Brendon was dreaming of the sky.

He was dreaming of clouds so thick that the sky was obscured, bathed in ochre and rose gold by the sun that hid behind them, soaking them with a sleepy, golden glow. Across the scene there was a haze, some kind of grainy filter, perchance simply the lens through which his subconscious viewed the dream, because Brendon had been to this place, he had lived there for as long as time. The empyrean domain should not be this unknown and surreal to him, and it struck him only how long he’d been away from his home when he viewed the Heavens in a different way- how, he imagined, mortal souls would see it when they ascended. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. Surreal.

Unfamiliar.

It was, in essence, and uneventful dream, but even his unconscious mind he realised that this dream was designed and crafted by his Father as a message, a reminder, almost a warning- [i]Don’t forget where you belong.[/i]

Brendon woke up slowly, the soft touch of wakefulness curling around his limbs and stirring his eyelids to a flutter, his eyes remaining lidded. His long eyelashes skimmed his cheek and he let out a soft exhale. He [i]knew[/i] he’d been on earth much longer than was normal for an angel tasked with helping out their struggling charge. He [i]knew[/i] he’d grown far too used to living like this, sleeping in human beds and living in human houses and eating their food, listening to their music, learning their ways. He probably knew more than his Father thought was safe. He knew that when he inevitably had to go back, he wouldn’t be allowed back down for a long time.

It was just- the mortal world was so refreshingly desperate and vital, everything was alive with electricity, an uncontrollable urge not just to stay alive, but to live. Not just to drift- and that had been the only existence Brendon had ever known. All other instances he’d been down to earth and left in a maximum of maybe a week, and the times between visits were so long that he forgot what it was like each time. At this point, though, he’d been with Ryan for- over seven months. Brendon’s eyes fluttered fully open and he exhaled audibly again, the air rushing past his lips and stirring a stray strand of hair that was curled out over his forehead.

For a long time he’d convinced himself that- he was here because that was his duty, Ryan wasn’t ready to be left alone yet, which- was partially true. But mostly Brendon had found a kindred spirit in Ryan- he had been merely existing, and Brendon knew if he hadn’t entered when he did, his charge wouldn’t even have done that on the mortal plane for much longer.

But he wasn’t just a duty to be fulfilled anymore.

Brendon turned onto his side and there was Ryan, lying on his side with his cheek pressed into his pillow, facing Brendon. In the dim light Brendon could tell that his eyes were closed and his curly hair was tousled and unruly. The sheets were pulled up just a little past his waist and onwards from there, Brendon’s eyes traced a path along his body, drinking in the way the moonlight streaming in through the open window illuminated his skin. He was something holy, something divine, Brendon still wasn’t used to this feeling, he felt suddenly overwhelmed and simultaneously at great peace- There was guilt lying below the surface but Brendon had started to learn the art of burying away feelings until he absolutely had to deal with them.

Brendon, overcome with an intense wave of great affection, close to involuntarily reached out, tangled his fingers gently in the curls of Ryan’s hair and moved down to barely trace his cheekbone, down to follow the curve of his bottom lip. With this great sudden surge of emotion came the start of an increasingly common episode of faint buzzing that seemed to echo from his heart and reverberate through his skin into the mattress, like a feline expression of contentment; He was [i]purring[/i], for lack of a better word, and with his he knew what came next.

Dragging his eyes away from Ryan’s peaceful expression, Brendon shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching behind his back with his free arm to clumsily search for where his wings sprouted from his shoulders. He didn’t have to search long- his hands closed almost immediately around a clump of feathers.

Rolling his eyes up, he became aware his wings were present and was now irritated by their presence as they half-drooped from the side of the bed, so he sat up and folded the one closest to Ryan against his back, let the other hang loose, the tips of his longest feathers skimming the floor.

Brendon was still trembling in the way he did when faced with strong emotion- like how he felt when he looked at Ryan. He didn’t want to disturb him, but it was difficult when the bed had started to shiver slightly, and his ridiculously large wings were brushing against Ryan’s bare skin even when the culprit wing was folded as tightly as possible against his back. Inhaling, Brendon stretched his arms out and clung onto the highest bar of the bedframe, tipping his head back and resting it against a lower bar, willing himself to calm down so he could let his lover sleep.

Lovers, Lovers, [i]Lovers.[/i] The voice in Brendon’s head was singsong and louder than the malicious whisperings of his darker thoughts, telling him this was wrong, on so many levels, he didn’t even know what love was, he was emotionally and physically incapable of experiencing it. None of this was real, in his desperation he’d fallen from grace and fabricated some ‘romance’ that was impossible to even have. But-

-Brendon let his head loll to the side against his bicep and gazed at Ryan, his eyelashes skimming his cheeks again. That swell of his chest. How could he make that up? Lifting his head again, the angel stared out of the open window, closed his eyes after a moment and allowed the cool breeze to wash over his skin, listened to the reassuring murmurs of the wind and the soft, consistent stutter of the rain.

Ryan was awash with pale moonlight and Brendon gazed again, entranced, at his sleeping face. Despite his initial hesitation, he then made a decision and opened his wings, reaching out to lift Ryan’s head up gently and then slide a wing under him to support his shoulders, and cushioning his lover’s head. Once he had Ryan cradled, secure, he turned onto his side and nestled his head close to Ryan’s on his own wing, folding his other one over them both and enclosing the two of them, one hand occupied with caressing the side of Ryan’s face and the other holding securely onto his waist. It wasn’t intended as patronising, but- he felt as if all the world and all the heavens were against them. God knew what was happening and Brendon imagined the dream was orchestrated in order to try and coax him back up to where he ‘belonged’. Well. Brendon let his eyes flutter shut. He belonged right here.