. standing in the way of control

[pat bohannon]

PAT

All in all, the weekend had been a wild success. A rare moment of no work responsibilities, time with friends and his girlfriend, and the ability to do as they pleased, Pat had felt himself be able to relax for what felt like the first time since he'd moved to New York City. It also meant that tonight, after watching the floors of Bodega crowd with musical talent, VIPs and the like all dancing and drinking on his banquettes to a DJ who'd come straight from his set to continue the party, he got drunk. Blindly, wildly, drunk. It's why he's here now, elbows propped against a metal counter in the kitchen, hiding from the masses. Ever aware of what he was itching to do next but tamping it down, throat coating with a mix of restraint and unwarranted jealousy and the reality of his life. Everything was great, everything was a success...but who he wanted to share it with suddenly had shifted, continuing to evade him. "It's for the best," he mumbles into his palms, wincing as Benny banged the counter next to him with a spoon. "Gotta speak up if you wanna be heard." His brother's words float above the ringing in his ears, Pat finally able to straighten up. Maybe too fast, the world spinning a bit too suddenly as he found the edge of the counter yet again. "Don't know if I should say that again actually," he manages, words heavy and slurred. This time to the doors to the kitchen bang open, Pat's head falling back into his waiting hands. "Whyy is everyone so loud back here?"

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

It had been a whirlwind weekend. Leaving the Cat's Cradle trailer to a low whistle from Isaac McAvoy, Stassi had rejoined Olivia and Jane, spilling all the dirty details of her new life as a groupie. She'd sprinkled MDMA into her drink and she was only now starting to feel its effects ease off, though her drunkenness had remained a strong through line-- not least because she'd caught sight of Millie and Pat canoodling, her stomach sinking, cheeks blazing with the memory of her last interaction with the beautiful redhead. "God, I hope she hasn't said anything," she'd said to Jane, who'd replied with a string of words that made Stassi's stomach drop further. "One way to find out. We're all going to Bodega and, no, you can't bail." And so that's where she finds herself, focusing hard in the mirror of the bathroom as she tries to reapply gloss with a shaky hand. Where once this had been her most comfortable place to be, it had transformed entirely, not just from the bustling crowds but from her neglect. Someone bangs on the door and she finally slips out, a pouty model she vaguely recognises pulling another member of Cat's Cradle into the bathroom. Was that band just everywhere? Feeling overwhelmed she pushes through the crowds, bypassing friends and acquaintances to step into the kitchen. She stops dead in her tracks. "Oh. Sorry, I was just hoping to get some water... I'll go wait at the bar like everyone else. Sorry."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

Seeing her is like a shock of cold water, as much of a need for him as it is for her as Pat straightens right back up. It's been so long since he's seen her this close...warily he thinks of the Live he'd clicked into when he'd had a second alone at the festival, stomach turning at the sight. Maybe that's what had lead him here, now, world spinning and yet her this strange, unwavering constant. Trying to forget, finding now how much of an impossibility it was as she aims to leave. "Stas," he murmurs, trying his best to not slur as he pushes a pitcher her direction, ice clanging off the glass. "You really are hammered," Benny scoffs, Pat's eyes simply following along as his brother poured them both a glass before retreating back to one of his stoves. Before long there'd be midnight pasta and maybe he'd have an ounce of restraint back but for now she's here, and he's unable to care if he missteps. "Stay," he decides on, eyes searching for hers. Swallowing hard after he takes his own sip. "I know...I mean..I..just stay, ok? I miss you."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

As children she and Maya had derived a huge amount of enjoyment from creeping up on each other and dropping ice cubes down each other's backs, an ongoing bit that lasted well into their teens. That's what the shame feels like now, mortification hitting her as she finds herself in front of the person she wanted to see the most and the least in the world. She thought of her accident with Millie's Instagram, of her last conversation with Pat himself, of the countless nights she had spent sleepless in bed, unable to stop thinking about what he was doing a few floors below, whether he'd thought of her at all in the last few weeks. It all seems so pathetic now. She takes the cup gratefully from Benny, trying to fix a smile on her face though it falters. She drinks the water quickly, too quickly, choking slightly and having to steady herself with a hand on the nearest counter. Benny retreats and she goes to do the same, before one word stops her. "Stay." Stassi does as she's told, in time to hear that he missed her. She's glad for that steadying hand now, sure she'd have fallen to her knees otherwise. "I miss you too." Crossing the room, she leans against the counter next to him, hoping she seems more composed than she feels. "You know I love it when you're drunk. Have you had a good time?"

[pat bohannon]

PAT

He hates how much relief he feels when she returns it. No, hate isn't right. Pat's brow furrows as he tries to place the emotion, only to lose the thought entirely as she drifted closer. A very Stassi thing to do, a ghost in all the ways that mattered. Skin almost reflecting off the kitchen lights, collarbones almost like moonlight, eyes haunted, existence just...absent, for a while. He'd felt it too, though he's wary to tell her that. Wary to say much of anything at all, not trusting his own body or the thoughts that still lingered. "Your lucky day," he finally slurs, a sleepy grin brightening his features. In trying to hold back he was instead operating on instinct, on impulse, head nodding slowly in a world that felt infinitely brighter with her around. "Hell of a weekend, hell of a night out there," motioning behind the kitchen doors, steps away from a deafening party and yet content to stay in the quiet with her. Forgetting that his girlfriend's out there, her friend, their friends, feeling his hand cover Stassi's tiny one over the counter. Flipping it to the study the underside of her wrist, as if he'd see some invisible tattoo, unsure of what he was looking for but following the pale veins that ran up her arm until his eyes finally made it back to hers. Flashed quickly back to her content, voice suddenly dropping its softness. "I hope you have, too."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

Though she tries to stop her mind from going there, she can't help noticing how good he looks. His facial hair is different and it suits him, he looks in good shape. But more than that, he looks happy. Exhausted, maybe, but happy. She was used to seeing him in his element, eagle eyed behind the bar, juggling a hundred requests like they were nothing. But it's nice to see him loose. Her stomach twists as she wonders what could have finally made it so that he'd let go and enjoy himself, knowing it was probably something to do with Millie. "It sure is," she agrees, taking another sip of water as her eyes roam his face. "It's crazy to see so many famous people here. Not like it's anything new for you, but so many all at once... your Instagram will be flooded with tags tomorrow, Edie's going to have her work cut out for her filtering through." His hand envelops her's and her heartbeat increases to what feels like a fatal speed. She watches as he inspects her hand, laughing, looking too as if she might see something unexpected. "Are you checking that I'm real?" she says, a small smile on her face as his eyes meet hers. Something shifts in his expression and she wants to tell it to go back, a hardening that breaks the spell he had cast only seconds before. "It's been okay." She doesn't know why she offers a lukewarm response, her mind fizzing with memories of drinks and kissing and that horrible, gut-wrenching sight of her friend seemingly in love. She feels like a bitch for feeling that way and so she resolves to smother that part of herself. "I have a confession, I did see you on the grounds. You were with Millie, though, so I didn't want to intrude." Not smothered enough. "You looked happy."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

It's nice, to hear about their success from someone else. Someone he trusted to tell him if something was good or not, another reminder of what he'd been lacking suddenly stood before him again. Allowing the pride to flow through, not just for himself but to what they'd accomplished here, a lot of late night calls and negotiations turning into this. Anyone who was everyone from that festival congregating together, a party for the books that would inevitably hit the write-ups. Pat would almost be afraid to look the next day, grateful again for his sister-in-law as her name falls from Stassi's lips. "Did you see her out there?" Probably lost amongst the masses or demanding they close the door for fire code, eyes dipping as he huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Door's going to need to get pretty picky after tonight." He pointedly looks at her again, once more so strangely aware of how much he trusted her. No matter how elusive she seemed Stassi would come through in a heartbeat for them, something he refused to let go of. Physically, at this point, thumb pressed lightly to the pulse of her wrist. He feels it skitter, another thing to think about later as he smiles. "I have to check all the time - sometimes...sometimes I think you're just the spirit of this building who stayed around to haunt it when we broke ground." Especially lately, drowning in liquored spirits and his own unwillingness to feel good about honoring her request for space. He'd managed, but it hadn't been easy, something like guilt eating him alive every time his mind drifted her way when he was with Millie. Millie. His eyes soften at her mention, trying to gauge when she'd seen them, why she hadn't thought to say hello even with...well, whatever this was. "You could have said hi." He dodges her last remark because he was but he wasn't, something so out of place in his life as he finally, drunkenly cracks. "Saw you on Live...I didn't know you were going to be there. Benny texted me later he'd seen you."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

"I did. We didn't get a chance to speak but we'll catch up later, I'm sure." Edie had called her name across the room, then she had squeezed her into a wordless embrace that said everything that could possibly have been said. Stassi had felt a resurgence of her affection for the woman, for the whole place, for the life that she felt so lucky to have stumbled into when they opened this place mere feet from her floorboards. There had probably never been anyone in history so happy to have a nightclub open on their very own doorstep. But then it was a life she was used to before then, though Bodega had brought a warmth to her nocturnal lifestyle she had never thought possible. "Must be your lucky day too, I know the perfect door girl. She's a real bitch." He takes her pulse and she has to stop herself from pulling away. Excuses for her increased heart rate bubble up to her lips; she'd blame her medication, or maybe she could say she decided to run here? But it's pointless to lie to Pat so she doesn't, letting her body scream what she's too scared to say. "You know me, I'd hate to miss a good party. Death couldn't stop me." He mentions her live and she immediately wants to vomit. Her dad had left a long rambling voicemail about it, questioning how she could be so brazenly shameless, but even the thought of him watching it was preferable to Pat. It had been great for her engagement and she'd had fun doing it, but now she'd do anything to go back in time and not do it, or at least go back to block him before he'd have a chance to see. "That was stupid," she says, cringing, avoiding his eye. "I guess we both should have said hi." A pause. "I'm sorry. I fucked everything up."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

God, to be privy to those conversations. He'd initially been surprised when Stassi had mentioned they'd become good friends, trying to place when they'd interacted much, or even held conversations outside of the group. But his eyes couldn't be everywhere and one look at them greeting each other one evening said a lot. Tempted, always so tempted, to try to press for what they talked about but knowing Edie was as much of a vault as the woman before him could be. More like siren, his mind unhelpfully replies, dropping her wrist in fear she'd test his own heartbeat in return. Knowing she'd find something similar, peaceful grin stretching in amuse at her personal review. "She sounds great." She is great. It's why it's hard to not have her around as much, or hard to dodge Charlie's questions, or Benny's wary eyes. Hard to even admit to himself how deep his feelings went, patched up by platitudes and his concerted effort in dating Millie. Not that she was a replacement...in fact she'd been the original, a schoolboy crush turned consistent date turned girlfriend, muddling through their complicated schedules to spend time with one another. But he always liked shiny things, a moth to a flame, a strange sort of satisfaction coursing through him at her wince. Wondering, always selfishly wondering, just how much she thought about him. Losing all trains of thought but that one at her apology, again reaching for her hand because he doesn't trust himself to pull any further. To hold her any closer, breath ragged in his throat as he thinks back to what had made them this way. "You didn't." His words come out surprisingly resolute, shaking his head even as the world tilts. "You didn't at all. It was me...after Vegas, it-..." trying to find the words, trying to put himself back in that place. But it's all too far and he's so thrilled she's here and that single train of thought comes back unbidden, falling low under his breath in fear of his brother rounding the corner. "I still think about you." His eyes drift deeper into the kitchen, softening to a resigned sigh. "All the time."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

Stassi had wondered what his family really thought of her. She had taken root in his life, weeding her way from him to his business to everyone he knew; sharing private jokes with Luiz, texting Edie, begging Benny to teach her to cook, and most recently, befriending his little sister too. It had come naturally but so had the self-doubt once she was on her own, unmoored by his absence in her life. She had started to think that she had been an intruder all along, imagining that they would all be relieved that she had taken a step back, that they'd laugh about it around the dinner table. She had convinced herself of this so wholly that it had made it difficult to even step out of her apartment building. She feels incredibly stupid now that she's here, his hand back on hers, his warmth radiating through her more powerfully than any drug could. She holds up a hand to tell him to stop as he mentions Vegas, shaking her head. "Don't, you don't have to--" she starts, though what he says next stops her dead. She has to stop, to catch her breath, to think back to whether or not she had taken her medication that morning. Was her grip on reality loosening? "Pat," she says quietly, her mouth dry as her mind raced. Unable to help herself, she takes his hand this time, pulling him into a store cupboard and closing the door behind them. Boxes of pasta, rice and carrots surround them in the dim glow and she leans back against the door. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure I could hear you properly." It's a good as an excuse as any. She fixes her eyes on him, glad the din is behind them, the threat of Benny intruding ever so slightly further away. "Say it again."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

He's not going to take it back. Even if it's too far, even if he sends her running, it feels so intrinsically right that he'd rather them sit in silence than try to reverse the course he'd just set them on. Drunk, exhausted, high on the feeling of success and the proximity of her presence, it's the most normal he'd admittedly felt in weeks. Dizzy but so aware, only recognizing just how out of sorts he physically was when she grabs his hands and tugs. Stumbling behind her, temporarily confused at how strong she was as he's tossed close to a shelving unit. "Ouch," he mumbles, god knows why. Maybe to fill the true silence that's settled in, the yellow haze of the lightbulb casting her gaze bottle green. It felt eerie, unearthly, brought back to the feeling she was some apparition always haunting him. The words that had fallen from his tongue, the sound of his name in her mouth. Recognizing he desperately wanted it again, closing the distance between them with a quick hand to the door."Stassi," he breathes, looming over her as he drifts close to her ear. Voice a bite and a murmur, harsh velvet but remarkably clear."All the time."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

It had been weeks of trying to train her brain not to drift back to him. Not allowing herself to think of him as she pressed the button for her elevator, trying not to see him in the characters of a movie she was watching, refusing to allow his name to reach her tongue when she was talking to her friends. But at night the floodgates opened, her already flimsy attempts to push him from her mind becoming completely useless. She'd think about the way one corner of his mouth would tug up before he smiled properly, of how heavy his accent got on certain words or in certain moods, of how he'd felt on top of her, inside her in Vegas. So to hear that he'd thought of her too makes her feel so much less pathetic-- in fact, it makes her feel powerful. And just like that, she feels powerless too. His hand above her, his voice low and painfully attractive in her ear. "I think of you all the time, too." Her voice is quiet compared to his, uncharacteristically so. It doesn't sound as convincing since he'd beaten her to the punch, though she can't help but feel that he could somehow read her thoughts, that he knew she was thinking of him all the time without her having to say it. She swallows thickly, adrenaline coursing through her body and making it so that she can't think straight, can't conjure up all the very good reasons not to say what she's about to say. "I think about Vegas the most. I've never... it's never been that good. Not before or since." She breathes in his familiar smell, that alone bringing her back to that fateful trip. "I think you broke me, Bohannon."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

Somewhere, deep down, he knows he's chasing something wrong. But it's buried so far it can't reach any kind of surface, suffocating in their proximity and the quick, pale flash of her gaze. Of the expanse of skin curled against the door below him, suddenly back in Vegas with black lace dripping under his palms. The heat of their mouths pressed together, the soft whimpers he'd coaxed from her, head all but dragged under as their breath mingled hot in the quiet. Drowning, finally, as she spoke of it too. It's everything he wished she'd said on that plane, that he wished he'd asked of her, wondering now what all they could have avoided if they'd just spoken to one another. Refused to linger in the awkward silence, his eyes drifting above her head for a few aimless seconds as he contemplated where the hell his willpower had gone. Knowing, always knowing, it had vanished the second he'd seen the hurt flash in her eyes. Because it meant she still weighed her actions against them, glory dripping down his throat at her heated confession. Empty palm now hovering to the curve of her jaw, tipping her head up to bring their mouths even closer. It was too far but he was already too far gone with her, lips ghosting over hers. "I could do it again."

[stassi siminski]

STASSI

The black dress she'd chosen to wear had been an impractical choice for a festival, sheer bar the ruffles that cascaded down its lower half, showing plenty of pale skin through the fabric. It's so sheer that she's sure her heart must be visible, beating so violently in her chest that it felt like it was going to break her ribs. His breath is on her face, mingling with her own though she's holding it as he leans closer, scared that if she breathes out too hard she might break the illusion. She's honestly scared that she might wake up, sweaty and alone, desperate to fall back to sleep to recapture this dream. But it's real. His hand is on her jaw, seemingly huge. He seemed so much more imposing than she remembered, crowding the small room with his bulk, stealing the air from her lungs with his proximity. She would be lying if she hadn't imagined scenarios similar to this, though in those times she'd turn her head, whisper that they shouldn't, couldn't. That's what she should be saying now, but the pull she feels towards him is undeniable, irresistible, a force far stronger than she has the ability to resist. Instead she slips her arms up around his neck, her fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck as she looks from his eyes to his lips and back again. "Well then," she murmurs, pressing herself into him, her lips brushing against his as she talks. "Break me."

[pat bohannon]

PAT

It all hangs in the balance. Each second feels like a year, blurred senses sharpening with every breath they took. The riot of her curls, the wide blink of her eyes that flickers from surprise to something darker, more carnal. Knowing that they drop to his lips momentarily because her lashes flutter minutely against his cheek. Location all but forgotten until his hand is reminded of the metal. In such contrast with the softness of her skin, the harsh of her nails against his neck. Knowing she felt as he did, the thrill coursing through his body as his grip tightens, flashing that same smile he had in Vegas, wicked and hers. Finally dipping down to claim her mouth, parted lips giving way to teeth and tongue and the vivid desperation to send her gasping for air. To leave her wanting more, shifting to hold her hip and keep her close until she has to pull away herself. Drifting down to nip at the pulse point on her neck, stilling at its beat. "As much as I'd like to fuck you right now, it's not going to be in this pantry." Finding her lips again with a slow, off-tempo kiss, wondering if he remembered how to breathe. If he ever would with her around. "Upstairs?"