fly | madderton

FOUR

Richard couldn't help but smile when he turned to look out of their front door and watched Taron drag himself in. He tried his best to hide it, but the glare on Taron's face made it evident that he had done a poor job.

"It's not funny," Taron said, "I swear, you nearly killed me!"

Richard laughed, stepping past his fiancé to close the door. "It wasn't even that hard, babe. Your trainer will go way harder on you, I swear."

Taron whined, leaning his back against the front door whilst he tried to catch his breath. "Can't I just not have a trainer?"

"Yeah, sure, if you don't want a job." Richard laughed, "Go get a shower, you stink."

"Join me?" The pout on Taron's face almost lured Richard in. Almost. He managed to shake his head and deny the, admittedly, very tempting offer.

"I'd love to, but I'm gonna get started on dinner. Go on, go shower."

"Oh, brill, chicken and veg."

There was a grin on Richard's lips as Taron stomped to their room, then back through to the bathroom once he'd got a change of clothes. Richard was hating Taron's change of diet almost as much as Taron himself, because it meant his personal chef going on strike. Richard could cook, sure, but not half as well as Taron could. And cooking proper meals for one seemed a bit sad anyway, so he'd opted to be the supportive fiancé and follow along with the diet. Though, of course, he was allowed a snack when Taron wasn't looking. And he'd occasionally throw a tray of chips in the oven for good measure.

Taron didn't mind. Not really, anyway. He appreciated that Richard was at least trying to support him, even though he didn't have to. It was the same with their training sessions. He was the one to bring it up to Richard, joining him to the gym and on his runs. Taron had always been quite fit without having to try, but his definition of 'quite fit' was far removed from Richard's, who exercised religiously six days a week. When he found out he was basically going to be abused by a personal trainer for weeks before he was allowed to set foot in front of a camera, Taron had asked Richard to help warm him up.

Granted, he hadn't expected it to be quite as intense as it was.

He'd never felt better during a shower. Well, he had, but not whilst actually showering. Every fibre of muscle in Taron's body seemed to be screaming at him, but it was silenced by the relief of the water washing over him. Although he wanted nothing more than to stand for hours under the stream of water, receiving bills in his own name had taught him to keep his showers to under ten minutes. Plus, he knew that his delicious dinner of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables wouldn't be long, and he absolutely could not wait to get his hands on it.

And throw it in the bin, then order a pizza, in the ideal world.

Richard was halfway through cutting said vegetables in preparation to steam them when a pair of arms snaking around his waist caused him to jump out of his skin. "Jesus shitting- Oh my God, T!"

Taron laughed, pressing his face against Richard's neck. "Sorry, babe. Didn't realise I was so sneaky."

"Me neither. Not with the way you stomp around when you're in a mood." Richard grinned, craning his neck to try and look at Taron. This earned him a gentle smack on the side, and a whine against his neck. "Ow- You're awful to me. Carry on at this rate and I'll have all of this to myself."

"Good, have it," Taron murmured, closing his eyes and leaning against Richard. A soft chuckle slipped past Richard's lips as he picked the knife back up and carried on cutting the broccoli.

"You're just a big baby, aren't you? I've seen toddlers behave better, love."

This finally cracked a short laugh from Taron. "Shut up, I am so polite. Adults love me." The bubbling laugh against his skin sent tingles down Richard's spine, and a smile to his lips. "Besides, you can't even see me. I'm behind you."