Freddie had spent his first semester of college doing everything he was supposed to do. He did well in all of his classes, he rushed a fraternity, he drank, he smoked, he failed some classes, he slept with so many dumb sorority girls his head spun.
Then he met Shawn. They were in the same graphic design class. Freddie took the class on a whim, told by one of his fraternity brothers that it was so easy he wouldn't have to do a thing and he'd get an A. He needed the GPA boost, and after getting a D in the calculus class that he didn't understand (or need – what the hell was he going to do with calculus in Audio Visual Communications and Computer Science?) he figured the agony of graphic design was a worthy punishment for his stupidity.
Shawn was everything he ever wanted. Arty. Quirky. Honest. Cute.
And he was also a man.
Shawn was ok with that. They shared a table, and those occasional 'accidental' arm brushes, or oops-I-dropped-my-pencil-can-you-get-it?s, only escalated until Shawn finally said, "Hey, are you doing anything after this, 'cause I'd love to get some coffee with you?"
It was blunt. And Freddie loved it.
No more frat parties, no more spewing his insides to dingy grimy toilets that had seen decades of barf before him, no more nameless giggling blonde bimbos. Suddenly he was spending his Friday nights discussing the cultural impact of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass and what the homoerotic subtext did for American gays. He was seeing art shows. He was cutting the sleeves off his shirts to show off more skin at the club.
When he got his ear pierced, his right ear, at Shawn's urging ("I swear, Freddie, after I got mine done I got my ass grabbed so often walking across campus I had to take the damn thing out. Guys you wouldn't've dreamed were queers will come out of the woodwork asking for your number."), his frat brothers started talking behind his back.
He'd hear whispering as he got out of the shower, 'don't drop the soap, man!', and get disgusted looks every time he climbed the stairs to his room.
And then they found Shawn blowing him, in his closet nonetheless, and it was all over.
"Don't worry, dude. You can live with me. Those assholes don't deserve to have your hot ass around," he found Shawn assuring him as he sobbed into his shoulder.
When he'd calmed down, he still didn't feel any better. "My mom - she was so proud that I got in. What am I going to tell her now? She doesn't know… about us."
"I don't know. My family pretends they don't know. They think you're Francis Benson, a blonde haired pre med sophomore," Shawn ruffled his hair.
Freddie snorted.
*
While he was still in college it was easy to forget about everything at home. But the summer came faster than ever, and he soon found himself saying goodbye to Shawn, who was studying abroad over the summer. Promises of getting an apartment together would be worked out, they both swore, but Freddie knew he'd be lucky if Shawn even came home. The guys in Britain had way bigger cocks, they always joked.
So Freddie found himself back in his mom's apartment, thrust back into the world he so fervently desired to leave.
*
At home Freddie was back in the closet. He had to take the cute little stud Shawn had gotten him for his birthday out of his ear. He had to stuff those pink fuzzy handcuffs in the back of his underwear drawer. He missed Shawn's dorm room and his privacy.
The moment he sat down on his bed all his fears about his sexuality came rushing back. It was like he was a scrawny sixteen year old boy again, jerking off in the shower while trying to push those thoughts of Spencer out of his mind and focus on Carly.
Spencer. Oh god. Spencer was right across the hall again.
Spencer had always been like a big brother to him. But as Freddie had grown older and went to him more often for advice about girls, he began to realize it wasn't the girls he was seeking, it was time alone with the older man.
He'd hoped it would go away. He'd screwed countless girls during that first semester thinking that maybe he'd find the right fit, or someone lose his desire for the man.
Shawn had shown him that all those desires were ok, and for a while he had forgotten.
He'd spent late nights discussing his first male crush with Shawn and the guys over coffee.
"You could always still go for it, man," Shawn had told him, turning his collar up to the cold air as they began home. "You said yourself you've never seen him with a chick."
"I don't know," Freddie had mumbled, "he's always seemed like a breeder to me."
Shawn's words haunted him as he pulled his sheets over his head, annoyed. Dinner with his mom had been so horrible that night – those invasive questions: "So, Fredward, did you meet anyone special?"
Yes. Just the greatest blow job giver this side of the Mississippi. "No, mom. Not really. There was this girl, uh, Shelly, that I was seeing for a while. But she's studying abroad for the summer."
The horrible lie should've been gnawing at his insides, but he felt pretty good about it. Shelly. Haha.
"So what's her major? She's not some art student, is she, Freddie? You know what I've told you about how artists…" His mom had begun lecturing.
"No mom, actually… she's pre med." Freddie had grinned inwardly. Shawn really knew what he was doing.
"Oh Freddie, that's absolutely wonderful! You'll have to bring her home to me sometime. I'd just love to meet her. What a nice girl she must be. Pre med!"
Freddie rolled his eyes at the wall. He'd tell her eventually.
He was going to see Carly tomorrow and catch up. He hadn't seen her since she left for UC Berkeley in August. Spencer was so proud.
Damn it. There he went again.
He could always try telling him. He could even go for Shawn's suggestion.
He'd just have to wait and see.
*
By the time he walked out of Spencer's room he just felt resigned. A hopeful sort of resignation, almost. Spencer was bi. That could – but no. Really, Freddie. Really? There's a twelve year age difference in the way of all this. It wouldn't really matter if Spencer was the biggest queen in Seattle, he's too old.
Carly and Sam were already making more pancakes, laughing.
As he settled back down at the bar, they fell back into the familiar rhythm that had held them together throughout high school. Sam was still insulting him, Carly was still the feeble peacemaker. Their jokes were a little bit dirtier, and they spoke much faster, having so much to discuss, but everything was almost like it used to be.
Freddie didn't really like that. He wanted to be back with Shawn and the guys. Carly and Sam were so different than him now. It was so hard to be out of the closet for so long comfortably and then have to go back in so quickly.
And then that question he'd been dreading and hoping for came up, "So, Freddie, did you meet any girls?" Carly asked with a grin. They were sitting up in the old iCarly studio, just like old times.
"What kind of girl would want to meet Fredweird?" Sam snorted. Freddie shot her a look. Some things never changed.
"Well, uh. I mean… not really a girl…" Freddie started nervously.
"Well what then? A chicken?" Carly laughed.
"Uh… Actually… No. No one really." Freddie grinned fakely. "There were a couple girls, but not anyone special."
This whole lying thing was getting easier and easier.
A/N - I just wanted to thank those people who reviewed!
Once again, I don't know where to go with this, and I'm always happy to do what the reader wants. I'm thinking next chapter we'll hear about Spencer and Socko. I promise, there'll be some sex soon, if not in chapter three, then definitely in chapter four. Any other input or ideas are always welcome! Thanks for reading.
