(no subject)

[iwasmore]

Noah was beginning to regret having not actually just ducked into a bathroom stall with Freddie. The offer to peek had been spontaneous, something he meant to be super casual and not the request he'd made at the mall that had caused another rift between them. But now the reception was over and Noah had driven Donna home, and that meant driving to Freddie's apartment and knocking on his apartment door - not to come over to hang out, but to show off what the city had done to him.

No matter what way he turned it around in his head, coming over to Freddie's apartment like this felt anything but casual. Even though that's all it could be.

He was over-thinking it.

Of course they could just hang out. They'd done it before a ton of times, it would be fine. Maybe he could even forget the boobs thing altogether, maybe it was a bad idea to begin with.

So Noah parked at Freddie's apartment building and knocked on his door, still in the dress he'd worn to the wedding, his hair pulled from its braid and lipstick reapplied. He told himself it was so he wouldn't look like a wreck on his last day as a girl, was all.

Comments

[thisfaceismine]

Noah hadn't given him any indication as to when he might be leaving the wedding. In truth, part of him suspected Noah may reconsider or may decide to go home with Donna instead. Or with someone else entirely. Or no one at all. Apart from the awkward invitation in the mall, Noah'd held fast to his rule of no fooling about any longer and, despite the ongoing tension between them, Freddie had honoured it.

But Freddie can't say he's much of a fan of this position. The waiting. Usually, he's the one to decide this sort of thing. He's not the one left waiting up, unsure of whether or not the other person will even show.

He's not the one who's supposed to care.

But there's no denying the itch under his skin regardless of how fiercely he tries to do just that. He wastes no time in peeling himself out of his suit once he's home, exchanging it for his usual lounge shorts and tank before grabbing the sketch pad he'd purchased a few weeks ago. Settled on his sofa, Freddie refuses to let the quiet of his phone bother him as his pencil scrapes across paper, scribbling faceless figures and trees and pointless shapes until the knock at his door pulls him from his thoughts.

Something like relief rolls over him and he answers the door with a faint smirk, taking in the fall of Noah's dress once more. "Why the formality?" he asks, his voice teasing. Because Noah has no real use for doors, has popped into Freddie's flat more times than he can count, his arrival always heralded by a text or phone call.

The again, everything about this meeting is a little different.

[iwasmore]

Noah smiles up at Freddie, trying to ignore the nervousness in his chest that feels a lot like butterflies. It's ridiculous to feel that way around Freddie of all people, so he walks past him and inside, staying turned toward him. "Didn't wanna catch you on the toilet," he lies. There isn't a reason for knocking instead of just showing up, at least not one he can find an explanation for.

He pulls his flats off one at a time, watching Freddie and taking in his pajama pants and tank top. He looked good in the suit, but he looks even better like this, all relaxed, bare feet and arms.

"Now I feel overdressed," he teases, leaning on the arm of the couch. "And here I was hoping you'd save a dance for me."

[thisfaceismine]

Noah discards his shoes by the door before heading for the living room, the flow of the dress making it look like he's floating almost and, smirking, Freddie follows, his own footsteps silent on the flooring.

"Who's to say I haven't?" he argues as he steps closer. There's something almost nervous in the way Noah holds himself, something in the twitch of a smile on his face. Freddie nearly wants to draw attention to it, nearly wants to point out that this whole thing is Noah's idea. Except he already knows where that might lead and, despite the warning bells going off at the back of his mind, Freddie's intent on seeing where this might lead.

Even if there's every chance that it will lead absolutely nowhere.

"Is there a rule stating one must be wearing a suit to dance?" he asks with a tip of his head as he reaches out to graze his fingertips lightly along the fabric of Noah's dress.

[iwasmore]

Noah smiles at Freddie's reply, expression slipping into something more intent as he steps closer. Noah lets him back him up against the couch and sits down on the arm instead of just leaning against it, gazing up at him.

"You have a point," Noah says, watching Freddie and reaching one foot out to lightly brush along Freddie's ankle. He sneaks his big toe up the leg of his sweatpants, then drops his foot, letting it fall back once more against the side of the couch, gently kicking his feet like he hadn't meant to do that at all. He tilts his head to the side with a playful smile. "But there at least has to be music."

[thisfaceismine]

There's nothing in Noah's body language right now that isn't inviting. He's sat on the arm of the couch, big blue eyes trained upward, features familiar and strange both at once as he slides a foot up Freddie's leg.

"Does there?" Freddie responds, not yet pressing any closer but not moving away either. He glances away then, toward the television that remains dark before he gives an idle shrug and then steps back, lips still quirked in a grin. "Shame. Don't her anything. S'pose we'll just have to go without."

[iwasmore]

"Oh, come on now, Frederick, a little effort," Noah says with a grin, sliding the tiny purse slung over his shoulder onto his lap and taking his phone out. He takes the purse off entirely, dropping it to the floor, and opens the music app on his phone. He searches a moment until he finds a song, something pretty and slow, and turns it on, setting the phone down on the arm of the couch.

He smiles up at Freddie again and stands, holding his hands out and looking at him expectantly.

[thisfaceismine]

It's not a song Freddie recognizes and he's still fighting a smirk as the music filters through Noah's phone, tinny and quiet in his flat before Noah sets it down on the couch and reaches for him.

"You're assuming I even know how to dance," Freddie says, but he's already taken Noah's hand and drawn her closer, easily fitting his other arm around Noah's waist, the sheer fabric soft against his fingertips and Noah's skin warm beneath it. There's something strangely intimate about the moment, something almost romantic that Freddie's determined to not look at too closely. "I don't remember this being part of your proposal," he says instead as they slowly fall into an easy sway to the rhythm.

[iwasmore]

Noah lets Freddie draw him in, slipping his free hand up Freddie's bare arm to gently hold onto his shoulder, keeping them close. His hand is small in Freddie's. His body feels different pressed to his, or maybe it's just because Noah hasn't been held like this in such a long time that it feels like a wonder. He rests his cheek against Freddie's chest, tucks his head under Freddie's chin, and smiles to himself as they gently sway.

It's warm. Like how he'd been cold for those seven years and now he's alive again.

"Yeah, well," he finally murmurs. "You want to see my tits, and I want a dance. Seems like a fair trade."

[thisfaceismine]

"I don't have to see your tits," Freddie argues with obvious amusement. "Seems to me you're keen to show them off; I'm only a willing spectator."

It's not quite the truth, of course. Freddie's eager to see anything Noah's willing to show him, new breasts or otherwise, but this feels like a free pass of sorts. An interim before it's back to only being friends. It's not like Freddie to tolerate getting only the scraps of any given thing, but he supposes Darrow's changed a lot of things.

For better or worse.

[iwasmore]

"You shouldn't act so blasé about them, they're very nice," Noah scolds, more playful than anything. It's true, though, it was his idea. A tiny voice in the back of his mind says maybe it's more about Freddie than his body, maybe it's just an excuse. But he ignores it. He's over Freddie. Has been for awhile now. He's fine. It's just a novelty he wants to share with a friend.

He's thinking so hard he can't even hear Freddie's thoughts, and at this rate he's going to think himself right out of being here, so he focuses on the song and the warmth of Freddie's body while they dance instead. He moves his hand, traces his fingers slowly up and down the back of Freddie's neck.

"You smell good. Did you wear cologne to the wedding?"

[thisfaceismine]

There's no arguing that. Though Freddie's only seen the breasts in question through various pieces of clothing, he can easily assume that they're indeed very nice. Soft and milky white, probably, nipples the same pink as Noah's bottom lip.

He's fallen quiet, Freddie notices, his head still tucked against Freddie's shoulder and Freddie tries not to think about the last time he danced like this. It's been years, at least. This isn't the type of many people are ever interested in with him.

"Mm," he replies at Noah's question, a quiet 'yes' as he tips his head a bit so that Noah's hair tickles his nose. "Sort of thing you do for a wedding, isn't it? Even a wedding for assholes."

[iwasmore]

Noah only realizes his eyes have closed when he opens them to laugh at Freddie's comment. It's as soft as a yawn, and he winds his arms a little tighter around Freddie's shoulders, eyes lowering but not quite closing. "They aren't assholes," he chides, laughter still in his voice. "I don't think Magnus' party tricks are meant to hurt anyone."

Even if they do, sometimes.

"You still came," Noah says, smiling to himself.

[thisfaceismine]

Alec maybe be more of an asshole by association, but Freddie isn't inclined to rescind his comment.

Instead, he spans his hands wide against Noah's back, sliding them upward just a bit and then down again as he tips his head to meet Noah's eyes.

"You invited me," he points out, ignoring the tug in his stomach reminding him that Noah had clearly been angry enough to not want to go with Freddie after all. That he'd asked someone else. Someone who may or may not be interested in someone else though Noah's interest in her is quite obvious. He shrugs, pushing that thought aside. "Didn't have anything better to do."

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie hasn't a clue what time they both fall asleep, but his muscles are pleasantly sore, his bed sheets damp with sweat and come. Noah's hair tickles his arm and the last thing he sees before he passes out completely are the impossible blue of his eyes.

It's sunlight that wakes him some time later and he squints blearily against the harsh rays. His legs are tangled in sheets and his left arm is nearly entirely numb, prickling when he tries to free it from the weight of--

Ah.

Freddie can't say he's exactly disappointed by the sight of Noah's more familiar broad shoulders and lean back, the tiny cinch of his waist. He can't say he's surprised either; they both knew there would be a bit of an expiration date to this. That'd been entirely the point, after all.

Still, there's no denying the sink in Freddie's stomach as he gently eases his arm free and clenches his fingers in and out of a fist to get the blood pumping. For once, he's not the least bit hungover, but he rubs at his eyes with his other hand all the same, remember bits of pieces of the night before, the fall of fabric over Noah's breasts, the shape and feel of him under Freddie's hands, the wet, tight clench of his body and the sounds...

Frowning, Freddie shoves the thoughts aside and slips out of the bed. He needs a piss.

[iwasmore]

Last night had been amazing, well worth the nervousness and indecision over whether or not to come over in the first place. As a ghost Noah's always been able to concentrate his recovery time into a matter of moments if he wanted to. Last night he didn't let himself, he didn't really need to even though it left him sore and oversensitive. At one point Freddie used his mouth to bring him to the brink at least half a dozen times before making him come. And his cock...

Noah sleeps hard, at first spooned up next to Freddie, the both of them a sweaty, exhausted mess.

He wakes up in Freddie's bed, in his old body. It's a strange, disorienting feeling. He watches Freddie wander into his bathroom and rolls onto his back, focusing on his breathing and taking stock of his surroundings and his old, male body. There's still dried come on his chest.

When he hears the toilet flush Noah manifests in the open doorway, smiling at Freddie.

"Morning," he says, running a hand through his now short hair to try and tame it.

[thisfaceismine]

One moment, Freddie's alone in the toilet, and the next he's not.

"Jesus--!" he starts as he reaches to flush, his cock hanging flaccid between his thighs as he throws Noah a mild glare. There's no real heat in it, despite the scare, and he quickly washes his hand, glancing at Noah briefly in the mirror.

"Back to normal then, are you?" he says as he turns off the taps, gaze dropping to wander down the front of Noah's bare chest. "Glad to have your cock back?"

[iwasmore]

Noah laughs at Freddie's reaction, quiet enough to almost be a giggle. He can't stop smiling, even in the face of any potential irritation from Freddie.

"Yeah, guess so," he says, glancing down momentarily, but looking right back to Freddie. He feels...comfortable again. This is the body he knows, he feels right im it. He moves so Freddie can exit the bathroom and he can take his turn.

"Disappointed?"

[thisfaceismine]

They switch places by the door, Noah stepping in as Freddie twists by him to stand in the doorway, making no effort to look away as Noah approaches the toilet. The fact that ghosts even need a pee is still a bit bewildering to him, but if other bodily functions work, he supposes it makes some bit of sense.

He replies only with a shrug as he leans against the doorframe. "You made a pretty hot girl," he concedes, though he as a feeling Noah's well aware.

Then again, Noah doesn't seem to think he makes a very hot boy either so what the fuck does Freddie know? His lips quirk into a grin, a look that borders somewhere between teasing and cruel. "Miss your tits already."

It's not something Freddie would ever actually say to any woman, but Noah doesn't count, obviously.

[iwasmore]

There's a brief, jarring moment where Noah nearly sits to pee, but he realizes in time. He relieves himself, flushes, and washes his hands in quick succession, moving in front of Freddie in one fluid motion.

"I'm glad you liked them," is all he says, walking past Freddie, reaching his arms above his head in a long stretch. He was way hotter as a girl, but he does feel like himself again which is nice. And even if he doesn't have the great tits and ass, something about him attracted Freddie at one point so he's not going to feel too bad.

"So what's for breakfast?" he asks, wandering into the living room.

[thisfaceismine]

As hot as Noah had been, there's an undeniable ease in his movements now that hadn't quite been there last night. Maybe it's a center-of-gravity thing. He stretches his arms over his head, showing off the long, lean line of his bike as he wanders back into Freddie's room as Freddie watches with a faint frown.

"Dunno," he admits because he hadn't thought that far ahead. Figured their morning would be a bit more awkward than it is so far, that Noah wouldn't want to stay long at all.

He glances back over his shoulder toward the vague direction of the kitchen. "Probably got a few eggs that are still good. Bread. Egg on toast?"

[iwasmore]

"Sounds good, want me to make it?" Noah asks. He refuses for it to be awkward, he's in too good of a mood. He's back in his body, he spent the night with Freddie having tons of awesome sex, and so far he isn't feeling regretful about it. Maybe later when he's sitting at home fucking pining or whatever like his brain or his emotions tends toward, then he'll probably want to kick himself. But not right now.

He stops short when he reaches the living room and picks up his discarded dress and women's underwear.

"Uh. Shoot. Do you have some pants I can wear?" He doesn't mind being naked around Freddie, but he doesn't want to make breakfast with his balls hanging out.

[thisfaceismine]

Freddie wants over to the side of the bed, picking up his discarded underwear from the night before and slipping them on, followed a moment later by a pair of shorts he'd kicked into his closet before he wanders out into the main room and toward the kitchen.

"I've got it," he says because he's always been a bit particular about his breakfast food and it his kitchen. He glances over a moment later, fighting a smirk as Noah picks up his dress and panties from the night before. Pausing, he pretends to think it over then heads for the cupboard to pull out the saucepan. "Bet you'd still fit in the underpants," he suggests. "Give it a try."

[iwasmore]

Noah laughs in surprise, looking over at Freddie with raised eyebrows. "Is that something you're into?" he asks lightly, briefly wondering if there's anything Freddie isn't into.

But Noah will give anything a try at least once, so he slips the panties on. The bulge of his cock, though soft, looks especially obscene underneath the satin pink trimmed in lace. Maybe Freddie's onto something.

"No sex until I eat, though," he says, wandering over to the kitchen. "I'm starving."

[thisfaceismine]

Again, Freddie replies only with a shrug at first before turning the knob for the back burner and wandering to the kitchen to find butter, bread, and eggs. In truth, it's not something he's ever really played with before. Not really. It's one of those things that seems more suitable to people who are in a relationship for awhile, who trust one another.

Freddie's never really gotten to that point with anyone. That, or he's never dated someone into that kind of thing.

He can see Noah moving out the corner of his eye and glances over a moment later, not bothering to hide his smirk when he sees Noah glad in the lacy pink underwear, his cock straining the fabric in a way. Whether he's thought on it much or not, Freddie can see the appeal.

"Still think it's weird you even get hungry," he admits as he drags his gaze up to Noah's face again. "D'you like bacon?"

[iwasmore]

Noah sits down at the small kitchen table to watch Freddie cook. He tries not to let it bother him, how Freddie still thinks about how different he is. How not human. He can't blame him, it's just moments like this where he especially wishes he was alive again. Like Ariel and her legs.

"Sure, bacon's good," Noah answers, leaning his elbows on the table. He's quiet for a time, trying to decide what he should or shouldn't say about what they did last night. It's still bothering him, their argument at the mall and what Freddie said.

"I really liked last night," he starts, pauses, opens his mouth to continue, but closes it.