Friends With Benefits: A Troyler Story

A/N: Hey everyone! Welcome to my first Troyler fic! This fic is set a little bit into the future (about a year) so Troye is 19 and Tyler is 25. Just to let you know in advance, this fic will most definitely have smut in later chapters because . . . well, otherwise there would be no benefits in the friends with benefits! Please vote, comment, and follow, I really want to know how I'm doing! Enjoy the first chapter, they'll be getting longer as I go!

Tyler’s POV

I woke up from a short nap with a feeling of happiness already rising in my chest. At first, I couldn’t place the reason that I had a huge smile on my face, but after I woke up a bit more, I realized that the reason I was feeling so giddy was that Troye was coming to LA today. He was going to be doing a few work things, but he was primarily here to spend time with his favorite American (me, obviously.) In fact, I thought, checking my phone for the time, he was probably just landing now. At that precise moment, my phone vibrated with a text from Troye. 

Just landed. Gonna drop my stuff at the hotel then take a cab over to your place! So excite! xo

I texted him back quickly saying,

Cabs are for peasants. I’m hooking you up with an Uber.

When I looked up from typing the text, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across from my bed and saw that a huge grin had spread across my face. My smile faltered slightly and I sighed. I knew it wasn’t smart to get so excited about his texts and it was especially stupid to get excited about the fact that he signed it with an xo. He didn’t actually mean anything by it. We were just friends.

Troye and I had been friends for over two years now and at first, that was all we were. But as we started growing closer and closer and spent more and more time together, both in person and, more often than not, over skype/text/twitter etc, I’d found myself developing feelings for him. Strong ones. 

I had only really realized that these feelings even existed a few months ago, when I was on a date with this really gorgeous (if a little intellectually stunted) guy named Kevin. I had arranged to Skype with Troye later that night, midnight my time and 4 pm the next day in Perth. The entire time I was on the date with this really sweet and did I mention REALLY hot guy, I wasn’t thinking about what he was saying or even about what would happen later that night when I would presumably get him out of his clothes. I just couldn’t wait to get home to my laptop and talk to Troye. 

I rushed through dinner and drinks and didn’t even ask this amazingly hot man back to my apartment because I didn’t want to risk missing my stupid Skype call. I ended up getting home at 11 and having to wait an hour, pacing around my kitchen in my sweatpants, until midnight came and I could call him. It didn’t even occur to me to text him and see if he could just do the call earlier.

When Troye's smiling face finally appeared on the screen, I felt my stomach flip in a way it hadn’t even come close to doing the entire night with Kevin. Troye and I talked for over two hours, switching seamlessly back and forth between light hearted gossip and deep, meaningful conversation and as we were talking, a slow and frankly terrifying realization crept over me.

I wasn’t interested in 6’1, 26 year old model/actor Kevin and his admittedly stunning body. The person I really wanted to spend my time with was Troye. Gorgeous, smart, hilarious, incredibly kind, and so very unavailable Troye. Apparently, my heart didn’t care about age gaps and time differences and geographical distance. It wasn’t interested in practicality, it just knew it wanted Troye.

I started to get more and more freaked out as I realized that I had somehow failed to notice that I was  . . . if not in love, than very heavily infatuated with my best friend. I cut off the Skype call rather abruptly, pleading exhaustion. Troye’s touching concern when I told him how tired I was just made everything worse. 

When the call ended and the screen went dark, I stared at my own face in the computer screen, placing trembling hands over my hot cheeks, willing them to cool down. How had this happened without me noticing? Suddenly none of the guys I would usually go for - the guys who were good for a fun time and a great fuck - were good enough. I wanted someone who made me smile when I was having a terrible day, who shared my passions, who was around for the fun times but also the times when I was frustrated with my family or worrying about the hate I was getting on twitter or feeling crushed by insecurity. 

I wanted Troye.

Once I realized what I was feeling, my feelings toward Troye only grew stronger over the months. At first, I started sleeping around more than I ever had in the past, trying to lose myself in other men’s bodies, trying to find someone, anyone that would distract me from Troye, if only for a few hours. Eventually, though, I gave up trying. I stopped dating entirely. It didn’t feel good to be with other guys that way when the only person I really wanted be with was Troye. I wanted to be with someone who meant something to me. Preferably, someone who meant everything to me.

I knew that the idea of Troye and I together was practically impossible. He was nineteen. I was twenty five. I lived in LA, he lived in Australia. Plus, Troye could have anyone he wanted. Why would he fall for me? I just wanted to get over him, but I didn’t know how to do it.

Now Troye was coming to LA for two weeks, partly for business and mostly to see me, and I was hoping that seeing him would be some kind of wake up call. I had probably completely played him up in my head. He couldn’t possibly be as perfect as I was remembering him. 

I was roused from my thoughts by the ring of my doorbell. My head shot up and a smile found its way unbidden onto my face. My hands shook slightly as I fiddled with my hair and pushed up my glasses, checking my appearance one last time in the mirror before making my way to the door. I opened the door to see a tall, slender, boy with shockingly big ocean blue eyes, luscious pink lips, and waves of brown hair smiling at me widely.

Fuck. He was exactly as perfect as I remembered him.