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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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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.

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."

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.

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."

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."

"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.

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.

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."

"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.

"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?"

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."

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.

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."

Freddie's hands feel good, but they'd feel better without the gauze of the dresses' material between their skin. Noah goes warm at the thought, briefly wishing such thoughts would stop coming altogether, but it's hard when Noah can so easily remember how good Freddie feels.

It gets worse when Freddie looks at him with his blue eyes. Noah can hear a thread of jealousy in his thoughts, which is absurd, and he smiles as if to say so.

"So you'd go anywhere I invited?" he asks teasingly, the room going quiet as the song comes to an end.

He huffs a laugh at that, immediately shaking his head. "Know better than that," he says, his eyes locking on Noah's for a long moment, searching. Noah's lips look as inviting as ever and he forces himself not to lean in and wonders how much of his thoughts Noah's listening in on right now. Or if he's stopped doing that altogether, too afraid of what he might hear.

The song fades to quiet and Freddie pulls in a breath as he smooths his hand higher up Noah's back, grazing the fall of his blond hair lightly.

"That fulfill the obligation?" he asks, trying for teasing though he doesn't step back any.

For a moment Noah thinks Freddie is going to kiss him, and he waits, holding his breath, forgetting to answer whatever it is Freddie said. But the moment passes and nothing happens and Noah pushes down on a feeling of disappointment. He's being stupid, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"Yeah," he says, and tries to smirk, but it comes out more like a slightly goofy smile. And then he teases, because teasing is easy. "You still interested?" He bites his lip, smiling fully now like he's on the edge of laughter.

"This dress zips in the back."

The crooked curve of Noah's smile is inviting and Freddie mirrors it with his own grin as he smooths his hands down Noah's sides.

"Feels a bit like a Peep Show," he admits even as he drags one hand up the middle of Noah's back until his fingers find the metal of the little zipper. He fiddles with it lightly as he lifts his other hand to Noah's hair, brushing it lightly over his shoulder to keep it out of the way and then starts to drag the zipper down bit by bit.

Noah rolls his eyes, but otherwise keeps his gaze on Freddie's face. He wants to see his reaction, if he still finds him attractive in this body and how much. Noah finds his new body attractive, even more than his usual one, but maybe it's because he almost feels detached from it. It's a bizarre feeling, he's tried not to dwell on it too much.

"That means you're only allowed to look," he says with a coy smile. He doesn't move to help Freddie with the dress, leaning back against the side of the couch once more. "Is that what you want?"

The dress droops slightly, fabric loosening as Freddie drags the zipper further down. It hangs a bit off Noah's slender shoulders, revealing more of his familiar pale skin and the sliver of a pink strap.

Noah's comment is surprising and he arches an eyebrow in response, genuinely unsure of what to say for a moment before he manages, "Didn't realize touching was an option."

It's only partially a lie. Noah hadn't mentioned anything apart from letting Freddie have a look but every moment since Noah's arrival in his flat has felt weighted, rife with a tension Freddie can usually ignore. This time it's too heavy, every moment hanging with promise as well as the knowledge he could fuck things up all over again.

The fabric of Noah's dress falls further and, tentatively, Freddie lifts his other hand again to trace along the pink strap holding tight to Noah's right shoulder, following the line of it downward to where it disappears beneath the fall of sheer cloth.

Noah tries to think of another instance where he's made Freddie speechless like that, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe because he can't think of anything right now beyond the barely-there brush of Freddie's hand along his shoulder, the way he touches the bra strap almost tentatively like he's never seen one before. He's starting to think he's not going to live up to expectations with the way Freddie's drawing it out.

"Well, I came all the way here," Noah reasons, glancing from Freddie's hand and back to his face, looking up at him. He reaches out with his foot, hooking it loosely around Freddie's ankle. "I could have just sent a picture."

"Mm, true," Freddie agrees because he honestly hadn't thought of that before. Can't help wondering what it means that Noah hadn't offered that instead though he thinks it likely has to do with wanting to see someone's reaction as much as show them.

With a tip of his head, Freddie lifts his other hand, tugging the remaining fall of fabric so it slides fully off Noah's shoulders and hangs at his waist and the hooks of Noah's elbows. The bra beneath is a bright, lacy pink and Freddie can't help but grin at the sight of it, glancing up to smirk at Noah as he reaches a hand around wordlessly to find the clasp.

The top of the dress pools around Noah's waist, settling there with the way he's sitting against the arm of the couch. When Freddie reaches to unhook his bra, Noah stands, getting a little closer. There's still a hint of butterflies, but when he feels the bra go loose he helps slip it off with his free hand, holding onto his dress with the other, gathering it at the waist so it doesn't fall to the floor.

"Nice, right?" he says with a tentative smile.

Freddie's seen more than his share of breasts in his life, has even helped peel a woman or two out of her dress just exactly as he's doing with Noah right now. It's never felt quite like this, however. For obvious reasons.

The tension in the room seems to pull tighter as Noah pushes up from the arm of the couch and into Freddie's space, holding his dress up at the waist and bra in one hand. He's completely bare from the waist up, milky-white skin on full display. They're bigger than one might assume of someone of Noah's stature, but only slightly, and Freddie doesn't even pretend to not look. After all, that's the whole point.

"Very nice," he agrees with a smirk, one hand still on Noah's waist, thumb brushing bare skin as he holds the fabric in place. He steps in closer, head ducked to admire the peak of each nipple as he slides his other hand up Noah's arm and then lets go to brush two fingers down the swell of one breast, skin soft and smooth.

He glances up then, eyes locking on Noah's and lips still twitched in a grin. "Okay?"

Noah doesn't realize how badly he wanted Freddie to touch him until he actually is, such soft, exploitative touches, teasing in a way that sends shivers along Noah's skin. He wants more. He wants Freddie's hands all over him, fuck, not because he's a girl, just because.

But he doesn't ask, not yet. Freddie knows how he likes to beg, but he waits, partially because after that fight at the mall Freddie might say no, partially because he wants to draw it out, see what Freddie does.

"Yeah," he breathes, reaching over with his free hand to curl his fingers in the hem of Freddie's tank top.

Noah doesn't exactly shiver under his touch, but there's a flicker in his eyes and a hitch of his breath that Freddie doesn't think he's imagining. Or maybe he only hopes he's not imagining it. Noah's chest heaves slightly beneath his fingertips and he skims lower, following the under curve of Noah's beast and brushing his thumb along the bottom edge of the pink surrounding his nipple.

There's a hand on his shirt then, clutching the bottom hem to hold him in place and Freddie swallows, eyes flicking up to Noah's again, searching as he cups the heft of Noah's left breast in his right hand.

"Feel a bit like a pervert," he admits, his voice a whisper as his lips twitch into a bare grin. He smooths his other hand up then, just the edge of his thumb tucked under the flesh of Noah's right breast.

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