Oh yeah, Ryan was definitely looking forward to the holidays this year as much as he was looking forward to a root canal. Which he had to go in for on the 27th, by the way. Happy holidays, indeed.

However, Ryan tried his damnedest to find a bright spot to the whole ordeal. When he realized his bright spot was that Clay Aiken was going to be there, he was pretty sure this year had totally hit rock bottom. The last time they had seen each other was at the Billboard awards, and after they performed their poorly written skit that opened the show, Ryan had spent every moment he could talking to Clay about what life after ‘Idol’ was like, how he was doing, how his family was doing, taking every excuse he could to touch him, and…well. Ryan didn’t know quite why he wanted to rip the safety pinned patches Clay wore on his performance jacket off with his teeth, but he did. And that scared the hell out of him. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you want to look at it, Ryan got off on adrenaline, and was therefore looking forward to seeing Clay again, no matter if he got to rip his clothes off or not. Although, he did prefer the former. After he got back to his hotel room from the show, he decided to do a google search for himself and Clay…and ended up jerking off to what he found. Three times. And he repeated the action every night after that. Straight girls wrote such hot gay porn. Who knew?

So, Ryan made himself prettier than usual the night of the 19 party. He broke out the leather pants, the too-tight t-shirt, the Lil’ Hottie, and even the glitter, and decked himself out in his metro sexual best. It was probably more homosexual than metro sexual, but he didn’t care. If that was what got Clay Aiken to notice him more than usual, homosexual was what Ryan Seacrest would do. He entered the party taking place at the AI studios to a bunch of executives, crew members, and contestants giving him hugs and congratulations about his new television show, some of them whispering ‘happy birthdays,’ while they slipped a phone number into back pocket of his leather pants. But after Ruben Studdard walked in with a model on his arm, Ryan was practically forgotten; and worse than that, he still hadn’t seen Clay Aiken.

After an hour or so of mindless chitchat and shameless begging to come on his show, the lights seemed to shine a little brighter. Whether it was because someone had actually turned them on or the fact that Clay Aiken had just sauntered into the party was anyone’s guess. Although, for poor Ryan, they dimmed just a little. For Clay Aiken had just sauntered in with Kelly Clarkson attached to his hip, standing on her tip toes to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, every so often giving him a coy touch on the arm, her lips practically glued to the boy’s cheek.

Fuck the holidays. Ryan had had enough.

The man blinked back a couple tears as he stumbled through the building, mumbling to anyone who asked that he was having a side effect from the Lasik surgery and that he just needed to get to a bathroom. However, a bathroom was the last place on Ryan’s mind. It wasn’t until he got to Clay’s old dressing room, the pink monstrosity, that he sunk onto the red Coke couch being stored there, cringed at the clashing colors, and just cried. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and all the stress, all the disappointment, everything that he had been thinking about that caused him any sort of pain whatsoever over the past couple of weeks just flowed from his body. He didn’t care if anyone heard him sobbing. He didn’t care about anything anymore, really. He just wanted to sit there and sob. Then later he would go home and drink a bottle of something expensive and count the hours until he had to face the next part of his terrible holiday. Apparently, being the hardest working man in show business wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Ryan was supposed to be going to fancy Hollywood parties and be adored and revered, not…wiping salt water from his cheeks sitting on furniture that clashed with a room that looked as if someone threw up cotton candy all over it.

Just when Ryan thought things couldn’t get any worse, he started hiccupping. And when he was sure everyone was out to get him, he heard a knock on the dressing room door. He squinted through his tears and saw red, flat-ironed hair. Oh, merry fucking Christmas. Now Clay Aiken would see him with puffy eyes and smeared glitter.

Clay poked his head through the door as soon as he knocked, and a frown immediately crossed his lips when he saw Ryan all disheveled on the couch. “I thought I would find you here,” he said calmly, sitting down next to the man. “I was looking all over for you.”

Ryan shrinked back to the opposite end of the couch.

Clay pouted at his action, but scooted closer to him anyway. “Ryan, I know you’re not okay. You want to talk about it?” He placed his arm around Ryan’s shoulders in the most manly way he could muster, and patted the man’s back.

“I…” Ryan sniffled. “No. Not with you.”

Clay cracked a small smile. “Come on, Ryan. We’re friends. You look like you need someone to vent to, and the couch isn’t that great of a listener. I know. I’ve tried.”

Ryan lifted his head slightly and saw warmth in Clay’s eyes.

And then out it came. Everything from stranding Lisa Foxx on the radio show, to his family’s annual ‘Let’s Make Fun of Ryan’-athon, to Simon cracking on him in his book, to being disgusted at Carmen Rasmusen trying to make out with him, everything. And Clay sat with his arm around Ryan, occasionally giving his shoulders a reassuring rub, listening to every word he sputtered.

“And then you came in with Kelly, and ---“

“Wait, you saw us come in and you didn’t even say hi? Ryan…”

Ryan sighed. “I didn’t want to…I mean, I did, but…”

Clay snickered. “Now, Ryan, I see you out with Shana all the time, and I still say hi.”

Ryan’s eyebrows arched pretty much off his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“Let’s just say Kelly is to me, what Shana is to you.” Clay laughed again while Ryan gave him a puzzled look.

“I failed my SAT’s, Clay. I’m not good with analogies.”

“Honey, please. Kelly and I are going on tour. We’re not dating.”

Ryan’s entire face went blank.

“And you can pick your jaw up off the floor now.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

And Ryan smiled his first real smile in weeks.

Clay looked up briefly, and the grin crossing his lips grew wider. “What would you say if I wanted to kiss you right now?”

Ryan nervously licked across his bottom lip. “Um…”

“Cause there’s mistletoe above us. I kind of have to.”

Before Ryan could utter another sound, Clay pressed his lips to Ryan’s. The kiss was gentle at first, but after a few moments, Clay climbed into Ryan’s lap and soon, they were so wrapped up in one another they could barely breathe. The only reason Clay pulled away was because he felt wetness on Ryan’s pink cheeks.

“Honey, why are you crying again?” he whispered, flicking his tongue against a stray tear.

Ryan shrugged a shoulder and tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “I…I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve felt happy around the holidays, I guess.”

Clay gave Ryan a small smile before he kissed him again. “Speaking of holidays…happy birthday. You want your present?”

“Clay, you didn’t have to get me anything ---“

“I didn’t,” he interrupted. “It’s in my pants. You have to come and find it.”

And Ryan surely did. Multiple times.

Later on the plane to Georgia, Ryan rested his head on Clay’s shoulder. “You know, my mom is expecting me to bring home a wife.”

Clay giggled. “Surprise, Mom. Ryan’s bringing home a boyfriend.” He let out a gasp, and Ryan laughed quietly into his shoulder.



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