Bodyslam

Crossbody

T/W: discussion about sexual & physical assault, very low detail

The noise level inside as they walk in the door is already impressive, but it increases to a moderate roar when people catch sight of them.

"It's already up on Youtube!" Renegade yells over the din in Mitch's direction, holding his phone above his head. "Three different uploads so far! You're gonna be famous! Let him through, people, he needs a shot!"

"Renny, we're all gonna be famous!" Mitch yells back as they wind their way through the mass of bodies in the kitchen. Someone presses a shot of something into his hand and he throws it back immediately - whiskey, not his favorite but he can be picky once things calm down a little.

Relatively speaking, that is. Things won't really calm down tonight. He's seen wild parties after big shows, great matches, good press, but tonight is on a whole different level.

They finally make it to the kitchen island where the drinks are set up. Renegade slides two shots of tequila over and holds his phone so they can see the screen. "There might be more," Ren says loudly. "I only searched for recent CCWA uploads. What if this goes viral?" He's grinning like a lunatic.

"It might. I hope it does!" Mitch pauses and forces himself not to react when he feels a hand rest on the small of his back. Snacks leans forward next to him to look more closely at Ren's phone and it takes actual effort to stay composed. "If it doesn't tomorrow that might change on Monday when we put out the press release."

Snacks isn't drunk. He's capable of making decisions, and if he wants to show a tiny bit of affection or seek some physical comfort after a rough evening it's up to him. After their talk on Tuesday, and a couple more since, the idea of balancing trust and control is one of the potential solutions they'd come up with to handle their current fucked up situation. Mitch's first instinct was to slip away from the touch - not because he doesn't want to be touched, or because he doesn't want people to see someone touch his back. He wanted to move because he wanted to control the situation and protect Scott, and that's not his call to make. This is a matter of trusting him to know his limits and what he's comfortable with.

So he relaxes, and focuses on his loud conversation with Renny while staying aware of how he's reacting and why he's reacting that way.

"...no, dude, it was completely last-minute. We had this entire typical injury promo planned, but on Thursday I had an epiphany while talking to Kev. He helped me flesh out some of the logistics and gave his approval and on Friday we had a rough plan."

Snacks is half-turned to do a shot with Tim, hand still resting on Mitch's back. He's laughing at something Tim's just said. Everything around them is...normal. People are talking and drinking and laughing. There's no reason to think he needs to take control and play protector right now.

"...actually Scott's is the only one we scripted out. I only had some general points I wanted to touch on, and of course our cue lines." Some of the other partygoers are leaning in to hear the conversation. "I made sure I had the Punk quote memorized so I didn't fuck that up, but everything else was off the cuff."

Snacks' attention returns and he slightly increases the pressure of his hand, a hello or a good job or just a minuscule replica of a hug.

"...ask him! Ask him how much he knew before he went out there!"

"Not a fucking thing!" Snacks laughs. "He wouldn't tell me anything but the cue lines and that it was a work no matter how it sounded." He gestures as he speaks, but the hand returns when he calms. "I figured it might be harsh but I didn't expect to want to cry in front of like eight hundred people!"