#kliego

Diego gives another hop, tugging in vain at the flaps of his jeans, trying to get the button fastened. It’s truly a losing battle, there’s a solid inch and a half of space between the fabric where his belly has taken to burgeoning outwards as of late.

He decides to bring out the big guns in as a last ditch effort to get the stupid button done. Flopping back on his mattress he opts to try sucking it in, but if anything the new position only serves to highly the new layer of plushness he’s managed to acquire.

“Jesus,” he gasps, finally managing to get the button fastened lower on his hips. He feels like he’s being cut in half, like if he breaths too deeply the dang button will give way. He’s not stupid, he had been aware of the weight creeping to his form these past few months, but this was the first time it really hit home that he had gained a sizable amount.

It’s his own doing, but oh it would be so easy to blame it on the two terrors waiting downstairs for date night.

Because Diego’s been wearing the same size since his last growth spurt when he took up boxing more seriously resulting in a new lean frame. Between the training and the new diet he’s adopted, body’s a temple and all that jazz, he has been able to maintain a trim waist.

Not that it mattered now. Because it had only taken three and a half months of officially living with Klaus and Ben for him to be bursting out of his favorite jeans.

He hadn’t quite realized how big of a change them moving in would cause, but between Ben’s newfound interesting in baking and Klaus’ penchant for snacking on all things unhealthy, it was clear that his metabolism couldn’t keep up with the available treats.

He’s too busy caught in his mind wondering just how he got to this point that he completely misses the tell-tale sign of Klaus bounding up the stairs until it’s too late.

“Deedee, what’s taking you so long…” Klaus trails off, pausing in the doorway when he catches sight of Diego still sprawled in bed. “Babe, what’s this,” he motions vaguely in Diego’s direction.

Arm tossed across his eyes, Diego groans. “If you must know…my favorite jeans are way too tight, and it’s all your fault.”

Before Klaus can get a word in there’s a second set of footsteps coming up the stairs as Ben crowds against Klaus in the doorway.

“What’s taking so…oh..!” Ben’s mouth snaps shut as his eyes catch sight on Diego’s form, worn Henley pulled snug against the burgeoning curve of his abdomen where it’s currently displaying a prominent muffin top.

“Moi,” Klaus squawks indignantly. “How is it my fault your jeans don’t fit?”

Grumbling as he moves to sit up, the movement only succeeding in forcing his belly to mound up against his thighs highlighting the way the jeans are cutting into his waist.

“This wasn’t an issue until you two moved in. I’m halfway convinced you don’t know what a vegetable is with the way you only seem to exist on junk and takeout, not to mention Ben’s Paul Hollywood phase, it’s no wonder I can’t fit in my pants…”

“Who said it’s an issue,” Ben asks, eyes still glued to Diego’s belly.

Diego turns his focus on Ben, taking in the faint flush of pink, and the heated stare. It’s overwhelming, having that much focus, makes him feel exposed.

“Honesty Benny’s right, the only issue I see is how you’re oblivious to how hot and bothered you’ve got us right now.”

Diego feels his cheeks heat up as he’s practically eye fucked. He really wasn’t expecting such a reaction, he’d gone from feeling humiliated at his inability to button his pants to a rush of desire at being ogled. The whiplash alone was intense.

“New plan,” Ben manages to side step Klaus as he enters the room, closing the distance between him and Diego. “Forget going out. I say we order in Chinese food and heat up the last batch of brownies I made, so you can let Klaus and I feed you out of those jeans for good.”

Klaus smirks, delightedly clapping in agreement. “That, is a fan-fucking-tastic idea, best date night I can think of,” he nods.

Diego feels a curl of pleasure in their gut as they find themselves nodding in agreement. In for a penny in for a pound, and he’d wager he’s already in several pounds, so what’s a few more?