Chapter Text
"Hey! Gadling! Your 4 o'clock is here. Signed in and everything." One of Hob's coworkers yelled out to him, directing an absolutely breathtaking man towards him.
He was tall and lean, but walked through the hallway slowly, slightly curled into himself. Anyone else might have taken it for shyness, but Hob had been working as a professional masseuse for several years, and he could see the pain wracking his frame.
"Hi!" Hob smiled warmly, "I'm Hob. Well, Robert, actually, but everyone calls me Hob.”
He nodded in acknowledgement, and offered his own name.
Dream.
It would have been presumptuous and pretentious on any other person but… It suited him.
Hob ushered Dream into the room, pointing out the hooks for him to hang up his clothes on and the shorts he could wear for the session, and quietly promised to knock when he returned.
He made his way to the front desk to grab Dream’s sign in sheet, quickly skipping through his personal contact information to read about his requested treatment and special requests.
He was a dancer. Suffering from several stress injuries from the performance season, and had carpal tunnel syndrome.
He’d signed up for several weekly sessions in hopes of speeding up his recovery.
Well, he’d come to the right place. Hob would be happy to help him in any way he could. He made his way back to the room, knocking twice.
“Dream? May I come in?”
“You may.”
Hob opened the door a crack, slipping in before any of the cold air of the hallway could seep in. Dream was perched on the massage table, and had wrapped himself up in a towel.
“Is it too cold in here? Should I turn up the temperature?”
Dream shook his head once, reluctantly unwinding his fingers from the maroon fabric. “No. I am… unused to being in such a state of undress. My apologies.”
“No, no. Nothing to apologise for. It’s pretty common, actually.” Hob made his way to the counter and picked up a bottle of lavender oil. “Most people who come through here are shy about something or the other. It’s okay though. Bodies are bodies. They’re all normal.”
“My line of work encourages people being… shy, as you put it, about their bodies.”
“Mine doesn’t,” Hob said firmly. “Anyone and everyone can come in here and get the relaxation and pampering they need.”
His words seemed to reassure Dream, and he let the towel slip from his shoulders.
“Would you lie down, please? Face down, if you’re okay with that first.”
A dancer.
Hob could see it in the smoothness of his movements as he climbed fully onto the table, and spread out in an elegant sprawl. Hob guided him to put his face in the opening and spread out a warm towel over him.
“It says here that you’re recovering from a few injuries.”
“That is correct.”
“You’ve also asked for me to use heavy pressure.”
“…That is also correct.” He sounded hesitant, less sure of himself, and Hob’s heart ached for everyone in Dream’s line of work.
“May I ask if there’s a particular reason for that? It’s fine if you don’t, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything.”
“A coworker suggested that it would aid my recovery?”
“Hm. I gotta do it if you really want but… May I make a suggestion? Let me start with standard. We can work out what feels okay as we go along today, and then we can work it up over later sessions if need be.”
“You need not worry about minor discomfort, Robert.”
“I’m worried about hurting you more if I use heavy pressure, Dream. I don’t know your body and injuries yet.”
Dream sighed. “Very well. You are the expert here.”
Hob frowned, but chose to let his resignation go for the moment, asking Dream for details about his injuries.
“In all honesty, I am not completely certain of them. I primarily experience pain in the ankles, knees, shoulders and back. The bones feel fine, so I believe the injuries are muscular in nature.” He spoke clinically, as if his body was an unrelated third party.
“Alright. Understood. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
Dream nodded but, despite the reassurance, remained tense as Hob clambered onto the massage table.
So Hob started slow, gently pressing him down through the towel, keeping an ear out for any sounds of discomfort or pain, but Dream remained remarkably silent.
“Let me know if anything hurts? Anything at all. You don’t have to be embarrassed about needing me to be gentler.”
Dream nodded again, and murmured out a “Pressure’s fine.”
Still, Hob gentled his motions whenever he reached a joint that Dream had admitted to hurting, carefully pressing in with his thumbs as he moved upwards.
He warned Dream before he folded back the towel and poured a bit of oil onto the small of his back, and the dancer shuddered.
Within a minute of starting on his back, Hob was extremely glad he’d talked Dream down from heavy pressure. The muscles in his back were tense and frequently spasmed harshly, and he let out soft, pained noises every so often. He didn’t ask Hob to lighten up, but Hob did it anyways, before stopping completely.
He lifted his head up and tried to twist enough to look at Hob. “Is everything alright?”
“I should be asking you that, Dream.”
“Oh. I am alright. You may continue.”
“Your muscles are spasming like no one’s business. I don’t think that’s alright.”
“That is normal. “
“No. No, it’s not. The fact you don’t realise that is worrying.” Hob hesitated, climbing down so he could talk to dream easily, “I’m honestly surprised that you’re managing to walk like this.”
Dream was quiet for a moment, then spoke in a small voice, “It is fine.” It came out more questioning than he has probably hoped, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Hob.
Hob’s heart clenched in a flood of sympathy and compassion, and he spread the oil over Dream’s back with absolutely no pressure as he tried to think of what to say.
“Dream, I’m going to be very honest here for a minute. I think your injuries are a lot worse than you assumed, and I don’t believe you have the support system you need to make a full recovery. You came in here asking for heavy pressure. That’s not something you do when you’re hurt. The fact that you’re obviously in so much pain but no one around you has recognised it is very much not fine!”
“It’s not normal?”
Hob sighed. In all his years, he’d never come across someone so utterly clueless about a normal state of being. “No, Dream. Believe it or not, but the normal amount of pain is zero. And if something hurts, you’re not supposed to have to work through the pain.”
“Oh.” He turned his gaze up to Hob’s face, filled with pain but ever so much hope.
Hob so desperately wanted to give him a hug. He’d obviously never had someone actually tell him his pain was valid. That he didn’t have to bear any amount of pain needlessly.
“What— what would you recommend? For it to be… normal?”
“You made the right decision coming here, at least. We can help, but only if you let us. Today, I’m going to be as gentle as I possibly can. I’m going to get you some hot oil to help you warm up and relax, and then we’ll try to pinpoint the exact sources of pain. Does that sound okay?“
Dream nodded slowly, and then settled back down for Hob to wipe away the cold oil and cover him up again while Hob started up the warmer.
They started again, now impossibly gentle and slow. The hot oil helped immeasurably, with the warmth coaxing Dream’s muscles to relax. Hob lost himself in his work, immensely pleased when Dream’s body eventually realised he was there to help, and suddenly went limp on the table.
Dream’s occasional pained whimpers slowly turned to relieved groans, especially when Hob worked out the knots in his neck and shoulders, murmuring an apology under his breath when he had to force some particularly stubborn knots loose. This was his favourite part of his job, when he had helped someone so thoroughly that there was a clear relief shining through on their body.
“We doing okay?” Hob asked softly from where he was finishing up on Dream’s ankles, the strained tendons now noticeably more relaxed when Dream flexed his toes.
“Mmm. Yes. Should I turn over?”
Hob held back a laugh at Dream’s adorably sleepy voice, now another octave lower. “Yeah. Unless you think anything here needs any more attention.”
Dream didn’t respond verbally, smoothly rising and turning onto his back with that same fluid grace. He opened his eyes in surprise when Hob gently slid a pillow under his head, as if he’d never had anyone care for something like that for him. Hob now firmly that really might was the case.
“Comfortable?”
Dream’s impossibly eyes slid shut again, and he breathed out a soft “Yes. Feels good. Don’t remember the last time it felt good. Think I’m floating.”
Hob laughed now, “That’s the endorphins. I’m glad you’re feeling good. Means I’m doing my job right.”
Dream hummed, tucking his arms under the towel. “You are.”
So Hob continued, working on Dream’s tight quadriceps and adductor muscles until he was positively purring. Hob didn’t comment on it, content to have a constant stream of feedback. He enjoyed this part of his job a lot too, when his patient was so fully relaxed that they were nearly asleep. He found that people tended to be the most open and genuine at that point, and it was nice to see it in a world where everyone wore hundreds of masks every day.
Finally, they made it up to the part Hob was simultaneously terrified of and more excited for than professionally appropriate.
“Are you okay with oil on your face? Won’t be too much, just a pinch.”
“’S okay. Don’t mind.” Dream was still ready to fall sleep, despite how much force Hob had just had to use to loosen up his pectoral muscles.
Dream had a jaw and cheekbones that could probably cut glass. With Hob’s large, calloused hands on him, Dream’s face looked even more gaunt. He had clenched his jaw subconsciously when Hob lightly traced the contours of his face. He pressed with the tips of his fingers and worked from his temples to his jaw, and Dream’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hey there.”
“Hello.”
“Still doing okay?”
“Yes.”
“You wanna sit up for the head massage or this is okay?”
“Whatever you like.”
“Hm, okay. Sit up and shift back, please.”
Dream complied, pushing himself up on arms that seemed reluctant to support him, and listed backwards, only for Hob to catch him.
“Mm. Sorry.”
Hob laughed again, and arranged Dream so he was comfortably leaning against him. “Nah, it’s okay. Relax.”
He threaded his fingers into the shock of jet black hair, finding Dream’s pressure points and carefully working at them till Dream moaned in relief. Hob kept going, much longer than he usually would, even when his watch beeped to tell him it was 5:30pm, simply because it was clearly helping Dream so much. He alternated between long, sweeping motions and tight circular ones, gentle but firm, and Dream slipped further away from wakefulness.
Unfortunately, they still had to stop eventually, and Dream blearily opened his eyes when Hob retracted his hands.
“Done? Already?”
“We’ve gone fifteen minutes over, actually. You seemed to enjoy it and I don’t have any more appointments today.”
“I did enjoy it. I thank you for your recommendation.”
“You’re very welcome. Let me get you a robe and then you can go for a steam bath. Then you can shower here, or let the oil soak for a bit and shower at home.”
Dream’s breath caught, and he started defensively curling into himself again.
“Dream? What’s wrong?”
“Is the steam bath necessary?”
“No. Of course not. It’s up to you.”
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and Hob’s brows furrowed. He decided to ask the question.
“Why don’t you know you have autonomy, Dream? Why are you surprised when something is your choice?”
Dream looked down. “Have you heard of the Burgess scandal? You should have, it pertains to your line of work.”
“Those guys who ran a spa that worked with some theatre? Tried some blackmail scheme for money?”
“Yes. Their scheme was to hold a dancer hostage for quite a large sum of money. One that the theatre couldn’t afford.”
The pieces fell into place. “Shit. Dream, I’m so sorry for bringing it up.”
“You did not. It is okay, Hob. My point was simply why I am uncomfortable with chambers like saunas and steam baths. I have spent plenty of time in them already.”
“I understand. I’m sorry. That it happened, I mean.”
“It is over now. That is what matters.”
“Maybe. I’d say what matters is that you recover from the incident thoroughly.”
“Perhaps you are right.”
“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”
“Yes. I think I will shower after. My sister said it is good for the skin.”
“She’s right.” Hob said softly, glad that there was at least someone that Dream was close to that had some common sense, if not enough to see how much Dream was hurting. “I’ll get you some tea and get the formalities done.”
Hob left the room quickly, every conversation playing heavily on his mind. He’d never met anyone who fired up his instinct to wrap in a blanket and bubble wrap and keep safely in a cosy room where nothing could hurt them as quickly as Dream did. Hob went through the motions of making green tea, pouring in a dollop of honey to sweeten it up, and pulled up the feedback and next session booking forms by the time Dream emerged.
“You feeling okay?” Hob asked meaningfully, passing the tray over to Dream.
“Yes. Thank you, Hob.” Dream wrapped his fingers around the teacup, enjoying the flood of heat seeping into his hands.
They sat in a companionable silence as Dream finished his tea, and meticulously filled out his forms. It was a strange thing, the silence. Hob would ordinarily chatter aimlessly, but even the most emotionally oblivious person on the planet would be able to tell that Dream was completely wrung out. So Hob kept quiet, sipped at his water bottle and smiled when Dream ticked ‘Exceptional’ on every performance parameter.
“Get some rest, Dream. You might not feel like it has, but your body has worked very hard right now.” Hob said quietly, taking back the tray and clipboard.
Dream nodded wordlessly, and buttoned up his coat, despite the early spring warmth.
“See you soon, Dream.” He said, as the black-clad man opened the door to leave.
Hob looked at the booking form in front of him as the door clicked shut, specifically at the box that let the client request the same therapist.
“Next Friday, apparently.”