Tyler takes Dylan home for his mom's birthday. His family loves Dylan, so Tyler's not worried.

Okay, maybe he's a little bit worried.

Mostly Dylan's worried, because he's Dylan.

Also because he's Dylan, he's trying to hide the nerves under jokes, and with every quip Tyler thinks of how nervous Dylan actually is because he wants Tyler's family to like him, and then how Tyler's family might not like him, if—and then how Dylan's face will look if they don't like him, how he'll probably make a bunch of nervous jokes and push his fingers through his hair and laugh a lot until his voice falters and his eyes get all bright—and Tyler's getting so tense imagining it that his shoulders are practically Derek-tight.

He takes a deep breath, presses Dylan closer to him in a one-armed hug, and kisses his jaw. "It'll be fine. They love you."

"You know, that's a lot more convincing when your jaw isn't clenched like you're about to wolf out, dude," Dylan says, but he leans into Tyler's side, looking noticeably calmer.

"Wolf out, really."

"Yeah, when you're, like, annoyed, that muscle in your neck does this thing where—" He breaks off, laughing. "It sounds so weird that I notice this stuff. You'd think I watch you, like, obsessively."

Tyler frowns, brow creased in mock-hurt. "You don't watch me obsessively?"

Dylan laughs again, warm and open, rolling through his whole body, and Tyler smirks at him, then breaks into laughter himself. Warmth rises in him, and he kisses Dylan again, because he can, because he's happy, because Dylan makes him really, really happy. His family'll see that, they'll understand, everything will be fine.

Everything is fine.

They're eating dinner, everyone's happy, Dylan and Tanner talking about the Mets, Tyler talking to his dad about how he's been doing, glancing back at Dylan every so often, when his dad says, "So how's Brittany doing?"

Dylan drops his fork and dives under the table to retrieve it.

"She's, ah, she's doing—We're not together anymore, Dad," Tyler says. He can feel his ears flaming.

"She's a good girl," Dad says. "A good woman."

"Yeah, she is," Tyler agrees, amicable but bracing.

"You don't find many of those in that business, you know."

Tyler can feel his neck tensing. "I know, Dad."

"Yeah, she's seriously like the sweetest person I know," Dylan cuts in. Tyler looks at him. "Like the first time I met her, there was this party, right, and there was this guy there, and he was wasted. like completely plastered. and he's like staggering around, looking for his keys or something, you know. so he sees me, right, and immediately he's like, "Wolf!" and I'm like 'Oh, I wasn't expecting you to know my show, hi,' you know. but he's not even looking at me, he was looking at Tyler, Tyler Posey, and he's like, 'Yo, wolf!' and Posey is like, 'Yeah! Hey dude!' and kind of waves at him, and the dude like tries to wave back, I think, but he's so gone he pretty much falls over." Dylan laughs. "He's like 6'2, like two hundred pounds, and Brittany's like 5'3, maybe 110 soaking wet, but she's there, you know, catches him. takes his keys—" Dylan shakes his head, quiets. "It was just this nice, this funny little moment. I don't know. I thought it was cool."

"It was," Tyler says, though he remembers approximately none of this. "It was awesome."

Dylan's prodding his chicken gingerly with his fork, eyes low, mouth a small soft oval of quiet inner self-flagellation. Tyler's stomach drops.

"It was," he says again. He pats Dylan's arm a couple of times, lines his left leg with Dylan's right under the table.

"Yeah," Dylan says, making an effort to perk up. He manages a grin for maybe a second before it falters into something worse. The leg not hooked on Tyler's rattles under the table, sets off vibrations in the cutlery.

"There you go," Dad says. "You've known her a long time, this isn't some Hollywood act. Maybe you should think—"

"We're friends," Tyler says. "It's not—She's seeing somebody."

"Sounds like a smart guy, if you ask me," Dad says pointedly.

"And so am I," Tyler says, barely biting back his irritation. Dylan's leg goes still.

"You are?" Mom says. "Oh, honey. That's great. Do we know her?"

"You are?" Tanner asks, frowning. "Since when?"

"Since—For a while," Tyler says, already regretting mentioning it. He knows his family, they'll pick this apart like he's under oath. "Don't worry about it."

"How long have you and Brittany been—"

"A long time," Tyler says. "We're friends, Dad. anything else—We're just friends."

"Because if you were seeing some other girl behind—"

"I wasn't!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Dad says. "Because that's not how I raised you."

"I know," Tyler says.

"Is it someone from work?" Mom asks.

Tyler looks at her.

"It would make sense," she says. "You've been so busy lately."

"Yeah, it's someone from work," Dylan says abruptly. The whole table turns to him.

"So you know her," Dad says. "What's she like?"

"Is she hot?" Tanner asks.

"Really?" Tyler says.

"Oh yeah, so gorgeous," Dylan says. "Really sweet, too. And smart. Like incredibly intelligent."

"You're dating Holland!" Mom says triumphantly.

"You're dating Holland?" Tanner says.

"I'm not dating Holland," Tyler says. Dylan looks like he's seriously contemplating suicide by dining implement. Mom looks like she doesn't believe him. "I'm not!"

"I always thought you'd give it another try," Mom says. "I mean, you work together now. What are the odds?"

"What are the odds?" Dylan agrees, too brightly.

Tyler smiles stiffly. "That's really funny."

"Yeah, she's also got an amazing sense of humor," Dylan says.

"You can talk to us, honey," Mom says. "So it's been a while, huh? That sounds serious. What's she like?"

"Yeah, Ty," Dylan says, the worst shit-eating grin on his face. "What's she like?"

"It's Dylan," Tyler says, just a little too loudly. "It's Dylan, alright? I'm seeing Dylan."

"You work with a girl named Dylan?" Tanner says. "What is this, three?"

Tyler stares at him.

"You can't seriously be that stupid," he says. "Dylan? O'Brien? This guy next to me." He jerks a thumb in Dylan's direction.

"Aww, you're so sweet to me, baby," Dylan simpers. Tyler smiles as wide as he can.

"Dude, you are the worst liar," Tanner says.

"Your dad doesn't mean to pressure you about your relationships," Mom says.

"Of course not," Tyler says.

"He just has a lot of respect for Brittany. We all do."

"Great!" Tyler says. His jaw actually aches from smiling so stiffly for such an extended period of time. "Why don't you date her? All of you. Together. Just leave me out of it."

"Whoa, hey," Dylan says, touching the back of Tyler's neck.

Tyler closes his eyes, lets out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry," he says.

"No, I was being a dick," Dylan says. He goes pink. "Uh. A really, you know, annoying—" he starts translating, like Tyler's family is going to excommunicate him or something.

"You weren't," Tyler interrupts.

"Wait," Dad says. "Are you serious? The two of you are—together?"

"Yeah," Tyler says. He's done pretending. It's fine, everything's fine. What's the worst thing that could happen?

He takes Dylan's hand, pretends his isn't shaking.

"Well that explains it," Dad says, and tells Dylan, "That was a pretty funny bit you did, with the girlfriend. What was it, 'really sweet and incredibly—'"

"Intelligent, yeah," Dylan says, grinning nervously.

"'Intelligent,'" Dad repeats. "Genius."

Tyler stares at him.

"Do your parents know?" Mom asks Dylan.

He swallows. "Uh. Yeah? Yeah, my mom kind of—figured it out. And then I just told my dad, like, once it was real, y'know? But I knew they'd be supportive, so—"

"So are we," Mom says firmly. "You know we'll love whoever you love, Tyler. Don't you?"

"Of course," Tyler says, just a little too late, and then it's too late. Mom looks like he hit her or something, like—

"And you know we love Dylan," Dad says.

"Yeah," Tyler says, kind of lightheaded with a dizzying combination of relief and gut-twisting guilt for worrying, or for making it seem like he thought, like he thinks— "Yeah, yeah, no, I know—"

"How long have you been worrying about this?" Dad asks.

Tyler shrugs, tries to back up, to take it back, to explain. "I wasn't—" God, he sounds like an idiot. "Brittany, I just mean, you really, really like Brittany—"

"She's a nice girl," Dad says. "You've been friends for a long time. I thought she made you happy," he clarifies as Tyler starts to tense up again. "I just want you to be happy."

"Are you happy?" Mom asks.

"Are you kidding?" Tanner asks. "Have you seen him around this guy? He giggles."

"Shut up, Tanner," Tyler says, ears heating up. "Five minutes ago I was a bad liar."

"You're the worst liar," Tanner agrees. "In hindsight, it's kind of blindingly obvious."

"I didn't think it was obvious," Dylan offers.

Tyler turns to him. "You didn't?"

"Dude, no way! You're always smiling, you're always nice, you're always, like, insanely attractive, I had no idea if it was all in my head or not."

Tyler's entire face is on fire, but he's having trouble caring.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh,'" Dylan says. "I'm making an a—a giant fool of myself, like constantly mentioning how hot you are, you're just like, 'Thanks, man,' I felt like a, y'know, like this awkward spastic weirdo half the time."

Tyler's grinning now, and his jaw doesn't hurt at all. "I thought you were playing around. Like that was just this running joke, it didn't mean—"

"Have you ever heard me make those jokes about anyone else?" Dylan laughs. "Like, ever? Since you've known me?"

"Oh," Tyler says again, after a couple seconds' consideration.

Dylan laughs. "We're both idiots."

"We're both something," Tyler agrees, laughing, and then remembers—"Oh god, Mom, it's your birthday, I—"

"It's okay," Mom says. "I shouldn't have assumed."

That's not fair, Tyler knows. Mom can't resist a good challenge. It was his fault for being cryptic, and Dylan's hints must have made the answer sound obvious.

"No, I—" he says instead, because sometimes he just completely loses contact with his mouth, or his brain. Some wire getting crossed somewhere.

"I'm glad you brought Dylan home anyway, even if you were nervous." Mom smiles at Dylan like she has to prove something, like Tyler doesn't already know she loves him. Suddenly, Tyler just needs everyone to drop this. Bring Brittany up again, even, he doesn't care. He nods agreeably, smiles at her, tries not to completely shrug out of his skin.

Dylan pats Tyler on the back, keeps his hand there, contact heat seeping through Tyler's t-shirt. Tyler reaches back without looking, plants his palm against Dylan's chest.

Dylan's frantic vibrating leg goes still again.

Tyler smiles down at nothing.

"I'll go get the cake," Tanner says.

AN especially for flamer anons: nothin real here, so try not to lose your mind. consider it an au-fun for all the family and completely fictional.