Genres: Fluff (Sooo Soft!), Historical (Sort Of), Humor (Hopefully), Romance (A Touch), Slice-Of-Life (With Chocolate-y Goodness!)
Summary: Clark and Bruce attend an Egyptian lecture at The Metropolis Museum Of Fine Arts.
Date Of Completion: May 17, 2017
Date Of Posting: June 3, 2017
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1059
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Happy Birthday, mithen! :) I know you’ve had to sit through a lot of academic lectures, but I’m betting they were never like this! ;)
Like a God
Bathed in gold,
Of my heart.
“Leaves Of Trees”
“During the Eighteenth Dynasty, Akhenaten instituted the sole worship of Ra, the Sun God, referred to during that time as Aten. The pantheon of Egyptian Gods was pushed aside for monotheistic religion, which created many enemies for Pharoah. The priests wanted their lucrative multiple offerings back, and the people still worshipped the Old Gods.”
Clark was pleased at the chance to attend this lecture at the Metropolis Museum Of Fine Arts. He was even more pleased that Bruce was sitting next to him, recording Professor Barclay Emerson while Clark took pen-and-paper notes.
It was not very often that they enjoyed time together without some dire crisis hanging over their heads. Their lives were often hectic, and just a normal date was a luxury he had every intention of indulging.
“As you can see, Akhenaten ruled with Smenkhkare, his younger brother.” A slide of the two Pharoahs appeared on the screen. “There is evidence via cartouche that they ruled as a couple, and Smenkhkare was buried with a Queen’s markings on his coffin.”
There were a few titters from the audience but Emerson ignored them. “The Eighteenth Dynasty was prosperous for a time, but Akhenaten had too many enemies. His wife, Nefertiti, was not a supporter once Smenkhkare usurped her place, though of course there is speculation that Nefertiti became Smenkhkare, as gender fluidity was not unknown among the Egyptian ruling class. Women often took on male garb if they ruled Egypt as Pharoah.”
Clark glanced at Bruce. His lover was certainly acquainted with privilege and the shenanigans of the super-rich, which often included unconventional morality. Would the Pharoahs just be glorified jet-setters today? Clark smiled to himself. How would Bruce look in traditional Pharoanic garb?
Bruce could feel Clark go still beside him, his hand frozen over his notepad. Clark mumbled, “Be right back,” and left his aisle seat.
Bruce continued listening to the lecture. He knew that if help had been required, Clark would have asked him. He picked up the discarded notepad and jotted his own notes to fill in the gap for his companion.
He had read years ago about the possibility of two men as co-regents of Egypt and sharing a bed but had never had the time to do any in-depth research. He personally thought the Nefertiti-as-Smenkhkare story was just a desperate Hail Mary to ward off gayness, but 4,000-year-old events could definitely be clouded.
He had consented to attend this lecture, figuring it might be useful in case an Egyptian-themed villain ever turned up in Gotham, but he was enjoying it purely for academic reasons now. Okay, maybe spending time with Clark was a bonus, too.
The subject of co-regents was certainly interesting. What had it been like to rule Ancient Egypt with your lover sitting on the next throne?
The incense filled the ceremonial chamber as Bruce sat on the throne, garbed in a white linen skirt, gold belt with lapis lazuli, and a heavy matching necklace. A heavy golden crown studded with jewels rested on his head. He just knew his eyes were lined with kohl. How Egyptian was that?
The throne next to him was empty. Its occupant stood by the altar as priests ringed the dais, shaking sistrums and chanting a low chant that echoed around the chamber. A polished stone stele was carved with a representation of Aten, the Sun God. Each Pharoah was shown worshipping the deity in the carving.
Clark’s back was to him, but his strong muscles were sculpted in beauty. The curve of his buttocks could be seen through his pleated skirt and golden sandals were laced up strong calves as the royal crown perched on dark hair. Arms outstretched, Clark’s voice rose above the chanting.
“O, Great Aten, grant us a bountiful harvest.”
Bruce smirked. Always the farmer!
“May peace continue in the Two Lands and the Nile overflow the fields and make them fertile.”
There was an opening in the ceiling of the chamber. The sun flooded in, lighting an orb resting on the altar. It glowed like the sun itself, and Bruce clutched the two staffs he held criss-crossed across his chest a little tighter. The chanting rose an octave.
Clark turned and faced him. “O, Ra, bring thy light to shine upon us!”
Bruce rose slowly from his throne. He could feel heat emanating from the orb. He hoped it wasn’t Metamorpho’s Orb of Ra. Turning into a walking chemistry set was not a cherished life goal of his.
“Great Rao, give us they power!”
“Rao?” Bruce blurted.
Clark smiled. “Of course.”
“Wrong planet, my friend.”
“Rao is everywhere, sees all, knows all.”
“Sounds like Santa Claus.”
“I’ll have you know he’s my neighbor at the North Pole. Better watch yourself, you’re hovering around the Naughty List.”
“I’d like to see what’s naughty under that skirt.”
Clark shook his head. Definitely on the Naughty List!
“A lump of coal for you.”
Bruce thought he saw the orb catch fire as smoke began to fill the chamber.
He started to cough as Clark said, “May Rao protect us” and touched his hand.</i>
Bruce coughed. He could still smell smoke, but fainter this time.
He opened his eyes and saw a concerned Clark looking at him. His hair was slightly mussed and his suit was rumpled, but that was par-for-the-course. The smoky odor was lingering and there was a smudge of soot close to his hairline.
Well, that tells me what the big emergency was.
“Just don’t try and put any Queen’s markings on me,” Bruce mumbled. He shoved Clark’s notepad at him.
Clark blinked behind his glasses. He took the notepad and noted Bruce’s elegant handwriting on it and smiled.
Oh, well, Bruce is cranky because he’s hungry. The Museum has a good restaurant. Until then, I better tide him over.
He fished around in his suit jacket pocket. Oops, a little melty, but still good. He held out a Snickers bar.
Bruce took it and unwrapped it without making a single crinkling sound in the quiet. Now that was a superpower!
Clark settled back in his chair. He’d choose anything on the café menu as long as it wasn’t smoked salmon.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish. :)