Dylan O/Tyler H || PG || 451 || AO3
Summary: 10 years later, they’re back on a ship.
A/N: written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #354: ship
"Do you realize where we are?" Dylan asks, eyes glinting with amusement.
Tyler is pretty sure that it's not only the amusement but also the vodka that's in his cup, mixed with the tiniest splash of mixer, for appearances more than anything else. And maybe the setting sun that is behind the fact that his skin is nicely tanned.
"Dylan."
"Hoech."
"No."
"But we're--"
Tyler glares and then takes a pointed sip out of his own glass, equally very filled with vodka.
They're nowhere near as drunk as they were that day, all those years ago in San Diego. But if they both keep drinking at the speed they started with an hour ago, chances are that they will be smashed pretty soon. Especially sitting outside in the sun that is still as hot as if it were right above them and not slowly approaching the horizon.
It's been over a decade since that day at Comic Con and yet the memory -- despite the drinking they both did that day, for courage and all -- is seared clearly into Tyler's brain.
It's been only a year since they were in a similar position, but without it being a show and a scripted moment. Well, as scripted as it could have been at that moment back then.
"I still can't believe you bought a fucking sh-- boat," Dylan mumbles, glancing at Tyler as he amends his original word choice.
"I like sailing."
"It's all Bobo's fault, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Tyler admits, a little sheepish.
The boat... ship he bought last month was an indulgence, a treat for himself after the show wrapped for good. He's got other projects lined up but he's getting a little break and he'd wanted to get back to sailing for a while now. To have Dylan's schedule line up with Tyler's own break this perfectly -- they both have an entire week off -- and have the ship ready was a stroke of luck he wasn't counting on. And yet, here they are.
"On a fucking ship," Tyler mutters and hears Dylan chuckle next to him. "Fuck off."
"Only took a decade."
"Huh?"
Tyler turns his head to look at Dylan because he sounds... wistful, almost. Sad a little. Like he has regrets. Dylan is lying on the lounger and his eyes are closed, glass on the small table between him and Tyler, arms up and hands behind his head. A small smile is playing on his lips but it definitely doesn't look happy.
"D?"
"I mean, I'm glad we got here, but damn, it took us a decade."
He turns his head and looks at Tyler, frowns for a beat and then grins again.
Summary: There’s one person whom Tyler wants to hang out with at any given moment in time. He’s also the one with whom there’s a higher risk of being recognized and swarmed by fans. Still, they’re going to be only a few hours apart and with a little time on their hands. Tyler wonders if it’s worth the risk.
A/N: Written (late) for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #324: recognize
Tyler knows how to hide in a crowd. It's not easy, but it's easier than it was a few years ago, when all the cameras were pointed at anyone who looked even a little like one of his cast mates. These days, he just knows to avoid those of them who seek out the spotlight, who like to revel in it and know that it gets them the attention necessary to keep having success when it comes to their careers. He does hang out with them still, but it's in private settings and with the explicit wish to not take or post photos on their public accounts. Those who do like his company—and whose company he enjoys—are good at doing, or rather not doing what they usually do: documenting the majority of their movements online.
But then there's Dylan. The one person from the cast who doesn't need to drum up attention, the one person who gets recognized no matter where he goes and how much he works on keeping a low profile. The one person who would blow any cover that Tyler has without meaning to.
And yet he's the one person with whom Tyler likes to stay in touch. They just can't do it anywhere in public, because the chance of being spotted is too high. And it matters too much to keep their friendship solid.
It matters more then Tyler likes to admit because that admission is likely to lead to others, ones that he's not sure Dylan would appreciate.
It was towards the end of Teen Wolf's run on TV that he recognized the signs for what they were. He knew by the final days on set that his eagerness to keep talking to Dylan, to spend time in his presence was beyond his usual friendships. It's different than when it's Colton, different than Ian or JR. With those, he doesn't mind if they don't see each other for weeks or months, when their work takes them places in distant time zones and countries. He likes to have them around but unless it's been months, he doesn't feel the craving to hear their voices or see their faces.
"Man, I missed your face," Dylan says when Tyler answers a FaceTime just before he's due to fly out to Australia.
Me too, Tyler thinks and then says it, careful not to pour all his feelings into the two innocuous words.
"You're heading down under for a while, aren't you? Posey said you guys have booked events here," Dylan says a few minutes into their conversation.
"Yeah, we are. Two conventions in two weekends, so we're gonna hang around instead of flying back and forth," Tyler replies.
He knows where this is going and he's not sure how to explain that he can't do what he thinks Dylan will ask him for. That he can't meet up for dinner even though they'll be only hours apart. That he's already seen the photos of Dylan over there and that people know where he is.
That it's been too long since he had Dylan's arms wrapped around his shoulders and felt the closeness that they used to show indiscriminately when they were on set. That he doesn't think he can be that close to Dylan physically and keep his feelings hidden. It's too much of a risk of not only them being spotted, but also of his secret being revealed.
Dylan might figure it out. He's always been way too good at reading Tyler, knowing what bothers him and what he's thinking.
"Posey's coming over in the week between," Dylan says, surprising Tyler.
"Is he? He didn't say."
"I only just talked to him, like, an hour ago. He sorted out the plans with his team."
"Good for him. You guys gonna go out?" Tyler asks, pushing down the green-eyed monster that's rising in his chest.
"For a bit, yeah," Dylan confirms what Tyler figured out. "He's driving, you know. Or well, getting someone to drive him."
"Oh?"
"You could tag along."
There it is, the suggestion that's really a request, the one that Tyler knows rationally he should decline. The one that holds enough danger but could still be perfectly safe if they choose it to be. Because sometimes, for as much as he gets noticed, Dylan knows how to carve that little slice of privacy that doesn't seem to exist in his life.
Tyler should say no.
"Do you want me to?"
His voice trembles as he asks. Maybe a little too much. Dylan's face lights up when he realizes that Tyler hasn't immediately shut down the possibility.
"Dude, always."
He doesn't say that he'd love to see them both and that's something that Tyler's mind zeroes in on.
"You could stay at my place. Posey and I will head out for a while when he gets here, but you could..." Dylan's voice fades like there is something else he wants to say but doesn't know how to.
Tyler knows how to read him too, maybe not as well as Dylan reads him but enough. There's an offer there to hang out without company, to spend alone time together. An offer that hasn't happened in a long time.
"I could," he says quietly. "I'd need to run it by my people, see what the arrangements are."
"Do. Let me know? Call me when you're in a closer time zone?"
They go back to small talk then, letting the offer hang in the air without a resolution. Unlike other unresolved things, this one doesn't make Tyler cringe or want to run away. He still doesn't think it would be a good idea to be anywhere near Dylan when they're both already in places that people know about. Normally he doesn't check social media other than whatever he catches sight of when he's posting something necessary for work, but this time he had a glance and he knows that people are well aware of the fact that he'll be close enough to Dylan for a visit. As will Posey, though he's way less concerned with being recognized. In fact, he's one of the people who thrive on it.
Tyler does call Dylan when they touch down in Australia though—it's not quite the same timezone, but close enough—even if it's only to tell him that he doesn't think he'll be able to make it.
"You know you really could just hide in the back of Posey's ride, right?" Dylan asks, visibly disappointed.
"I know. But you know I like to roam places by myself and I have a whole week," Tyler tells him.
It's an excuse, but it's one that he knows Dylan will accept because it's been true for years.
"I'll see if I make my way to your area," Tyler adds because he doesn't like the expression on Dylan's face.
"You know I'm lying low when I'm here, right? Especially now that we're in the prep stage."
"I know."
"I'd really love to see you, Hoech. At this rate, next time we're in the same room, I don't know if I'll recognize you at all," Dylan says and there's something in his voice that makes Tyler's stomach flip.
"You can see me right now," he says instead, trying to ignore the butterflies inside him.
"Not the same thing. Cameras lie."
"I'll try."
They don't talk about the possibility of Tyler visiting again, not during that call or when they talk the next time—Posey included—during breaks at the convention. Tyler shakes his head when Posey tries to suggest that they go together and Dylan's face falls for a fraction of a moment, but then he nods in understanding.
It takes another few days—almost too many because Tyler does have commitments—for him to make up his mind. Posey's already back from his visit, glowing with happiness as he always does after seeing Dylan. Tyler also knows about them being spotted by fans, which is precisely why he didn't want to go. He's too old for that shit and for the potential for drama that comes with it.
Instead, he rents a car two days before the next convention and drives to where Dylan told him he was. He walks into the hotel with his hat pulled deep into his face, shoulders slumped, but trying not to look like he's about to rob the place. When he finds the room number that Dylan gave him—no doubt in the hopes that Tyler would do just what he's doing now—he hesitates.
Maybe he's not here, he thinks.
But then he figures he's got nothing to lose and knocks.
"I didn't order room--" Dylan starts saying as he's opening the door, but the words die on his tongue when he recognizes Tyler. "You ass!"
"Hi to you too," Tyler tells him with a smug grin.
Instead of returning the greeting, he finds himself tugged into the room and he has Dylan's arms wrapped around him before the door slams shut.
Worth it, he thinks, hugging Dylan back with a smile on his lips and warmth spreading in his chest. Absolutely worth the risk of getting spotted.
Summary:
There's a plan for how he'll come out. Dylan had more meetings than he ever wanted to, all to make sure it goes smoothly.
Best-laid plans and all.
A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #315: plan
There are meetings and emails and then some more meetings. Dylan hates how much of a production the whole thing is, but he knows that it's not something that's avoidable. He knew it years ago and it's the reason why it took him this long to get to the point where he's ready.
In private, he's been ready for far longer than anyone knows.
Julia was the first to figure it out. She didn't push him, didn't even ask, but he knew that she had an idea before he ever said anything. Then, when he showed up at Pride, she just sent him a text with a row of heart emojis. On the outside it could have looked like he was supporting her but they both knew the truth.
When he finally came out to her—and it was her, there was never any doubt that it would be—she just hugged him and kissed his cheek then took a rainbow pin off her bag and moved it to his jacket. She knew without Dylan saying anything that it wasn't as simple on the grand scale, so she pinned it on the underside of the jacket collar. That way, she said, you'll know it's there but no one else will until you’re ready.
It was just as easy with his parents, in the end. He was a lot more nervous about that one though rationally he knew he shouldn't be, not with how they accepted Jules. Still, it was a big secret to share and when his mom hugged him and his dad patted his shoulder, Dylan let himself breathe out and cry with relief.
What was a lot more complicated was being out in public. For the first while it didn't matter, it wasn't like he went on dates or put relationships on blast. Still, he knew the world he was living in still had massive hangups and way too many bigots for an industry that was supposed to be open-minded. He remembered what secrets did to Colton and what the fallout was, the quietness in the background and the lack of opportunities that followed his public declaration.
Dylan also knew that if anyone would understand his reluctance, it would be Hoechlin.
They never talked about it, despite the adjacent topics and the drama around their roles in Teen Wolf. Despite their friends' coming out moments and their unyielding support for those who were out—Colton, Charlie, others who made the step to go public—and those who were not as outspoken.
He always wondered a little why he never opened up to Tyler in the first place. He had plenty of opportunities, face to face and through their frequent phone calls and texts. Somehow it always felt like too much. Like saying that he's bi would open the floodgates and maybe put cracks in their friendship. He never thought that Tyler would judge him, but there was something he was worried about that gave him the answer.
His crush on Tyler. The one that he had from the day they met, the one that he didn't hide as well as he wanted to—Julia told him once that it was visible from space. The crush that could be brushed off as professional admiration and close friendship when the assumption and outward image still was that Dylan was as straight as they come. Telling Tyler that he wasn't, that he was into more than just girls, that would bring questions. Or at least that's what the devil on Dylan's shoulder kept telling him, despite the evidence to the contrary.
That was why his coming out wasn't something he mentioned any of the times when he and Hoechlin talked since Dylan started planning for it.
—
It's simple, in the end. The planning stage turns out a lot more exhausting and complicated than the final product, the end result of all the meetings and strategizing. After all the talking, it comes down to Dylan being interviewed and asked about his upcoming role in a movie, one that is a lot more high profile than his first non-straight role was. In that interview, he talks about having this in common with the character, being as bisexual as the man he's portraying on screen.
The calls come in the moment the interview goes live. Julia knew, of course, as did their parents. Dylan didn't tell anyone else though, so the barrage of people who call and text to say something is almost exhausting. They're all happy for him, glad that he is happy.
But there's radio silence from the one person whom Dylan was hoping to hear from. There's not even a text message or any sign of acknowledgment from Tyler. Dylan spends a week pretending he's not disappointed and the world keeps turning as the fallout from the interview slowly dissipates and other things take over the trending topics and front pages.
He's sitting at home and reading scripts that his agent dropped off when the doorbell rings.
When he opens the door, his heart stutters at the sight of Hoechlin, looking like he just walked off a plane and ran across the city to get here. He's flushed, sweaty, fingers tight on the strap of his backpack.
"Hi."
Dylan chuckles as they speak the greeting in unison but his heart is racing.
"So, uh," Tyler starts and immediately pauses, looking like his brain is trying to think about a million things at once. "I didn't know what to say."
There’s no need to explain what Tyler is referring to. Dylan steps aside and nods towards the apartment, then watches as Tyler walks in hesitantly, only a few steps inside like he's keeping an escape path open.
"You didn't need to say anything," Dylan says, closing the door but leaving it unlocked.
"I did. I should have, a long time ago. But I didn't know."
"You didn't know what?"
"I thought it was just me and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Tyler blurts out and his cheeks flush a deeper red.
"What?"
Dylan's mind is spinning in circles, bringing up thoughts that he let himself think a long time ago, thoughts he didn't dare say out loud because he figured they were just hopes and dreams that would never be real.
"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable now," Tyler continues like he missed Dylan's confusion. "And I didn't... I don't want you to think that I'm here only because you're out and... fuck, I don't know what I'm saying. I just, I never thought... and if there's any hope at all, I figured I should try."
"Hoech, what the fuck are you saying?"
"Fuck."
"Tyler."
"Shit, sorry, I know I'm not making any sense," Tyler says, cringing. "I thought about what to say on the way here, but then I saw you and I didn't... I forgot."
"Dude, if this is about the show and why we didn't do the thing..."
Dylan isn't sure why he's bringing up what was a sore spot in their past, but he can't think of anything else that it could be about. At least not anything realistic. It can't possibly be what he spent too much time hoping for.
"What? Fuck no," Tyler says. "No, that's water under the bridge. And that wasn't about either of us anyway."
"Well, I know that, but what is this about?" Dylan asks, waving a hand at Tyler.
He watches as emotions flash over Tyler's face, as he cringes and frowns, then as determination sets into his features.
"I'm gay."
The words fall into the silence between them and Dylan's brain screeches to a halt.
"What?"
Confusion seems to be the theme of the day, but Dylan is stumped. They're words that he never thought he'd hear from Hoechlin, never figured them a possibility. If anything—in his wildest dreams—he hoped for Hoechlin coming out as bi or just making an exception for Dylan.
"Look, I know this sounds like I'm just jumping the bandwagon, but I've known—" Tyler breathes out like he forgot to for a little while, then he inhales deeply before he speaks again. "I've known longer than I even admitted it to myself. It just... it's not been a thing I could be open about before."
"You could have with me," Dylan says quietly, then quickly adds, "and with Colton."
"I know. And well, Colton knows, I think," Tyler admits in a whisper, his cheeks turning red. "He didn't say, but if anyone knows..."
"Colton knows," Dylan tells him with a nod. "He may have hinted at my being bi before Jules figured it out."
Tyler chuckles and then his eyes dart toward the door.
"So, why are you here, Hoech?"
Dylan figures that direct is the way to go. He doesn't really feel like letting his mind wander and his hopes to fly too high.
"Okay. Right."
"Hoech."
"Yeah, I... give me a second," Tyler says and then he meets Dylan's eyes again. "I like you. Fuck, this sounds like I'm a middle schooler. Maybe I should have had a note like the kind kids do."
"You're rambling," Dylan says, his heart racing in anticipation.
"I am. Might be a little nervous."
"So. You like me," Dylan repeats just to make the words real. "Like, what way?"
Tyler's face turns even more red than it already was.
"Like I hoped we'd get to kiss on set because I thought about doing it ever since that boat interview. Sooner, maybe."
Dylan's world comes crashing down around him. It's not in a bad way, he just takes a moment to reassess a lot of the things he believed for a long time. He doesn't look away from Tyler as he processes the new information, a little afraid that if he does, Tyler's going to bolt.
"Oh."
The word slips from Dylan's lips after too long a pause.
"Look, I'm sorry," Tyler says almost immediately. "This was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking dropping this on you. I just thought—"
"Me too," Dylan says, but it's not to what Tyler just said, it's to the sentence before, the one about the past.
"What?"
"Me too. I mean, I wasn't completely sure then yet," Dylan explains. "But I've had a thing for you from pretty much the first day we met. It took a while to figure out that's what it was though."
"What?"
Dylan figures that the expression that he's seeing in Tyler's face must be the same as his was only moments ago.
"I only really knew after you left. When I missed not having you on set," he adds to his explanation.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
They both fall into silence then but neither looks away. Dylan wants to do something, anything, but he doesn't want to jump the gun and move, worried that if he does he'll wake up and this will have been just a dream.
"So, with that said," Tyler says, breaking the tension. "What now?"
Dylan chuckles and that shakes off the anxiety that's been swirling in his chest. It's such a simple question and yet there is no answer that doesn't bring complications and chaos.
"Now like, right now, or now as in where do we go from here?"
Tyler shrugs. "Both," he says. "Right now I kind of really want to kiss you, but I also want to know if I can take you out for dinner or cook for you or whatever."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Dylan groans and moves forward, closing the gap between them. "You can't just... don't go stupid romantic on me, Hoech. I'm absolutely on board with the kissing thing, though."
"Don't wanna be wined and dined?"
"Don't wanna pose for paps while we're trying to eat, to be honest," Dylan says, smiling, as he tugs Tyler's fingers off of his backpack strap so he can link his own with then. "We can talk dining later. After kissing."
"I can deal with that," Tyler says and leans in.
When his lips brush over Dylan's, there's a spark, like electricity courses between them. Dylan feels his palms sweat and his heart race as he leans into the kiss, his free hand snaking around Tyler's waist. It's almost like they've been kissing for years—natural, simple, but still exhilarating and good, so good—the way they move without needing to coordinate or adjust. Tyler's taller than anyone Dylan dated before, which is a strange thought to have but yet it's the only clear one on Dylan's mind. Everything else vanishes as they kiss.
When they finally pull their lips apart, Dylan leans his forehead against Tyler's and smiles, then takes a deep steadying breath.
"So, uh, we're good at that part," he says.
"Seems so, yeah."
"You wanna talk about what's next?" Dylan asks, straightening his back and looking into Tyler's eyes.
For a beat, there's a teasing glint and the corner of Tyler's lips twitches. Dylan's about to say something about rushing things when Tyler speaks again.
"Not the right now next, though I hope there's more kissing soon," he tells Dylan. "Near future next though. Because you're out but I'm not and I don't know how public you want this to be. If it's anything other than just, well, this."
"It better be. And as private as possible would be great for me," Dylan says. "Do you want to be out?"
"I do." Tyler nods. "I wouldn't want to be a dirty little secret."
"Well, that might be fun. But exhausting." Dylan sighs. "You know, you're kind of derailing my plans here. That interview was supposed to be all of my effort to go public."
"I'm sorry," Tyler says, looking apologetic and contrite.
"Don't be. I've got the hard part out of the way, this is going to be good," Dylan tells him and leans in for another kiss, only a fleeting and soft one this time. "Let's leave the near future next for tomorrow. You said something about dining?"
"How do you feel about homemade nuggets?" Tyler asks, following the cue without hesitation.
Dylan grins and nods. Then he squeezes Tyler's hand and keeps smiling as Tyler launches into a ramble about what he'll need to make dinner.
All in all, despite this not being part of Dylan's plan, it's better than anything he dreamed of.
Summary: Winter break is the one time where everything is silent and unmoving, unchanging. When he gets to relax and just be Tyler, be with his family.
And then a call comes in.
A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - #308: amnesty (for the #50 prompt: holiday)
It's the only time when he gets to sit back, relax, do nothing for a little while. Sure, he doesn't currently have jobs lined up—didn't have any for a while—but that doesn't mean that he's free to do whatever he wants. There are auditions, photo shoots, acting and voice coaching classes that he keeps going to. And there are other things he's doing that all add up to being not only busy in general, but also barely ever at home.
And being away from home for so much of the year also means not getting to see the people he cares about.
So when it's the holidays, Tyler turns off his phone, sets his emails on vacation reply mode, and just... checks out. He's not Tyler Hoechlin, star of Teen Wolf and Supergirl, he's just... Hoech. Tyler. Uncle Ty. Whatever the name is that the people he's with choose to call him. The kids in the family barely recognize him, especially the younger ones who didn't see him enough over the past year and it hurts even though he's aware that he chose the career he has. A part of him wants to switch to something that would keep him home more, but he's at a loss for what that would be.
He loves acting, he does. He has fun with the things that it encompasses—the dressing up, the slipping into someone else's shoes, the way he gets to feel things that he normally wouldn't.
The people.
Most of all, he loves the people he gets to meet along the way. Even those whom he doesn't get to see as much as he'd love to. More so those whom he keeps in touch with no matter where life takes them.
He spends two solid days with Colton, in his new house and with no one else around. It's just before the actual holidays start and the house has long been decorated like Christmas exploded all over the place. Tyler loves it and he loves to see Colton glow with happiness again. It's been a shit year and Tyler hasn't been around as much as he should have.
"Hoech, shut up," Colton tells him when Tyler tries to apologize. "You had your own shit going on."
"Nothing as what you went through."
"Different. And some of mine worked out, in the end," Colton says, fiddling with his wedding ring. "And don't you dare feel guilty about that," he tells Tyler when he notices the way Tyler's face falls at the reminder of the wedding itself. "We're not talking about that one again."
"Fine. I'm just glad you're okay," Tyler tells him.
"Me too, man. Me too."
They're great days, full of laughter and reminiscing and talking. More talking than Tyler has done in months, because there are things he doesn't—can't—discuss with everyone and with Colton's life having gone to shit a few months ago, Tyler didn't think it right to pile on his own, relatively insignificant, issues.
When he leaves Colton's place, it's to head home to his family. That's where he spends the main part of the holidays, where he has his big dinner after the kids wake everyone up on Christmas Day to open presents. It's where he is when his private phone rings once the family has dispersed again to their own homes.
It's a phone that only very few people have the number for. Colton. Holland. Ian. A select few of the people from the movies he did. Tanner.
Dylan.
The one person who didn't get in touch in a long time. The one person who managed to flip Tyler's life around this year without even knowing he did.
"Hey," Tyler says when he picks up, quietly, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.
"Hoech."
There's a pause and Tyler wonders whether he's supposed to speak. What he's supposed to say.
"Happy holidays," Dylan says before Tyler can.
It's awkward. It's weird in a way that things never really were with Dylan. But then, everything was different until now.
"Merry Christmas," Tyler tells him. "Hope you're having a good one."
"Yeah," Dylan replies, a little too fast. "Yeah, it's cool. Mom and Dad say hi, by the way. And I'm going to see Jules for New Year's."
"That's good. Should be fun."
"Should be, yeah," Dylan agrees and Tyler can hear the deep breath that he takes. "So, how are you? Good holidays?"
"Mom and Dad's, so yeah. Busy. Noisy. More kids than last year," Tyler says with a chuckle. "It was an early morning."
"Bet it was. Part of the fun though, isn't it?"
They both go silent then, after Tyler's agreeing hum. It’s weird. He does and at the same time doesn't understand why. As far as the outside world, as far as anyone else is concerned, nothing has changed. They've gone a long time without talking before, had months when the only thing between them were random pointless text messages. There was that time when Posey called Tyler from a convention panel while Dylan was at the panel too and wasn't the one calling. Tyler remembers how odd it was—when he watched the footage later—for Dylan to blatantly lie about not having Tyler's number.
Nothing should be different. And yet, somehow, right now it is. It has been ever since Tanner sent Tyler the link to an article talking about Dylan and Britt. Ever since Tyler looked at her Instagram and confirmed that she's most definitely not with Dylan anymore. Which is something that Dylan didn't mention.
"So, uh, you think you'll be home before New Year's?"
Tyler startles a little when Dylan breaks the silence on the line. Then he hums noncommittally, not really sure if he's going to head to his place or if he's going to stay here, letting his parents fuss over him.
"I mean, I'm gonna fly out on Sunday, but...."
Dylan's pause makes Tyler want to interrupt it with something, anything, just so they don't have another awkward silence. But he has a vague idea where Dylan's train of thought is going and he doesn't want to derail it.
"If you're home, would you mind if I came over?" Dylan finally asks, the first clear thing he's said since Tyler answered his call.
At first, Tyler nods. Because of course it's okay for Dylan to visit and the answer will always be that no, he absolutely doesn't mind. Then he remembers that he's on the phone.
"I wouldn't mind at all," he says. "You know this."
"Well, yeah, but—" Dylan pauses to take a breath, "—it's been a while."
"Nothing's changed, D."
That's a lie and Tyler knows it. But it's also true in a way, because nothing has changed about his feelings for Dylan.
"Maybe it's time it did," Dylan says quietly. "Maybe..."
"Dylan?" Tyler asks when Dylan's voice fades out into silence again and stays like that for a while.
"Look. When I come over, okay? Just let me know when you'll be home. And where home is now," Dylan says, sounding like he's trying to finish the conversation. Sounding like he's avoiding a clear answer.
"Okay. Before Sunday?"
"Yeah," Dylan confirms. "Enjoy your holiday, Hoech."
Tyler returns the wish and then the call disconnects and he's left holding his phone and staring at the screen in confusion.
He doesn't get an answer to all the questions that he has for another two days. He's home then, in his own place, and he's trying not to keep checking the text message from Dylan where he said that he'd be over soon. Of course, "soon" is a very loose term considering the traffic can be crazy, especially during the holiday season. But it's been three hours and even though Dylan's house is anything but close, Tyler wonders if it means that Dylan has changed his mind about coming to visit.
Then he glances out of the window and can't help but chuckle.
Right there, in his driveway, is Dylan. Pacing. His car is parked and he's out of it, walking up and down the short pavement between the road and Tyler's house. Tyler wonders for a beat how long Dylan's been there but then he shrugs it off and heads to the front door instead.
When he opens it, Dylan looks up with a start, his eyes wide open and a little panicky.
"You gonna come in?" Tyler asks, smiling.
Dylan nods and walks over, then brushes past Tyler on the way in. The moment the door closes and Tyler turns his back to it, he has to back up right against it because Dylan's right there.
"Okay, I'm sorry. This is probably out of the blue and you maybe don't give a shit that way anyway, but..." Dylan starts rambling and his hand moves up and lands on Tyler's arm. "Look. I know you said that nothing's changed, but it has. And maybe it's too late for this, but if it's not—"
"Dylan."
Tyler's interruption makes Dylan's eyes widen even more, almost impossibly so.
"I couldn't before. Because we were never... I wasn't sure... and..."
"Dylan."
"Yes, present," Dylan says, then smirks. "I mean, I am. Present. A present. If you'd like."
His bravado is shadowed over by the way his eyes flicker from Tyler's face to the ground and then back again and the way he clenches his hands, both the one on Tyler's arm and the one by his side.
"Dylan?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you want to come over?"
Dylan bites his lip before he replies, but he stays where he is and doesn't back off.
"Look, I know this is out of left field and I have no idea if you're even interested in me that way, though I hope I didn't read things wrong and you're not going to tell me that you're not interested in guys in general, but—" Dylan pauses, takes a deep breath, then meets Tyler's eyes. "Okay. Here goes. Do you want to go for dinner with me, some day?"
He looks absolutely serious and so vulnerable that Tyler wants to wrap him in a hug and tell him it's going to be okay. He also wants to blurt out the fuck yes that immediately sprang to mind when Dylan asked. But this is them and Tyler can't help it, the corner of his mouth tugs upward as he fights back a smirk.
"D, since when do we need this much formality to go get In-n-Out?"
Dylan's face falls a fraction, but then his eyes drop to Tyler's lips and he obviously notices the smirk that Tyler has a hard time holding back, acting skills be damned.
"You asshole," Dylan says when he looks up and into Tyler's eyes again.
"I thought you'd never ask," Tyler tells him, then can't help but add more, the smirk fading away. "No, seriously. I thought you would never ask. Whether you were available or not, I didn't think I was ever an option."
"I'm not gonna lie and say you always were," Dylan admits. "Not at the start. Not when I didn't even think to look at guys that way. But you happened and I thought it was just a starstruck thing. Then it wasn't, but I was with Britt. And well, now I'm here."
Tyler smiles softly and reaches for Dylan's free hand, then holds it for a beat. He feels Dylan's fingers twitch on his arm and then sees Dylan's tongue dart out and slide over his lips.
"I don't even know if I'm not too late for this," Dylan says then, suddenly hesitant again. "Am I?"
Tyler shakes his head.
"At the risk of being accused of sappiness," he starts, then he feels his cheeks heat up. "No. Never. Not too late."
"So, uh," Dylan starts, then licks his lips again and Tyler can't help but feel his blush deepen. "Dinner? Some day soon?"
"When are you back from Julia's?" Tyler asks, thinking it's probably too soon to ask if Dylan's busy tonight.
"A few days after New Year's. But, at the risk of being accused of being too eager," Dylan says, eyes shining with glee, "are you busy tonight?"
"You mean like, since I knew you were already coming over? Have I booked something else?"
They both chuckle and Tyler links his fingers with Dylan's properly, then tugs him a little closer.
"No, I'm not too busy," he says quietly.
There is no kiss to seal the deal. Not then and not later that night either. He does get a selfie from Dylan at midnight on New Year's that makes him smile enough that Tanner badgers him until Tyler tells him about Dylan.
A kiss is the first thing that happens right after Dylan gets back from the east coast and shows up at Tyler's straight from the airport.
Tyler is just glad that he decided to cook instead of booking a place in a restaurant.
Summary: All it takes is that first conversation. Just Dylan being Dylan. And it's not like Tyler's heart skips every time he sees him. It's nothing. And hey, they might never see each other again if the pilot bombs, right?
AN: Written for the Full Moon Ficlet challenge on Livejournal - prompt #250: crush
Additionally - this is a prequel of sorts to a way longer upcoming fic that I'm working on. It'll be posted separately, and hopefully soon.
It’s pathetic, that’s what it is.
Tyler slumps further into the couch in his trailer, and thinks back on the script read he’s just come back from. He’s barely able to hold back the groan that is pushing his way from his chest, and he rubs his hands over his face in frustration.
He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t let his emotions rule his mind, not on set, not when he’s working. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake.
And yet, this kid… no, young man — fuck, Tyler needs to pay better attention to info sheets about his co-stars — has burrowed under his skin.
At least he’s legal, Tyler thinks, and cringes at himself immediately.
But he can’t stop thinking about Dylan, can’t push the image of his face out of his mind. It’s been going on since they first ran into each other during casting, from the moment that Dylan not only fanboyed over Tyler’s past movie credits but also launched right into baseball talk. It’s no secret to anyone who knows Tyler that it’s his weakness. With Dylan though, it’s more than that. It’s more than bonding over something they both love — though as much as Tyler likes the Mets, he knows it’s no match for Dylan’s love for them — it’s… just Dylan.
Tyler sighs when his mind, at the mere thought of Dylan, brings up images of his bright eyes, his lips, his fingers that seem to be in constant motion. He tries to remind himself that it’s the character Dylan’s gonna be playing, but it’s no use, because Tyler has noticed those mannerisms even when Dylan wasn’t on as Stiles.
It’s everything. And Tyler knows he’s pretty much fucked if the pilot gets picked up and goes into full production. Because as much as he doesn’t do this, doesn’t get swept away by someone, he isn’t sure that he’ll be able to prevent it if he’s around Dylan.
Not that he’ll ever be able to do anything about it. He’s bi, sure, but it’s not like anyone knows. If anything, even though he hasn’t brought it up to his manager or agent, they — and the industry that he’s been in long enough to know — have made it clear that it’s not in his interest to come out. He doesn’t know if Dylan’s anything but straight either, and it’s not a thing to just ask.
He groans this time, unable to hold it back any longer, and he rubs his face again, trying to shake off the frustration.
He can do this. If the pilot bombs, it’s unlikely that he’ll run into Dylan again for a long time. If it doesn’t, it’s not like there aren’t enough people to hang out with instead.
It’s nothing but a crush, Tyler thinks, refusing to dwell on how childish it sounds. I’ll deal.
Summary: (989): I miss your penis. I'm telling you this as a friend, like its just a really great penis. You should be proud of it.
A/N: Y’all can blame @literaryoblivion for this one. That is all.
At first Tyler thinks the text came from Posey. It’s something he’d expect from him, completely without context or preamble, but with enough history that it wouldn’t seem super creepy. They did live together, after all, and occasional accidental nudity -- well, accidental sighting of said nudity -- was something that did happen. And sending something this random that’s this personal is absolutely Posey’s style.
Then he looks at the top of the screen again, and almost chokes on the water he’s drinking. Because the text didn’t come from Posey.
D.
That’s it, that’s how Dylan’s number is saved in his phone, because not only is it what Tyler calls him, but it’s also unassuming enough that only some people would match it to the person. He’s had enough people looking over his shoulder to know better, and to save people’s numbers either by nicknames like this, or by full names to keep things appropriate. Dylan is one of those who gets a nickname -- and not a cutesy one that’d give too much away -- because he’s the one whom Tyler texts a lot, and it’s not like he wants to advertise it. And “D” could be anyone, really. At least that’s what he tells himself.
I miss your penis.
Tyler stares at the phone some more, slumped in his chair on set as he’s waiting to be called for the next shot. The penis in question twitches in his shorts, and he winces because now is not the time, dammit. Sure, the competition on who’s gonna wear the shortest of shorts seemed fun when it started, but he wasn’t counting on Dylan texting things like this. And he can’t reply now. Can’t, because he has no idea where that conversation might lead, and if it goes any further than what his mind is already trying to come up with, the shorts will be very inconvenient.
It’s his own fault, really, for not checking all his texts before he got to set.
Tyler reluctantly taps into the reply space, and tries to think of a reply that’s not going to start an immediate conversation. Then he spots the time the text was sent -- 2am -- and it suddenly makes a little more sense.
I see your reunion with the Maze Runner crew went well.
He locks the phone’s screen right after he exits the messaging app, and when the PA calls his name, he’s relieved that he can leave the phone behind. It does take the whole walk around the house they’re filming at to clear his head though. Because penis talk from Dylan.
The shoot and the rest of the guys keep his mind occupied with normal things, and it's only on his way to the hotel that he thinks about the text again. He's checked his phone during breaks and lunch, but there was no response. There still isn't one, but Tyler isn't surprised. Considering that Dylan was still coherent enough to be texting at 2am, chances are that his hangover is of the “leave me alone to die” kind.
Once he's out of the shower -- a long one, to give his body some hydration back after the whole day in the sun -- there is a bunch of notifications right in the middle of his phone screen.
Shit dude, sorry.
But I do.
I mean, I do think you should be proud. Your dick is awesome.
Fuck. Sorry. Will I get away with saying I'm still drunk?
Tyler chuckles at the texts and the rambling. Dylan’s not Stiles, but sometimes they have things in common, and the chattiness -- with people he knows well -- is one of them. He’s yet to understand why some people find it annoying or anything but charming. Then again, he’s maybe a little biased when it comes to Dylan’s… anything.
No.
It’s a simple text, and yet it takes him a good few minutes to press send. Because it means that he’s opening a conversation which could lead just about anywhere.
The reply comes faster than he expected it to.
Shit. Thought you’d let my stupidity go this time.
You’re not stupid.
Maybe not now. I was a drunk idiot last night though.
I mean, it wasn’t a false statement. Just not something I meant for you to know.
Well, no, I want you to know that your dick is awesome. You probably do.
Okay, please text back to stop me.
LOL
That’s not funny. You’re not funny.
Lies. I’m hilarious.
I believe that’s my line.
Except when you say it, it’s a lie.
I am wounded Hoech. Wounded.
LOL
You’re laughing at me. I’m mortally offended.
And yet you’re still texting me.
I can stop. I just wanted to make sure that you know that I meant that text. Just didn’t mean to actually send it. Because awkward.
Maybe a little. Didn’t know you paid attention. Didn’t expect you to pay attention.
I don’t have your locker room “no homo” training. I liked what I saw then.
I feel like I should be offended by the “no homo” comment. But strangely I get what you mean.
Locker room training to not view other guys that way. You’ve got it. I don’t.
Who says I do?
Doubt you’ve ever seen me or Posey naked and saw us as anything else but your team buddies.
Not Posey, no.
He pauses and looks away from the screen, trying to catch his breath. It’s a confession, what he just said, and he’s… he wasn’t expecting the conversation to lead to that today.
Oh.
Me?
Tyler stares at the question and hovers his fingers over the phone screen. Because yes, Dylan. Yes, he noticed back then. He just wasn’t planning on ever admitting it, because for all he knows, Dylan’s never been into anything but girls. And admitting bisexuality was a surefire way to make things awkward. Only a few people in Tyler’s life know, and one of them is Colton, who’s been sworn to secrecy. Colton, and who isn’t out either.
Yes.
Again, sending the reply takes a while. Tyler types it, then deletes the word, then types it again. It’s the only word on his mind, so he eventually bites the bullet and hits send. Then he tries to ignore the dots indicating that Dylan’s typing a response, and he fails miserably, eyes glued to the ominous sign of… well, nothing good. It either means that Dylan’s writing a long-winded rejection, or that he doesn’t know how to write it.
He’s about to toss the phone on his bed and ignore it for the rest of the night when a text finally comes through.
Me too.
Tyler stares, and then another text comes.
Not me, obviously. You. I noticed. As I made painfully clear with the text last night.
When he reads it, Tyler chuckles quietly, a little from the shock of Dylan’s admission, a little from relief that it wasn’t a flat out rejection.
I’m surprised you remember. It’s been years.
Too long, if anyone was to ask Tyler. It’s been way too long since they were living in the same space, since he had a chance to be around Dylan for that amount of time. Sure, on set, they were still close and hung out the year after the move to LA, and they had on set time together too. But the last season was… well, there were multiple reasons for why they weren’t spending as much time together anymore. Tyler refuses to acknowledge his own avoidance of anything Dylan-shaped during the filming of that season. Or during the breaks, when he’d hide in his trailer and complained to Colton about the lack of screentime for him and Dylan together.
It has. I might need a memory refresher.
Tyler is glad he’s not drinking or eating, because the response from Dylan would’ve made him spit out anything that was in his mouth. It’s not like it’s a shocker for Dylan to be direct, Tyler’s just never had it directed at him. Not in this way. Not when it feels almost like flirting. He wonders for a beat if that’s what the conversation has turned into.
Only if that’s something you’d be okay with.
Maybe not like, texting, but meet up?
Normal meeting up, I mean. You’re in Texas, right? We could, if you have a free weekend coming up. It’s been months, man.
Okay, please say something before I propose something too embarrassing, like that I won’t blow you on the first date.
Shit, how do I unsend a text?
Hoech?
Sorry.
Tyler winces, because he’s imagining Dylan’s face going from eager and amused to panicking and worried. He quickly presses on the screen so that Dylan can at least see that he’s still alive, then realises that seeing the ominous dots on the screen is probably worse. But he’s not sure what to reply, since his mind has been utterly blown by Dylan’s words.
BJs are a third date thing.
He almost facepalms when he sends the text, but it’s done. And it was Dylan who mentioned the date thing in the first place, so Tyler isn’t reading too much into where their conversation has gone. At least he hopes he isn’t.
Right. So, breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Then BJ?
I’ve been told I have the mouth for it.
Tyler falls onto his bed and breathes for a moment, one arm thrown over his face, fingers wrapped tightly around the phone. Because Dylan isn’t wrong, and Tyler is all too aware -- thanks to several unmentionable dreams and fantasies -- just how much of a mouth for blow jobs Dylan has. He’s not going to ask where Dylan heard it, or who it was that told him, but it’s not something that Tyler hasn’t thought about before.
He takes a few deep breaths before he looks at his phone again.
And well, we already established that I think your dick is great.
Tyler groans again, his dick very much interested in the imagery that Dylan’s texts are providing.
Date first? I could fly over two weeks from now, long weekend. Or you could, when you get time off. It’s off the radar here.
I’m off this weekend, we’re still just rehearsing. That OK? Too soon?
Let me know when, I’ll come get you from Austin. And it’s been years. Not too soon.
Sap. Can’t wait. I’ll text you the deets when I get them. It’s a date.
Tyler is still grinning when he puts the phone down on his nightstand. He didn’t think they’d ever get there, let alone that it’d take drunk-texting, but he’s not going to complain.
When his phone beeps with a text from Dylan a little while later, it makes Tyler downright giddy to see the flight confirmation.
See you soon.
Can’t wait.
He would say that he doesn’t spend the rest of the evening smiling, but it would be a blatant lie.
