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Heartland VIII: Morning-Gold

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Autumn frost,
Morning-cold,
Autumn leaves,
Morning-gold.



Sarah Jean O’Reilly
"Autumn Gold"
1959 C.E.

For once, Bruce was the first one awake with the sun. He propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at his companion, who was still sound asleep.

The rays of the sun crept across the hardwood floor of Clark’s old bedroom here on the farm, dust motes swirling as the golden light pierced the partially-drawn blinds. Clark never slept in complete darkness. He wanted to catch those rays in the morning, and Bruce had finally gotten used to sparkly gold dancing around his head at ungodly hours.

The sheets and blanket were pushed down, revealing Clark’s smooth chest, perfect skin beginning to glow as the sunlight caressed him. The Superman curl drooped over his brow, his face serene in sleep, free from the cares of a world that crowded in on all-too-often with his super-hearing and other senses that a caring heart could rarely turn off. Blue-black hair shone with lustrous health, and his lips were curved into a half-smile as he slept the sleep of the truly good.

Or like a God of the Sun taking his leisure.

Bruce smiled. For Clark, the farm was better than Mount Olympus, though Diana said that Aphrodite had issued an invitation for them to visit during the full Harvest Moon.

He could smell the mouth-watering aroma of bacon, eggs, and sausages cooking downstairs in the kitchen, Martha already up and ready to start the new day, Jonathan already out in the barn milking the cows. She had promised that she would bake them an apple pie from the fruit of their harvest, and it would be heaven. From the maple tree by the window, a robin sang a cheery good morning as Bruce smiled, thinking of their own cheery robin asleep across the hall.

It was Halloween morning, and the leaves blew in the wind and the frost was on the Jack O’Lanterns on the porch as the air whispered with the promise of magic, none more so than the good fortune that he had found in this bed and in his heart.

He laid his hand on Clark’s chest, reassured by the strong, steady heartbeat, and lightly stroked that perfect skin, warm and smooth under his touch. Here was everything he had never known he had wanted wrapped up in a gorgeous package of Kryptonian beauty, lit with inner sunlight. He leaned down and kissed Clark’s chest, his lover’s eyes fluttering open as Bruce raised his head to meet unearthly blue, tiny sparkles of sunlight reflecting in eyes that held Bruce’s soul.

They kissed good morning as the sunlight illuminated the room in glorious gold.