thisfaceismine | [2/15] morning after

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noah

[2/15] morning after

Though hardly a stranger to hangovers, this one it seems, is particularly heinous.

There's a ringing at his door, the sound piercing through the fog in his brain as he buries a groan into his pillow. His entire body aches, his muscles heavy and he closes his eyes tight against the bad dreams that have apparently decided to pervade his conscious thoughts.

"Fuck off," he grumbles when the bell sounds again, followed quickly by a firm, but polite knock.

Groaning loudly then, Freddie shoves his covers off his shoulders and swings his legs to the floor, frowning against the immediately intense pounding in his head. "I said fuck off," he growls though he's already padding his way through his flat, clad in the same pair of briefs and dress shirt from the night before. He'd gotten as far as unbuttoning, it seems, before he'd given up.

He doesn't bother checking the eyelet to see who's bothering him so early and his lips twist into a confused frown when he finds Noah on the other side, beaming up at him.

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Noah's expression falters when Freddie answers the door, taking in his sleep-rumpled, disheveled form. "So I guess this is why you didn't show up to brunch," he says, his expression sympathetic instead of judgmental. When he'd been waiting at the cafe and Freddie didn't answer his texts (he only sent two, at least) he'd wondered if he made the entire thing up. Or that Freddie had realized he was making a mistake and had changed his mind. Or that he'd fallen in the bathtub and broken his neck. Noah's thoughts had gotten downright ridiculous, which is why he figured he'd just come over and see what was up.

He holds up a small bag in one hand, a coffee in the other. "I got you a fresh coffee and a bagel. Should I just come by later, maybe?"

Edited 2017-02-17 20:15 (UTC)

It all hits like a wave right in the face in that moment. None of it was a bad dream; it all happened.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, glancing down at the bag in Noah's hand as something like panic starts crawling up his throat. He'd asked Noah on a date and had promised the moon and the stars to Marius. And Hild, too. Who even is Hild? He's fairly certain he'd never even seen her before last night. Fuck, he'd-- he asked Jake to move in with him.

He takes a shaky step back, eyes wild as he shakes his head. "I was drugged," he says just as a fresh realization hits and he shouts then, loud enough to be head through the wall though he still turns his head in the direction of his neighbour just in case. "Fucking Magnus!"

Noah should have known better. He's been to enough of Magnus' parties, had he really believed Freddie would look at him the way he'd looked at him last night? Why had he believed it?

He manages somehow to keep his face impassive, the coffee and bag slowly lowering, but he hears it all. He almost laughs when Freddie thinks of Hild, even though the last thing he's feeling right now is humorous.

"Okay," he says softly, wishing he could leave. If he had the excuse of vanishing like before the spell, he'd do it, but Freddie's upset. Noah tries to shelve his own feelings and remember to breathe. Not that he needs to. "It'll be okay. It's not your fault, you can explain to them."

Honestly, he has no idea what he's even saying.

"I'll kill him," Freddie breathes then, still seething.

Or seething as much as he can with a raging headache and an upset stomach. His attention is diverted when Noah speaks again, voice quiet and calm and understanding. Freddie doesn't miss the open look of hurt on his face, however, and he instantly feels about three inches tall, anger dissipating into something a whole lot more like guilt in the blink of an eye.

"Christ, I didn't--" He cuts himself off with a huff and a shake of his head that he instantly regrets before stepping back to wordlessly invite Noah in, closing the door behind him. He glances again at the bag in Noah's hand. "I was supposed to meet you, wasn't I? For brunch. A date."

"Don't worry about it," Noah is quick to say, plastering a smile to his face. He doesn't want Freddie to apologize, or make excuses. It hadn't been him, and it would hurt more to have to listen to Freddie break a commitment he hadn't meant to make. "Here, try the coffee, it might help your head."

"Magnus always does something this, I should have known. At one party people turned into actual cats - that wasn't so bad, actually. At one party there were these masks, and I was sad all night because of the color I picked, it was so stupid. If only I'd realized, I could have warned you, I don't know why I didn't realize," he babbles.

Freddie frowns down at the cup of coffee, but he does take it, holding it in both hands and giving it a sniff as he starts towards his sofa. Not for the first time, it hits him just how nice Noah is. And not in the fake, insincere, just-trying-to-get-into-someone's-trousers way, but the sort of nice that's selfless. Kind. Noah is the type of person who genuinely wants people to be happy, even people has shit as Freddie.

Gingerly, he takes a seat on the sofa, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged, still cradling his coffee in two hands.

He's quiet for a long moment, listening to every word before he looks up again with a faint frown. "But it didn't effect you, did it?" he asks. It's not an accusation so much as a genuine question. "You didn't say yes just because you were drugged up on some sort of enchanted wine."

Noah sets the bag with the bagel inside on the coffee table next to Freddie, and then sits down on the chair across from Freddie. He plays with the hem of his shirt, wishing he could somehow make himself relax.

"No," he says, looking at Freddie's knees, "I was just myself." He'd only had a sip of wine when Freddie had offered, and either it wasn't enough or somehow it just didn't affect him, because thinking back there had been nothing fake about anything he'd said to Freddie.

But he doesn't want to dwell on that, because Freddie hadn't meant to ask him out and that's all that matters.

"You won't have been the only one, though. I bet a lot of the others you talked to had some, too," he says, trying to reassure. "They'll understand, I promise. Unless this is the first Magnus party they've been to, but still, either way, when you explain the wine was spiked they'll know."

There's still a pounding in Freddie's skull and he finally rests his coffee cup against his knee so he can press two fingers against his temple, like he might be able to shove out the ache somehow. Christ, how much did he have last night?

Noah's still talking, his voice quiet and reassuring. For a moment, he wonders how it is Noah even knows that there were others, but then he remembers.

There's no keeping any fucking secrets from Noah. He's worried to find out exactly what else Noah knows about him.

With a sigh, he drops his hand from his temple and frowns down at the carpet. The ache hasn't lessened any and, though Noah's not said he's all that disappointed, Freddie can still remember so clearly the look on Noah's face last night. How happy he'd been at just the idea of a single date. "Don't really care if they don't," he says eventually and it's not entirely a lie. If anything, his biggest worry is Jake having a laugh at his expense for this whole thing.

And Noah.

He looks up then, meeting Noah's eyes. "Would you still want to?" he asks after only a moment's more hesitation. "Try a date, I mean."

Noah meets Freddie's gaze, openly surprised. He's silent at first, wondering if this is something Freddie actually wants, or if he's only asking because he feels guilty. Noah doesn't want Freddie to feel obligated, to feel cornered into going, but he also doesn't want to ask if that's what this is and make a big deal out of something that probably shouldn't be. Except for how he really likes Freddie.

Inwardly, Noah groans at himself and his impossible feelings.

He shifts in the chair, fingers curling around his sweatshirt sleeves. "If that's what you want," he says, trying to not sound too suspicious or too eager, still torn between the two.

Freddie doesn't need to ask if it's what Noah wants. He can still remember bits of the night before even through the pounding in his head, the light in Noah's eyes, how bloody happy he'd been. Has anyone looked at him like that before when they're not drunk on some kind of enchanted wine?

He glances back down at his hands then, at the coffee Noah's brought him even after Freddie stood him up.

"I think I'd like to," he decides, glancing up again, something a little like fear unsettling his stomach. He ignores it. "Promise I won't fuck off in the middle either. We can just, like. Get dinner somewhere. See a movie, maybe. I dunno."

"Sure," Noah says with a tentative, slow-growing smile, looking downward to try and hide it. He tries to push away the what ifs and the worries and focus on right now. And right now, Freddie has a terrible hangover. That's much easier to deal with, to solve. "Here, hang on--"

Noah gets up and disappears into the bathroom before Freddie can say anything. He searches the medicine cabinet until he finds some Darrow brand aspirin, a glass to fill with water, and returns to the living room.

"Take these," he says, sitting next to Freddie on the couch, offering him the pills and water. "Party fallout can wait until you don't feel like crap."

Noah's smile is slower this time, more tentative than it'd been last night and only a little less bright. Something eases in Freddie's chest for just a moment until Noah's quickly pushing himself up and disappearing down the hall.

Confused, Freddie sits up a bit, turns to watch him go, relived when he returns moments later with a glass of water and bottle of pills.

"Might be awhile," he says with a nearly apologetic smile as he reaches over to set his coffee aside in favor of the water. He balances it between his crossed legs as he quickly palms a few pills, knocking them back and washing them down with a quick swig of water. Swallowing, he glances up again, eyes on Noah, his voice quieter when he asks, "You always this nice to everyone?"

"That's a weird question," Noah says with a breathy laugh. He takes the glass of water from Freddie now that he's gotten the pills down, reaching over to set it by the coffee. "Do you think I should be mean to you?"

"C'mere." He smiles again, this time a bit more amused, and scoots over on the couch, giving Freddie a tug to try and get him to lay his head in his lap. "Or are you just asking if you're special?" he teases, arranging Freddie so that he can rub his head.

If there's anyone who should be mean to Freddie, it's Noah, he thinks. But it's Noah who's here with him now, offering water and pills to help his hangover and offering him a lap to lay his head.

Frowning a bit, Freddie hesitates. There's nothing at all sexual in this and Freddie honestly can't remember the last time someone offered comfort like this. Just as he can't remember the last time he let himself take it. He glances up at Noah again, like there might be some evidence in those blue eyes that this is a trick of some kind. But it's Noah. Of course it's not a trick.

So he uncurls his legs and stretches out, shifting onto his side with his head resting on Noah's thigh.

"Am I?" he asks after a long, quiet moment. From here, he can see the tree Noah drew on his wall a few months ago, the branches reaching out, still unfinished. "Or do you do this with all the boys who hurt you?"

Noah is glad Freddie is comfortable enough with him and whatever they have between them to let him dote on him a bit like this. He smiles down at him, gently combing his fingers through Freddie's hair to brush it back away from his face, and then just as gently starts to massage his head.

"It's not your fault, it's Magnus'," he says first, so Freddie knows he doesn't blame him. He doesn't want Freddie to blame himself, either. He pauses the headrub a moment, sweeping his fingers across Freddie's forehead. "And yeah. You are special."

Curling his hand over Noah's knee, Freddie lets his eyes slip shut for a minute, lets himself enjoy the feel of Noah's fingers through his hair, touch light across his forehead. This is the kind of thing that can happen after sex, he's found. Not every time, of course, but with some. The ones who want to stick around awhile, even if only until breakfast.

And Noah's stuck around for six months now. Give or take some times for Freddie acting like an arsehole.

"You been with anyone else recently?" he asks after a long moment, his eyes still locked on the tree. "Like, since we started messing around?"

At Freddie's touch Noah goes back to massaging, fingers exploring Freddie's scalp, rubbing in shallow circles through his hair. His body looks relaxed, and though he's angled sideways Noah watches as his chest gently rises and falls with his breathing. Without thinking, Noah rests one of his hands over Freddie's heart, feeling for the soft sensation of it beating and all that precious life draped across his lap.

"No." Noah's hand stills a moment, a little surprised at the question. He smirks to himself, says teasingly, "But I appreciate you thinking I have enough game to have been."

"I haven't been looking to," he adds, giving a serious answer after a moment. "I don't really care about sex like that."

Noah's touch is hypnotizing and Freddie lets out a low breath as he closes his eyes, lips twitching into a bare smile when Noah jokes. There's a quieter afterward, a lull before Noah speaks again, his voice lower. Quieter.

It's easier to listen to with his eyes closed, Freddie things. Helps his head a bit. And helps the words come to his lips without having to see Noah's face when he speaks them.

"Why not?" he asks, brushing his thumb along the edge of Noah's kneecap. "Not into casual sex?"

Noah's fingers play idly over Freddie's chest, his other hand gentling on his head some, distracted by both Freddie's question and his touch.

"No," he says honestly after a moment's thought. It's not like he's tried it, not the way Freddie does, so maybe he can't say for sure, but it's hard to imagine himself sleeping with a stranger. "I don't think so. Closest I ever did was with you, but..." He pauses, blushes a little, glad Freddie can't see. "It didn't feel casual."

Noah's fingers brush across Freddie's bare chest and, even if it's not really sexual, it's still spreading warmth all through him. A different sort of warmth maybe, but Freddie brings his knees up a little, laying half in a fetal position even as he keeps his eyes closed.

He doesn't want to read too much into Noah's reply though he can still remember bits and pieces of last night, Noah insisting on them being only friends, the hurt behind his eyes.

"Does it... d'you mind that I do it?" he asks, forcing out the words and already readying himself for the reply, for some layer of judgment. It's nothing he's not heard before, but frankly, he's never really cared what others think. In his experience, it's only ever said out of jealousy, by people who can't manage to get laid as much for whatever reason.

But he doesn't think that'd be the case with Noah. His judgment would stem from some other force.

"In general, or like..." Noah grimaces and stops himself from continuing the question. He realizes he isn't sure if Freddie wants to date him or just go on a date. He's afraid to assume, but afraid to ask. He doesn't want to freak Freddie out, but he should know before he gets ahead of himself.

"If we were dating?"

Freddie swallows, his eyes still closed. His head still hurts.

"Dunno," he finally manages, opening his eyes to stare at his hand curled over Noah's knee. "Both, I guess. Never thought you really cared all that much but last night you were goin' on about us just being friends. I guess..."

He trails off, realizing he's not sure where to go with that. How to phrase it. So he shakes his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut again. "Fuck, forget it. This hangover is shit."

"We can talk about it later if you want, but if you mean in general, no, it doesn't bother me," Noah says, veering back into the safer part of the conversation. He hadn't wanted to freak Freddie out, but he feels a little lost. He's never gone from friends with benefits to-- well he's just never even done a friends with benefits thing. If that even is what they'd been doing.

Are doing?

Noah groans inwardly. "I did care that much. I do care that much. So like, the thing is, the sex makes it...more," he fumbles to explain, both of his hands gone still.

Frowning still, Freddie huffs out a breath as he rolls onto his back, his head still pillowed on Noah's thigh and legs bent at the knee, his feet on the cushions as he looks up at Noah.

"More what?" he asks because he's not sure if they're talking about the sex Freddie has with Noah or the sex he's had with other people. "You either care or you don't, right? Hard to have an in-between in this context."

"It makes me care about you more. In like, a not just friends way," Noah says, anxious to have to admit it, especially with Freddie looking up at him with his pretty blue eyes. Especially when, despite being able to hear thoughts, he has no idea what Freddie wants from him. He has no idea what dating means to Freddie.

"I'll be super honest, because I'm realizing it's not doing me any good to just keep everything to myself. Last night, you...pretty much know now, anyway," he says, rubbing a hand self-consciously against his cheek. He takes a slow breath, one he doesn't need but that steadies him a little.

"I like you. I want to be more than your friend, I want a relationship with you. But I was in an open relationship already and I sucked at it, I can't do that again. So, no, I can't date you if you're sleeping with other people. If that's not what you want, then we probably shouldn't do that."

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