the_water_clock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_water_clock) wrote2012-12-31 04:43 pm
the_water_clock) wrote2012-12-31 04:43 pm
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FIC: A Balanced Meal (O'Brien/Hoechlin, PG)
Author: Clio
Title: A Balanced Meal
Pairing: Dylan O'Brien/Tyler Hoechlin
Rating: PG
Summary: It's easier for Dylan to avoid temptation at the grocery store with Tyler there. Of course, it's a lot harder to avoid the temptation of Tyler, but that's okay, too.
Warning: (skip) Much discussion of body altering due to diet and exercise.
Length: 1200 words.
Notes: Futurefic, pre-season-four, when Dylan and Tyler are on their Stiles and Derek diets, so a lot of conversation about body changes that come with exercise and a restrictive diet. Definitely skip if that's triggering for you.
Written forverity, who requested "fic where they go to the grocery store together and get home and unload their groceries and eat popsicles." Which is basically all that happens here.
Since Dylan started living with Hoechlin there are a lot more vegetables in his shopping cart. Not that there had been none when he was sharing a place with Posey—and that's interesting, sharing-a-place vs living-with, but then, they had been totally different, meeting your brother-from-another-mother and meeting your, well, something else.
Anyway they're at Trader Joe's and they spend quality time in produce because it's week three of the pre-season-four diet for both of them, and the first time this has happened since they've been together. Now he has a ringside seat to Tyler getting bigger and tanner while he gets scrawnier and paler, and the difference between generally healthy off-season Tyler and the pre-season Tyler who is rigid about cheat days. Dylan's doing a lot of Pilates to keep his body limber while not putting on any muscle mass and watching as Tyler's stomach goes from just-flat to completely ripped. It would be intimidating if it were anyone other than Tyler, to be honest.
At least both of them have to avoid carbs, even if Tyler has like, five meals a day to Dylan's maybe two.
"Will you make that chicken thing?" Tyler asks, pausing in front of the green beans. He doesn't have a puppy look like Posey—or Dylan himself for that matter—but he does have what Dylan privately calls "hopeful eyebrows" which he also rolls out for certain sex acts and trying to get out of having to wear anything other than basketball shorts and a t-shirt. (Dylan usually gives in on the sex, but not the wardrobe; Tyler needs some tough love there.)
"Sure," Dylan says, because cooking makes him feel a little better about not being able to eat much, mysteriously, and cutting vegetables into ribbons helps him miss carbs less. It's like he's tricking himself every time he eats.
"Awesome," Tyler says, and even gives it a fist pump as he flips the largest bunch of bok choy Dylan's ever seen into their cart. It's weirdly gratifying that Dylan can make Tyler that happy just through his skills in the kitchen. He's glad that Tyler does most of the cleaning or it would all be way too housewifey.
Having a high protein smoothie ready for Tyler when he comes home from his second daily workout, though, that's just being a generous partner. And Tyler has ways of paying him back, like reassuring Dylan that yes, he's still fuckable even as he approaches 160 pounds.
They go straight from produce to meat, with a brief stop in dairy to grab yogurt and eggs. Dylan pushes the cart and tries to pretend he's a horse with blinders on so he won't be drawn to the snacks or the frozen pizzas or the bread or the bars of chocolate. Tyler steers, mostly from the front of the cart but sometimes by walking next to Dylan with a hand at the small of his back; that this is when they need to walk past something particularly tempting doesn't surprise Dylan much.
They're standing in line, which takes them right past the ice cream, something Dylan thinks is 25% practical and 75% completely unfair, when Tyler says, "Oh, I forgot the almonds. I'll get some for you, too," and then he's off to the nut aisle.
Dylan tries not to look, but the stuff is right there and he's only human and his eyes are attracted by a box of treats that—wait. He picks up the box, checks the info, looks at the ingredients, and then hides it in the cart under the giant bunch of bok choy.
How he manages to get them checked out and loaded into the car without Tyler noticing is some kind of minor miracle, never mind getting them into the freezer at home, but he does, and as they're folding up the cloth bags to put them back on their shelf Tyler leans in close and says, "See, that wasn't so bad."
This is one of those moments when Dylan has to rein it in; his knee-jerk reaction is to make a joke but Tyler doesn't always appreciate breaking his moments of sincerity, and Dylan is learning to read him, really he is. This time he takes a deep breath and replies, "Yeah, thanks. It's easier when you're there."
Tyler beams at him, which close up can be too much sometimes, too bright, and makes Dylan's heart stutter, but he just breathes through it and is rewarded with a kiss, and then two or three, and then being lifted up onto the counter so Tyler can attack him without pushing him over. Dylan wraps his legs around Tyler's waist and even there he can feel how much more solid Tyler is than he was two weeks ago, and it's weird—both that he knows Tyler's body so well, and that it's changing.
They pull back after a bit and Tyler laughs, breathless. "Sorry," he says. "Kinda got carried away there."
Dylan shakes his head. "Hey, never apologize for sudden make outs because they are always awesome," he says. "So why don't you go into the living room. I got you a surprise."
Tyler's brows furrow. "Dylan?" he asks, scolding a little.
"Go, go," Dylan says. "I'll be there in a sec."
"Okay," Tyler says, but he's reluctant.
As soon as he's gone Dylan grabs a big freezer bag from the drawer and busts out the hidden box, pouring the individually-wrapped treats into the bag because cardboard has no place in the freezer and anyway, Tyler needs to see the box. Then he takes two treats and the box and heads for the couch, hands behind his back.
Tyler looks up. "What are you up to?" he asks.
Dylan smiles and holds out his left hand, which holds one purple and one orange popsicle.
"It's not a—"
"Cheat day, I know," Dylan says, "but you can have this."
Tyler takes the orange one, but he's wary until Dylan sits down next to him and hands him the box. "Sugar free?" he asks.
"Yep," Dylan replies, unwrapping his popsicle.
"Fifteen calories?"
"Yep," Dylan says, and puts the popsicle in his mouth.
"Huh," Tyler says, putting the box down and opening his own treat. "Not bad," he says.
"Well, we're kinda hard up," Dylan replies, then sucks on his some more.
Tyler's popsicle is in his mouth but he doesn't seem to be eating it, just letting it melt on his tongue while he stares at Dylan.
"What?" Dylan asks. "My tongue is purple already, isn't it?" He sticks it out.
"No, it's just …" Tyler is blinking now, staring at Dylan's mouth like he used to back when they first met and he didn't think Dylan was looking.
"You mean," Dylan starts, and then he pretty much goes down on the popsicle, shoving it as far into his mouth as he can before pulling it back out with a wet "pop."
"Yeah," Tyler says.
"Well, you should do it too," Dylan replies. "Don't just let it melt."
"Okay," Tyler says, and it's even hotter watching it disappear between Tyler's whiskered lips.
Dylan's going to miss that beard, seriously.
"And after," Dylan says, "my mouth will be all cold, so you should be thinking about where you want me to put it."
Tyler's eyes widen—his popsicle is in his mouth again so he can't really reply, but he does clear his throat.
Dylan just laughs, because yeah, being on this diet is so much better than it was last time.
Title: A Balanced Meal
Pairing: Dylan O'Brien/Tyler Hoechlin
Rating: PG
Summary: It's easier for Dylan to avoid temptation at the grocery store with Tyler there. Of course, it's a lot harder to avoid the temptation of Tyler, but that's okay, too.
Warning: (skip) Much discussion of body altering due to diet and exercise.
Length: 1200 words.
Notes: Futurefic, pre-season-four, when Dylan and Tyler are on their Stiles and Derek diets, so a lot of conversation about body changes that come with exercise and a restrictive diet. Definitely skip if that's triggering for you.
Written for
verity, who requested "fic where they go to the grocery store together and get home and unload their groceries and eat popsicles." Which is basically all that happens here.Since Dylan started living with Hoechlin there are a lot more vegetables in his shopping cart. Not that there had been none when he was sharing a place with Posey—and that's interesting, sharing-a-place vs living-with, but then, they had been totally different, meeting your brother-from-another-mother and meeting your, well, something else.
Anyway they're at Trader Joe's and they spend quality time in produce because it's week three of the pre-season-four diet for both of them, and the first time this has happened since they've been together. Now he has a ringside seat to Tyler getting bigger and tanner while he gets scrawnier and paler, and the difference between generally healthy off-season Tyler and the pre-season Tyler who is rigid about cheat days. Dylan's doing a lot of Pilates to keep his body limber while not putting on any muscle mass and watching as Tyler's stomach goes from just-flat to completely ripped. It would be intimidating if it were anyone other than Tyler, to be honest.
At least both of them have to avoid carbs, even if Tyler has like, five meals a day to Dylan's maybe two.
"Will you make that chicken thing?" Tyler asks, pausing in front of the green beans. He doesn't have a puppy look like Posey—or Dylan himself for that matter—but he does have what Dylan privately calls "hopeful eyebrows" which he also rolls out for certain sex acts and trying to get out of having to wear anything other than basketball shorts and a t-shirt. (Dylan usually gives in on the sex, but not the wardrobe; Tyler needs some tough love there.)
"Sure," Dylan says, because cooking makes him feel a little better about not being able to eat much, mysteriously, and cutting vegetables into ribbons helps him miss carbs less. It's like he's tricking himself every time he eats.
"Awesome," Tyler says, and even gives it a fist pump as he flips the largest bunch of bok choy Dylan's ever seen into their cart. It's weirdly gratifying that Dylan can make Tyler that happy just through his skills in the kitchen. He's glad that Tyler does most of the cleaning or it would all be way too housewifey.
Having a high protein smoothie ready for Tyler when he comes home from his second daily workout, though, that's just being a generous partner. And Tyler has ways of paying him back, like reassuring Dylan that yes, he's still fuckable even as he approaches 160 pounds.
They go straight from produce to meat, with a brief stop in dairy to grab yogurt and eggs. Dylan pushes the cart and tries to pretend he's a horse with blinders on so he won't be drawn to the snacks or the frozen pizzas or the bread or the bars of chocolate. Tyler steers, mostly from the front of the cart but sometimes by walking next to Dylan with a hand at the small of his back; that this is when they need to walk past something particularly tempting doesn't surprise Dylan much.
They're standing in line, which takes them right past the ice cream, something Dylan thinks is 25% practical and 75% completely unfair, when Tyler says, "Oh, I forgot the almonds. I'll get some for you, too," and then he's off to the nut aisle.
Dylan tries not to look, but the stuff is right there and he's only human and his eyes are attracted by a box of treats that—wait. He picks up the box, checks the info, looks at the ingredients, and then hides it in the cart under the giant bunch of bok choy.
How he manages to get them checked out and loaded into the car without Tyler noticing is some kind of minor miracle, never mind getting them into the freezer at home, but he does, and as they're folding up the cloth bags to put them back on their shelf Tyler leans in close and says, "See, that wasn't so bad."
This is one of those moments when Dylan has to rein it in; his knee-jerk reaction is to make a joke but Tyler doesn't always appreciate breaking his moments of sincerity, and Dylan is learning to read him, really he is. This time he takes a deep breath and replies, "Yeah, thanks. It's easier when you're there."
Tyler beams at him, which close up can be too much sometimes, too bright, and makes Dylan's heart stutter, but he just breathes through it and is rewarded with a kiss, and then two or three, and then being lifted up onto the counter so Tyler can attack him without pushing him over. Dylan wraps his legs around Tyler's waist and even there he can feel how much more solid Tyler is than he was two weeks ago, and it's weird—both that he knows Tyler's body so well, and that it's changing.
They pull back after a bit and Tyler laughs, breathless. "Sorry," he says. "Kinda got carried away there."
Dylan shakes his head. "Hey, never apologize for sudden make outs because they are always awesome," he says. "So why don't you go into the living room. I got you a surprise."
Tyler's brows furrow. "Dylan?" he asks, scolding a little.
"Go, go," Dylan says. "I'll be there in a sec."
"Okay," Tyler says, but he's reluctant.
As soon as he's gone Dylan grabs a big freezer bag from the drawer and busts out the hidden box, pouring the individually-wrapped treats into the bag because cardboard has no place in the freezer and anyway, Tyler needs to see the box. Then he takes two treats and the box and heads for the couch, hands behind his back.
Tyler looks up. "What are you up to?" he asks.
Dylan smiles and holds out his left hand, which holds one purple and one orange popsicle.
"It's not a—"
"Cheat day, I know," Dylan says, "but you can have this."
Tyler takes the orange one, but he's wary until Dylan sits down next to him and hands him the box. "Sugar free?" he asks.
"Yep," Dylan replies, unwrapping his popsicle.
"Fifteen calories?"
"Yep," Dylan says, and puts the popsicle in his mouth.
"Huh," Tyler says, putting the box down and opening his own treat. "Not bad," he says.
"Well, we're kinda hard up," Dylan replies, then sucks on his some more.
Tyler's popsicle is in his mouth but he doesn't seem to be eating it, just letting it melt on his tongue while he stares at Dylan.
"What?" Dylan asks. "My tongue is purple already, isn't it?" He sticks it out.
"No, it's just …" Tyler is blinking now, staring at Dylan's mouth like he used to back when they first met and he didn't think Dylan was looking.
"You mean," Dylan starts, and then he pretty much goes down on the popsicle, shoving it as far into his mouth as he can before pulling it back out with a wet "pop."
"Yeah," Tyler says.
"Well, you should do it too," Dylan replies. "Don't just let it melt."
"Okay," Tyler says, and it's even hotter watching it disappear between Tyler's whiskered lips.
Dylan's going to miss that beard, seriously.
"And after," Dylan says, "my mouth will be all cold, so you should be thinking about where you want me to put it."
Tyler's eyes widen—his popsicle is in his mouth again so he can't really reply, but he does clear his throat.
Dylan just laughs, because yeah, being on this diet is so much better than it was last time.