Work Text:
Painter woke up to the darkness of the early morning hours. While his eyes were getting used to the dim room, he instinctively looked for the art supplies he kept in his bedroom, then hazily remembered he was not home.
As he got up, he fixed his wrinkled coat and bow tie as best as he could. He had not intended to sleep here at Poet's house, but as it often happened when the two of them got together for a heated late-night debate over the merits and flaws of various artistic and literary movements, the dispute last night had somehow ended with the two of them cuddling up until they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.
He was surprised that he had awakened so early - he usually did so when he was alone, as he was the early to bed and early to rise type, but whenever he would stay over at a friend's house and up into the night, the change in routine often caused him to oversleep the next morning. Usually, whenever he spent the night at Poet's, he would wake up to find a neatly written note informing him that his host had already left for the refectory.
But it was way too early for breakfast, and there was no sign of Poet in the bedroom.
As he quietly walked down the stairs, Painter caught glimpse of a flickering light across the open first floor room.
Over there, contrasting with the otherwise spartan and tidy room, was a small writing desk surrounded by crowded bookshelves. The desk itself was almost entirely covered with books, as well as half-filled parchments, some of them discarded as crumpled balls of paper.
And sitting at the desk was a very focused smurf, busily pushing his quill against a parchment, the dancing light and shadows emanating from the candle adding to his features an extra air of intensity. He was so engaged in his writing that he did not notice Painter approaching.
" How I love to sit by the riverbank
As the sound of waves... oh, I'm drawing a blank."
Poet mumbled to himself, then turned the piece of parchment into another paper ball in exasperation, before throwing it carelessly, hitting Painter in the process.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I hadn't heard you coming."
Painter rubbed the part of his forehead where the ball had hit, more in amusement over his friend's sudden outburst than in any sort of pain. "You're up early."
"I have to. This is the only time I can enjoy some peace and quiet. As soon as everyone starts waking up, their prattling gets so loud that I can barely hear myself smurf! Even the forest gets beset by noise as the day goes by." Poet let out a heavy sigh. "Although, I'm afraid I'm not getting any work done today. My Ode to the River Smurf is due for the boat parade next week and I am devoid of inspiration."
He did a little pout and looked down in disappointment.
Despite the circumstances, Painter could not help but marvel over how adorable his partner looked as he was frowning. He grabbed Poet's chin and lifted his head up affectionately.
"Maybe you just need some more time." He glanced at one of the windows and considered the faint glow in the distance hinting at the approaching daylight. "I, too, have a morning routine of sorts. If you're willing to come with me, I will show you something that might smurf your creativity."
The village was still asleep, engulfed in silence save for the occasional cries of nearby birds as they roused. The smell of morning dew lingered in the air. Before they left, Painter signaled his partner to wait for him as he stopped by his house to collect an easel, as well as some paint and brushes.
They hiked through the forest, among lush winding trails, sometimes venturing in paths so overgrown with vegetation they could barely be recognized as such.
Poet would have worried they might get lost had it not been for his companion's assurance. He followed Painter he skillfully made his way through despite the weight of the easel.
Finally, at the break of dawn, they arrived on a tall cliff overseeing a large portion of the forest. Below, you could see the River Smurf flow among the trees.
Poet gasped in wonder. "My, what a beautiful view!"
"The best is yet to come," Painter assured while he prepared his equipment.
As the sun slowly rose, an endless amount of colors emerged from the sky, their hues tinting the land below. The river awash with colors was glimmering under the sunlight.
Painter was already hard at work. "I come here almost everyday just to paint the sunrise. C'est magnifique, non? But it's also fleeting. You need to be quick to capture the moment, before the colors disappear. Each sunrise is unique in subtle ways, and you will never quite get to experience the same sight again. Although, today's is especially memorable."
"How so?"
Painter turned to Poet and gave him a kiss. "Because you're here with me!"
They stayed there until mid-morning, as Painter put the final touches on his picture, and Poet composed his ode with renewed inspiration.