Under Control.

chapter thirty seven.

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The next time Julian sees Nora post the morning after the night before, is two days later and in his living room, all of five minutes after he's woken up.

He'd been wandering around in a fog of jet-lag come semi-permanent hangover come burnout ever since they'd crash-landed back into the city, and excepting the reprieve that was Nora, Julian had been feeling mostly like he'd had his ass kicked from one side of the Atlantic to the other. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out for. All he did know, was that he'd been woken up by the sounds of soft chatter — that which had been getting gradually louder, thanks in part to the creeping haze of inebriation working it's way around the apartment — and after tumbling from his bed, still denim clad and stale from the day before, Julian had staggered out from his bedroom to the living room, and then into all of this.

And this, specifically, was the sight of Nora, perched on his spot on the sofa with a beer in hand and a peaceful, knowing little smile on her face.

And as well too, it was Albert and Cat, and Nick and Fab, and the floating of very, very many ideas.

Albert was rattling off hopeful plans for things that they could all do together tonight, while Cat, who was as much on Albert's lap as she was on the arm of his chair, seemed agreeable to whatever thing Al's sparking brain tossed out. Everyone else meanwhile was chiming in when the mood struck them — mostly, with the occasional but passionate yes, or no.

Despite the heady ruckus, the room was comfortable in that way it tended to be when they were all packed in together. Everyone seemed lightly buzzed and a little bit overwhelmed to all be back in the same space, in the same place, and with no early call time or office that they needed to be at tomorrow.

Everyone, that is, except for Julian.

Julian's head felt like it was spinning, and not just because the only thing he could get his bleary eyes to focus on was Nora's pretty, unreadable face. It was because he didn't know where things stood between them. And that was because, after the fact, he'd never called.

He really had meant to, but after stumbling back into reality from the bubble that they'd inhabited together at Nora's place for the better part of two days, Julian had realised too late that he didn't actually know her number. He'd decided more or less right away that he couldn't ask Albert — for one, because he didn't want a lecture, but also, because he wanted to keep what'd happened between them to himself, for now. But the failure of that plan, of course, was that he'd yet to come up with a solution that didn't involve asking Albert, and so in the end, between passing out and panicking between, Julian never had figured out a way to get to her.

And now, Nora was here. She was right here, in his living room, looking at him and smiling and making his heart rattle against his ribcage on the spot where he stood.

Julian didn't trust that he was awake enough yet to decipher the expression that was spread across Nora's face, or what his laggy brain thought it might mean. All he could think, was that he hoped he hadn't fucked up again, that she looked beautiful, and that he didn't want to out himself or her or them to a room filled with their friends, just yet.

So, he thought, maybe if he could just get closer to her for a second — if he could just bask in her warmth for a while — then, he might be able to get his shit together.

For her part, Nora didn't seem upset. Or, not obviously anyway. More than anything else she looked amused — by Fab, by Nick's general indifference, by Al and Cat's lush infatuation, and by Julian, who it seemed to her had recently forgotten how to speak, or move, or be. And so with one last glance towards Julian's swaying, sleepy form, Nora shuffled over in her spot on the sofa, and then handed him her beer with a soft smile and a quiet, 'Hey.'