iwasmore | (no subject)

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.

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Freddie's being so subdued, now it's getting to the point where Noah isn't even sure he wants him here. Maybe he should have left instead of bringing up breakfast. He just...didn't want to leave.

"I guess I do," Noah says with a tentative smile, blushing a little at the thought. He also can't help but think of his time with Krem, and maybe it was both their inexperience at the time but they'd never done half the things he and Freddie did. "I don't know if I was half as good as you, though."

It seems an odd comment, or maybe it's just Noah's tone. The atmosphere is a strong contrast from last night when everything had been fun and easy and hot.

Now it's back to real life. Or something like that.

"What's that mean?" he asks, with only a hint of a defensiveness. Mostly, he just doesn't understand. "Sex isn't a contest, is it? I had a good time."

He'd made every minute memorable, he thinks. At least for himself.

Noah blinks, staring at Freddie.

"I swear, sometimes it's like we're speaking two different languages. I didn't mean me versus you, I meant me in bed, like, being with a girl? You were-- it was a compliment. I think I had like five hundred orgasms. Being with you is always good...is what I mean," he explains, or tries to, sounding just as awkward as he didn't want to. It's stupid to get so shy and bumbling around someone who's literally licked out your asshole, and vice verse. Noah's been friends with Freddie for over a year now, but he supposes it's Freddie's unpredictable nature that sends him stumbling over his words sometimes. He's never sure when he expresses too much.

"I know what you meant," Freddie lies, ignoring how pointless it is to do so as the tips of his ears burn pink. There's nothing he can hide from Noah, is the thing. Nothing he can really keep secret. In one way or another, Noah will always figure it out, usually at the worst time possible.

He turns back to the stove, busying himself with laying out the strips of bacon.

"Glad to be of service, at least," he says, his voice clear as he lays each strip out one by one. "You've got a good few tricks to show on Donna later now, yeah?"

Unseen, Noah makes a face at Freddie's reply. Of service makes it sound like he was a prostitute or something, or like he didn't enjoy himself, and Noah knows he did despite whatever blase attitude he wants to have about it now.

"Donna's into her best friend, not me," he says dryly. She might have been sort of into him when he was a girl, but even if his body had stayed that way he doubts it would have lasted. Not when she was always thinking about Laura.

"Yeah, so you said," Freddie remarks because he does remember Noah mentioning that at the wedding. There's no telling how long that will last though. Sweet as Noah is, it's more than a little surprising he's not ended up with someone already. Only a matter of time.

The bacon starts to sizzle faintly as Freddie moves to cut out the bread for the eggs, working studiously.

"Tea?" he asks over his shoulder. "Or are you too American for that? Think I've got some coffee as well."

Noah snorts softly. "Oh, come on, you Brits don't have a monopoly on it. Tea's fine, I can make it while you cook," he says. Only, when he stands up he realizes he's still just wearing the panties, and his face goes hot. He takes a moment to decide whether or not to sit back down or push through his discomfort.

Screw it, he wore them last night, they're just underwear. Noah walks into the kitchen to find the kettle, lace and all.

"I hope you're enjoying this, over there in your boxers."