’s barely moved since he sat up, running his fingers through his hair and pushing it out of his face. A hint of stubble dusted over his hollow cheeks, they’ve both been getting skinnier the longer they’ve been here, and Hob’s stomach turns with dread as he realizes they may not be leaving this island alive, after all.

Hob shakes his head, deciding to not let that idea get to him. He nudges Dream gently, leaning down and caressing his cheek to wake him. “Dream, love, it’s morning..” The pet name slips out before he can even catch it. He already knew he was halfway gone once they’d kissed for the first time, he can’t even deny it, nor correct himself. If Dream catches his slip up, he might as well admit it.

Dream blinks awake, slowly, inhaling as he turns to look up at Hob, grumbling a groggy “What time is it?”

Hob chuckles softly, “Do you accept ‘earlier than noon’ as an answer? We don’t have any clocks, but the sun doesn't seem to be at it’s peak just yet..”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, sitting up and seeming to finally remember that they are, in fact, still on an island. “Ah, right. No clocks..”

“None” Hob says, getting out of their shelter and standing up. “Sun’s shining though, hopefully any mud will dry up nicely soon”

Dream follows, looking at their surroundings and grimacing when his bare feet sink into said mud. “Ugh. hopefully..”

He’d abandoned his boots due to them having been used as a container to transport the fish he’d caught, and been soiled with blood. He meant to wash them today and leave them out to dry. “And the sun’s out” Hob says, looking at Dream with a small smile and a heated gaze.

“It is,” Dream replies, with a look of his own. “Are you going to keep up on that offer of yours?”

“I just might,” Hob approaches Dream, and they’re of the same height, so their noses nearly bump from the proximity. “If you want me to”

Dream grins at this, tilting his head in a way where if one of them were to inch closer, their mouths would slot together. “I believe I would” he replies, stepping back and grinning as Hob sways forward, with the obvious intention of kissing Dream if he hadn’t moved.

“I assume it is time for us to scavenge?” he asks, grabbing his spear and handing it to Hob, who agrees, an intense gaze in his eyes.

And out they go, to the beach first. They find more ripe coconuts and are able to get a few mangoes from a mango tree they stumble upon. They head back to camp, consuming what they’ve harvested, completely covered in mud and dirt and sand from days without washing. So while the sun is still hot, they find themselves walking along the river, and they soon find a deeper portion of the freshwater without much of a tide, and they figure that it is perfect.

“Oh, here is very nice” He gives Dream a rakish grin, then starts tugging off his clothes, tossing them aside without much fanfare. And getting into the water. Dream watches as Hob’s back muscles flex with the coolness of the water compared to his heated skin. The water wasn’t completely clear, probably due to seawater being so closeby, but one could definitely see through it. The sun shimmered on the water and reflected thousands of perfectly smooth rocks that probably have never come into contact with human skin up until now- a deduction made due to how inhabited the island they were on seemed.

“What’re you waiting for, Dream? Come on!” Hob calls after him, proceeding to submerge in the water to get the upper portion of his body wet. And Dream smiles, stripping quickly and leaving his clothes alongside Hob’s, they’ll have to wash those soon and leave them out to dry before they can put them back on. But right now, they have other matters on their hands.

Hob watches him as he gets into the water, tentative, tensing as he shivers and walks over to where Hob stands. “This water is freezing!” he exclaims, holding his arms across his chest. Hob chuckles, forgetting that Dream runs far colder than him. “You’ll get used to it, you have to go under to get used to it faster”

Dream complies, pinching his nose and leaning backwards until his whole body is briefly underwater, standing back up straight and gasping softly at the temperature change.

“That help?” Hob moves closer, putting his hands on Dream’s arms.

“A little bit” Dream replies, pushing his wet hair back and looking at Hob through his eyelashes as they lean closer to each other.

“Maybe I can help more..” Hob suggests, voice dropping to a low, seductive tone.

“Perhaps you can,” Dream says, leaning forward to catch Hob’s lips with his.

The kiss is slow, careful. Neither of them are in much of a rush as they run their hands over each other’s bodies, sighing into each other’s mouths as they touch. And eventually, Hob’s hand descends down past Dream’s waist. They pull apart slightly for air.

“Can I..?”

“Please, do.” Dream presses himself closer so their chests touch, wrapping his arms around Hob’s neck, kissing him again as he feels Hob’s hand wrap around his half hard cock. Hob trails his mouth down Dream’s jaw and neck, kissing and nipping at his skin, now far cleaner than it’d been the first time he did this. Dream tilts his head back and lets out a pleased sigh as Hob strokes him slowly, running one of his own hands down to get a hold of Hob’s cock as well, stroking each other at a rhythm, they kiss and moan into each other’s mouths, pressing the lengths of their cocks together and rocking into one another. The water, up to around their waists, being both a nice addition and a bother as the coolness of it feels nicer than the sun, but the way it creates a vacuum between their bodies and splashes around with every movement.

They remain like this for a good while, pleasing each other slowly. The intensity builds up carefully, orgasm creeping up as Dream gasps and presses his face into the crook of Hob’s neck as the other man rubs his thumb over the slit of his cock. Dream grips Hob tighter and they both hold onto each other, eyes shut tight, as both of them chase after release, a multitude of waves drifting away from their bodies in the water, created by their movement, verging on frantic.

Dream lets out a whine, biting Hob’s shoulder as Hob twists his hand and he comes, shaking through it while Hob watches the viscous fluid float to the top and away in the river stream. He chuckles, easing Dream through it and moving both hands to his lower back.

Hob kisses Dream’s neck, groaning as he feels Dream come back to awareness by squeezing him, he pulls away, and so does Dream, looking at him with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Your turn,” Dream mutters against his lips as he pulls Hob back in, twisting his hand as he strokes him and rubbing the slit on his tip just as Hob had done to him.

Hob grunts and moans with each and every movement of Dream’s long, pianist fingers. One on his cock, the other raking through the thorough pelt of hair on his chest. And with a shudder, he too goes over the edge, spilling into the water in between their bodies.

They stand there together for a few lingering moments, sharing soft kisses and letting their hands wander.

After a while, Dream is the one to speak first. “We should wash our clothes before the sun starts going down”

Hob nods, letting out small puffs of breath against Dream’s lips “We should, yeah”

And that they do, the two men walk to the riverbank, gathering their clothes and washing the dirt out to the best of their abilities, then setting the garments on a rock to dry. They remain in the water, now scrubbing themselves clean, but they also touch, and kiss, and splash each other before sitting on the rock beside their clothes and waiting for their bodies to dry.

Dream chuckles as he sits on the rock, looking up at the sky and allowing the sunlight to kiss his already sunkissed shoulders. “I needed that..”

Hob sits next to him, trying to find a good spot to sit on. “What, the bath, or the shag?”

“Both” He laughs, and so does Hob, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“You know, I’ve got no idea how you do it”

“Do what?” Dream looks at him, curious.

“Stay in the sun so long when you’re as pale as a ghost.. That has to burn, doesn't it?” Hob says, running a hand up his arm.

“It used to,” Dream replies, shivering a bit at Hob’s touch. “I do still get fevers if in direct sunlight for too long”

“Makes sense, you were feverish when I found you”

“I was also injured”

Hob takes his hands to caress over the area that’d been friction burnt by the sand, mostly healed, just a few dried up scabs here and there. “But you’re better now”

“I am.” Dream turns his head, pulling Hob closer into another kiss, Hob tilts his head for a better angle, they pull back after a moment, and Dream looks at Hob.

“Hob?”

“Yes?” He brings up a hand to caress Dream’s cheek, running his fingertips over his sharp cheekbone.

“Do you think we will ever leave this island?” he asks, barely a whisper.

“I think we will,” Hob replies, eventually. “Don’t let yourself lose hope”

Dream shakes his head. “It’s not that,”

“Then what is it?”

Dream chuckles, smiling at Hob and looking at him through his eyelashes. “I was just thinking… Once we leave…”

Hob nods, listening intently to what Dream has to say.

“I’d like you to fuck me on a proper bed…”

Hob sputters, and Dream grins, watching Hob cough to recompose himself, reveling in how his cheeks turn pink.

“Well then,” Hob manages, chuckling softly. “We just might have to get started on making a raft, don’t we?”

The next two days are mostly the same for the pirates.

They’ve decided to build a raft, so they spend their daylight hours gathering materials for it along with enough food to keep them energized. Dream catches fish for them while Hob goes around gathering bamboo and pieces of wood large enough to start building a raft, they eat, and then the two wrack their vaguely malnourished brains on how the hell to make a raft without any nails or any sort of supply other than what they can find on the island.

“Perhaps if we tie this here, and put this piece of bamboo here, it’ll be sturdy enough to not sink?” Dream suggests, showing Hob what he meant then sitting back in the sand. The day had decided to be particularly hot, and despite Hob’s protests to him being in the sun for too long, Dream insisted on going to the beach to help him.

“Hm.. Yeah, I think that could work…” Hob ponders, wrapping more ripped fabric around it, from tatters that’d done the grace of washing up on shore for their use. Although neither of them wanted to think too hard about where it’d come from. Or more specifically, from who it had come from.

They’re nearly done with a brute, first attempt at a raft when they hear yelling.

Hob blinks, confused. Looking up at Dream. “Did you.. Did you hear that..?”

Dream looks up at the same time Hob does, looking equally confused. “Yes, I did…” He rises to his feet, looking around curiously, then turning to face the sea, shielding his eyes from the sun and squinting them.

Dream gasps, eyes widening. “Hob.. Hob! Look!” He points to the horizon, a wide smile appearing on his face as Hob scrambles to his feet, knees nearly giving out once he sees what Dream is showing him.

A ship. With someone up on the foremast, waving their arms at them.

Hob could cry, he yells back and waves his arms from where he is, and so does Dream. They watch as the ship comes closer, any items they had found completely left behind at the happiness and relief of being rescued.

A rowboat descends into the water, and makes their way toward them. “Come on!” Hob exclaims, going into the water to meet it, Dream on his tail. They swim to the boat, and are met with familiar faces as they’re helped on.

“Shit! Gadling!” Jo helps Hob onto the boat, pulling him up first with the assistance of another man. Who Dream recognizes as one of his own. “Matthew!” He breathes once it’s his turn, he’s tugged onto the rowboat, mostly by Hob, who gets a confused look from Jo, as they sit next to each other once they're on, the boat wobbling slightly with the added weight.

“Captain, I- I can’t believe you’re alive, we thought you were dead!” Matthew looks like he could cry, placing a hand on Dream’s shoulder, hesitant.

Dream laughs and pulls him into a hug. “I thought everyone else had died.” he admits, as Matthew pulls away and smiles at him. “Thankfully, still here, captain.”

Johanna pulls Hob into a tight hug “Can’t believe you did it again! You bastard, scared the shit outta me” she pulls away and sniffs, wiping a tear from her eye. “And with Nightmare on the same island, of all people.. How the hell did you not kill each other?”

Hob laughs wetly, tears streaming freely down his cheeks. “Long story…” He admits. “But we’ve made up. Now can we please get to the ship?”

Matthew rows them back to the bigger ship, unfamiliar and smaller than whatever they’d had. Both are greeted with small parts of their respective crews that had somehow, also survived. Yet significantly reduced from what it’d been before the storm.

Dream receives a tight hug from Lucienne, who seemed to be healing from an injury to her arm, but nothing that seemed too bad. And a wide grin from Corinthian, who, despite losing an eye, he too seemed fine. Happy that at least a few of his closest crewmates had survived, along with a few other of his hands. Even if Merv was not amongst them, he would grieve and honor him once he was fed and rested.

Hob, on the other hand. Received a warm welcome from his portion of his crew, noticing the lack of many faces, yet he too would grieve and honor those fallen and taken by the sea.

The two captains are given separate rooms, both their quartermasters suspicious of, yet not mentioning the strange, newfound friendliness between them. They bathe separately, are given new clothes and as the small, yet sturdy crew celebrate the survival of their captains, their friends. On their way to a Pirate Cove, to restock and get the two rescued men to proper health before venturing back into the mighty seas. Captain Gadling and Captain Nightmare, or rather. Hob and Dream are found together in one of the rooms, fast asleep curled up against one another.

“Well this is an interesting turn of events..” Jo says, blinking at the scene, a small grin on her face as she turns to Lucienne.

“It certainly is…” The other woman agrees, gazing upon the sight with the same intrigued grin.

“Should we..?”

“I do not think it’d be very appreciated” Lucienne chuckles, and Jo considers, nodding.

“You’re right.. Guess this’ll be something to ask about in the morning.”

“In the morning, yes. I believe they’ll be more willing to provide explanations once they’re more rested.”

Lucienne and Jo leave the two be, any gossip spreading like wildfire amongst the small crew would be dealt with at a later time. And in the morning, Dream and Hob wake up in each other’s arms, and decide, right then and there…

That not a single day would ever pass with them apart again. No one and nothing could separate them now, and if it came as a surprise to anyone in their crew, despite seeing how they acted around each other the night prior.

Well, it’s not like they’d tried very hard to hide it either, did they?

A Few Months Later…

The salty breeze of the sea kissed Captain Nightmare’s cheeks and threatened to knock his tricorne right off his head if it got any stronger.

He closed his eyes and inhaled its scent. Oh how he’d missed this.

For the past few months, he, Hob and their newly conjoined crew had laid low, staying put on land to recover until their homesickness for the beautifully unpredictable sea was unbearable.

They’d traveled by foot and wagon to a nearby village where Hob had stashed some of his own riches, enough to pay their expenses until both of them were well enough to travel by sea again, and visit their other locations where they had hidden stashes of riches. And here they are, traveling to one of Dream’s hidden locations, after having stolen a vessel from a dock, which they’d lovingly named “Jessamy’s Revival”, for the fact that both men truly feel like they’d been revived back from the dead after their shipwreck, as if their lives before had truly been another entirely.

Hob approaches from behind, snaking his arms around Dream’s waist kissing his lover’s cheek and purposefully tilting his tricorne so it’s crooked. “What are you up to over here, love?” Hob leans his chin onto Dream’s shoulder, looking in the same direction Dream is.

“Just admiring the view” Is his answer, he places his hands over Hob’s, stroking his thumb over the thin hairs on the back of Hob’s hand. “Reminiscing on how I’d missed this”

Hob hums, “I missed this too” He replies, followed by nice, companionable silence, listening to the waves hitting the ship, and the low chatter of their hands lower on the deck, walking about, working...

Their hands, Dream enjoys that, their ship, their crew, them. Word must’ve gotten out by now, but he could care less. If anyone dared come between him, Hob and their crew, he’d resolve it personally.

“Captains?” A voice calls, they both turn to see Lucienne. “I’m sorry to interrupt…” She adds, a small smile on her face, Dream knows she isn’t entirely sorry.

“You’re not interrupting anything, Loosh, don’t worry” Hob smiles at her. “What do you need?”

“I’ve just come to inform you that by our maps, we should be arriving at where we need to be in a few day’s time”

“Splendid, Lucienne, thank you” Dream nods at her, and she informs them that dinner should soon be ready, if Cain stops threatening to add Abel into tonight’s stew.

Hob chuckles, leaning his forehead onto Dream’s shoulder at that information. “Those two… Amazing cooks when they work together, but someone always has to keep an eye on them”

Dream smiles, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through Hob’s hair, as he looks forward again, admiring the setting sun and the hues of orange and purple that bleed into the sky.

“So that’s why Johanna is always in the kitchen with them?”

“Yup, bloody terrified of her, they are… Only way for them to keep the fighting down”

They both chuckle softly at that, their laughter dying down into pleasant silence once more. They remain alone on the upper deck until someone below chimes the bell calling everyone to eat, they move to join the rest of their crew, when thunder rumbles, a warning, still far away.

Hob looks at the sky, then at Dream. “Storm’s coming…”

Dream looks up at the sky, then meets Hob’s gaze. “Let it come,” he grins, taking Hob’s hand and starting his descent to meet the rest. “It’s not like we haven’t been through worse.”

“No, it’s not. Whatever storm comes, we can survive it.” Hob follows.

“Together,”

“Together.” They make their way down to their crew, their friends, their family.

And they have their dinner.