rating: PG
pairing: Ryan/Clay (there's no hope; I'm addicted.)
disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
distribution: my usual haunts; anywhere else, just ask.
summary: Clay is angelic.
warnings: seriously metaphyisical and kinda schmoopy.
notes: Don't blame me for this. Don't flame me for this, either. I'm not a Christian, despite my Southern Baptist upbringing, but I have the highest respect for all religions. Title comes from the Alanis Morissette song of the same name. The quote Clay recites is a Kitura Bauge original.
dedication: To my mother, who never fails to inspire and encourage me, who I love and cherish every moment spent with, and who will always be my guiding light and my conscience. Thank you, Mom. This is for you.

There are days when Clay wishes he could just let everyone know the truth. The space between his shoulderblades had been itching for days and was now passing through inconvenient straight into down right annoying. All he needed was an hour. One hour to himself to let them breathe.

But no, he had a show to do. Maybe he could get an hour after the show. No, he thought, still have to hang around and sign autographs and go over tomorrow's taping. Darn.

Shrugging his jacket off, he laid it over the back of his vanity chair and began undressing to get into tonight's wardrobe. He shuddered at the thought of what they had him in tonight. It usually wasn't very attractive, but it was concealing, and that's what mattered. No one could know his secret. No one except his beloved.

Clay slid his shirt off of his shoulders, the thin lines of permanent ink stark against his milky pale skin. He took a moment to examine the work. It was a work of art. There was no other phrase to describe it.

A pair of gorgeously detailed and painstakingly outlined wings spread over his back, shoulders, and arms. A slow grin quirked his lips. Clay never tired of looking at his "wings." Next to the real thing, they were the most beautiful things on this Earth. Well, one of the most beautiful things. His beloved was most definitely on that list.

"Clay? You in here?" Speaking of his beloved...and his inability to knock. Clay scrambled to get his robe on, but he wasn't fast enough. Ryan had seen the ink. He had to have. Clay wasn't ready to tell Ryan everything yet, but his hand had been forced.

He cleared his throat, drawing Ryan's attention to his flushed face. "Yeah, love. Come in."

Ryan seemed to snap out of his stupor and shut the door behind him. Blinking rapidly, he finally coughed and found his voice. "Clay, I... I didn't know you had a tattoo."

Clay sighed and motioned for Ryan to sit down. He pulled up another chair and placed a hand on his beloved's knee. "Ryan," he began, "it's not *exactly* a tattoo. It's hard to explain, and neither of us have the time right now. But believe me when I say that I will tell you. When we can be alone. And uninterrupted." He gazed lovingly into Ryan's deep blue eyes and smiled. "I love you. Go get ready for the show." He brought one of Ryan's hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the tanned skin, and stood up to begin his own pre-show rituals.

Ryan just sat there. After a few moments of watching Clay move about the room, he stood up and coughed slightly. He walked over to where Clay was standing and wrapped his arms around the slender waist of his love. He kissed the space between Clay's shoulderblades, whispering, "I believe you. I love you." He pressed his cheek against the plush terrycloth of Clay's robe. "Come to my apartment. After the show. The door will be open." He let go and began walking toward the door.

His hand was on the doorknob when the soft reply floated on the air to his ears. "I'll be there."

***

Just as Ryan promised, the door was unlocked when Clay arrived. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. At first, he thought that maybe he had the wrong apartment. The cleanliness of the living room was such a contrast from the hopeless clutter of the host's dressing rooms. Decoration was sparse; a couple of pictures of friends and family, a plaque from radio work, and a small movie poster - Casablana, what a romantic! - were all that adorned the spacious room.

Clay called out to Ryan, hoping that he wouldn't have to stand nervously in the foyer for very much longer. He missed his beloved and couldn't wait to hold him.

Ryan poked his head up over a counter on the other side of the room. A grin crept across his face, and he bounded across the living room to wrap his arms around the taller man. "Welcome."

Clay smiled softly. He grasped Ryan's hand and lead him to sit on the couch. Clay sat on the edge of the coffee table, still clinging to his beloved's hand.

He swallowed thickly, trying to think of how to tell this wonderful man his brightest secrets. As if sensing Clay's deliberation, Ryan leaned forward and brushed his lips against his love's. The move seemed to give Clay the courage to speak again.

"Ryan. First, I have to know something. Do you believe in God?" Ryan nodded. "Okay." Clay stood carefully and took off his jacket. He started fumbling nervously with the buttons on his shirt when he caught Ryan's curious gaze. Smiling, he spoke, reassuring his beloved that it was part of the evening's confession. He finally got the buttons open and slid the shirt off his shoulders, turning around to give Ryan an unfettered view of the art that adorned his body. Clay jumped slightly when he felt roughly padded fingertips tracing the lines of black ink on his skin.

He let Ryan explore for a while before turning around and grabbing ahold of those wonderful hands and holding tight. A sound that fell somewhere between a groan and a scream escaped his lips. Ryan's eyes widened at the grimace of pain that crossed Clay's face, but the look of intense concentration in those blessedly green eyes kept him silent.

Finally, Clay sighed, his chest heaving from the exertion. It always took him a few moments to recover from this, but it was well worth it.

He stood up and backed away from Ryan, who's face was ghostly pale. Clay smiled warmly and closed his eyes. He felt more than heard the astonished gasp from his beloved.

"Clay... What the... You have... Clay, you have wings!" Ryan exclaimed. Clay felt an unsure hand reach out and stroke the soft down feathers. Another small gasp left Ryan's lips, followed by a whisper. "You really are an angel."

Clay opened his eyes. "Yes. I have lived on this Earth for 24 years as a child of God. I was an Angel before I came down to try for my fortune. Part of the Angel to Human deal is keeping the wings. It's nice, though. I like them." He sighed, enjoying the feel of a breeze through the feathers once more. Goodness, he was relieved. The itching and aching had subsided, leaving a glowy, happy feeling. "They've been bothering me. Terribly bad. I haven't had the chance to let them out since I left North Carolina." He gazed at his beloved. "Ryan?"

Ryan shook himself and opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "Okay. Angel. Got it. But Clay... Won't God frown upon us? Will you be able to get back into Heaven? I won't let you risk your home for me. I can't let you do it."

Clay chuckled. That wasn't the response he'd expected, really, but it wasn't totally left of center. They were fair questions. He held out his hand and pulled Ryan into his arms. "There's something you should understand, love. God is very progressive. She believes in love." And Clay could hear Ryan's puzzlement. "Yes, she. Doesn't matter. No gender, really." He giggled. "'God pardons Love. Love denied is the unforgivable sin.'"

Ryan pulled back slightly. And smirked. "God's progressive, huh?"

Clay laughed and nodded. "Yes. She's a fan of love. She's a fan of faith, no matter what shape or form it takes. She's a fan of humanity and all its little quirks. But mostly, she's a fan of life." Clay stepped away and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small box. He opened the box, holding it out for Ryan to see.

Nestled inside velvet lining was a small gold ring. An intricately carved angel's wing wound around the band, connecting with a delicate Celtic knot design. Clay held up his left hand. Around his ring finger was the same ring.

Ryan looked up at his love. "Clay... Are you...asking me to...marry you?"

A brightness shone from the angel's face. A pure radiant happiness. "If you'll have me, beloved. If you'll have me."

No answer came from the other man for several moments, and Clay was beginning to think that Ryan would never say anything again. And then Ryan wrapped his arms around Clay's neck and kissed him. A kiss like no other; one that seared souls and melded futures.

They broke for air, and Ryan laid his head on Clay's shoulder, holding and being held.

"As if I would have anyone else."

fin~