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The soft coo of a mourning dove wakes Jeremy from his blissfully dreamless sleep. He takes his time to blink his eyes open, breathing in the sweet-smelling air of the apple orchard outside. The leaves of the trees rustle with the breeze, creating a kaleidoscope of ever-moving dappled light through the stained glass windows onto the soft, downy comforter covering the lower half of his and Jean’s bodies. Jeremy’s eyes wander up the duvet to Jean’s strong chest, watching as his husband’s chest rises and falls in even breaths. The prismatic display somehow, impossibly, makes Jean look more beautiful – his pale skin and even paler scars seem to almost reflect the colors back to the window.
Ethereal , Jeremy thinks as he carefully rolls over to face his lover. His hand hovers a hair’s breadth above Jean’s stomach as he traces the familiar scars, memorizing them again for the hundredth time. He follows the twisted trail of long-healed wounds, closing his eyes briefly when he lingers on Jean’s neck for a moment too long. Jeremy continues on, unable to suppress a smile when he finally arrives at Jean’s stoic face. Even in sleep, he never quite loses the crease between his brows, though rest relaxes the majority of his features, making Jean look achingly young.
Jeremy loses track of how long he admires Jean’s peaceful face. The mosaic slowly shifts down the comforter as the sun continues to rise. It took years for Jean to learn to sleep in; Jeremy can’t help but remember his own final year at USC, waking up in the middle of the night to find Jean awake and alert. Once they began dating, Jean’s steely gaze was often the first thing Jeremy laid eyes on in the morning. After 10 years together and 11 years away from the Nest, Jeremy now has the privilege of admiring his husband in the late morning light. Even with the farm chores that Jean lovingly tends to at the brink of dawn most days, he allows himself the sweet relief of Sunday mornings to remain in bed.
Jean’s dream of a farm, from what he’s told Jeremy, was born from a late morning in his first year at USC after Coach Rhemann had brought him home. The fondness that Jean spoke of his hands in the dirt, of Rhemann’s kind words and calloused hands, of the peace that settled in his body for the first time in his young life told Jeremy all that he needed to know.
He first mentioned it after they won their first Olympic Gold – the team was celebrating, most of them drunk or riding the high of their win, and Jean allowed himself one drink more than normal. Jeremy had finally pried Kevin’s octopus arms off of his shoulders when he saw his husband tucked in a corner of the bar with none other than Neil and Andrew Minyard-Josten. A smile played across Jeremy’s face as he took the scene in. The Minyard-Jostens had been frequent guests over the years, a surprise to everyone except the men themselves. Jeremy knew that Jean considered Neil and Andrew kindred souls to some extent; while Jean did his best to keep Jeremy away from the mafia ongoings, Jeremy knew enough to understand that Neil did more than most people would to protect Jean. The Moriyamas had collapsed only a year ago, something that Jean still struggles to believe some days.
Neil was a bit flushed, clearly following Jean’s lead in indulging in Andrew’s favorite whiskey. He was tucked into his husband’s side, Andrew’s hazel eyes never straying far from Neil’s lax form.
“Do you ever think about what you’ll do when you’re done with Exy?” Neil asked, nodding to Jeremy as he joined their trio. Jeremy sank into the seat next to Jean, turning a curious look to his husband. Jean swirled his drink in his hand, a pensive look on his handsome face.
“A farm. A place for gardens and unwanted animals,” Jean replied, steady and sure with his lilting French charm. “Somewhere that stars are bright and I can feel the earth.”
Jeremy wrapped his arm around Jean, pressing close and imagining a life together away from the chaos of the big city.
“I can’t imagine not being within fifteen minutes of an Exy court,” Neil admitted after a beat. “But that sounds great for you. It would give Jabber some room to run.”
“That rodent won’t know what to do with himself.” Jean smiled, a small thing that still sent Jeremy’s heart aflutter.
Jean’s slate eyes finally open now, that same smile such a gift on Jeremy’s Sunday morning.
“Good morning, mi amor,” Jean murmurs, sliding his hand behind Jeremy’s head and pulling him in for a soft, sweet kiss. Jeremy sighs, pressing closer to Jean.
“Good morning, love,” Jeremy responds. He opens his mouth to say more when his stomach rumbles. Jean laughs quietly, pushing the blanket fully off of them both, exposing their naked bodies to the cool air.
“We should remedy your needy stomach before making sure Westley got everyone up and out this morning.” They both agree, though their neighbor Westley has never encountered any issues in the few years he has been helping them on Sunday mornings. Jean pulls on a robe while Jeremy opts for a pair of shorts, making for the kitchen after dressing.
Coffee is brewed, apple pancakes are prepared and promptly demolished, and finally the call of their orchard coaxes Jean, Jeremy, and Jabberwocky to the front door.
Jabberwocky pushes his snout between the porch door and its frame, slipping his tiny body through with a soft creak before Jeremy and Jean open it for themselves. Jeremy takes a deep breath, enjoying the sweet autumn air. Their hundred-year-old orchard has kept them busy this season with an abundance of fruit needing to be picked almost daily. Every September, their friends begin to arrive to help them with their excess apples. Jean often feigns annoyance with the near-constant visitors, but Jeremy knows that they both love having their friends and family with them at Suivre le Soleil Farm. The picking season is almost over; Renee and her mother will join them in three days to help them finish collecting the stragglers.
Jeremy looks over to where Jean is gazing out past their barn of rescue animals to the sunflower field that Jean had painstakingly planted their first spring on the farm. Their friends teased him about truly embracing the Sunshine Court in all aspects with the bright flower, but Jeremy knows that the flowers mean more to Jean than their beauty. They search for the sun, forever chasing its warm rays, reaching higher and higher to feel the sweet caress.
Reaching his hand out, Jeremy intertwines their fingers, pressing his palm flush to Jean’s. Jean looks over to him, his dark hair falling into his eyes, looking beautiful and perfect and like Jeremy’s wildest dream come true.
“If we were two sunflowers,” Jean says after a few moments of comfortable silence, his voice washing over Jeremy in waves. “I would have faced you instead of the sun.”
Jeremy’s heart skips a beat. This impossible man stands in front of him despite everything, always seeking to better himself and the lives of the people and animals around him.
“And people say I’m the sappy one,” Jeremy replies as he leans up, pressing their bare chests together as he kisses Jean with a slow, syrupy rhythm. They stay wrapped in each other until Jabber’s insistent barks lead them to the barn, following their sun once again.