Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Axl paused in front of the door, hand pressed against its chilled surface, his stomach twisted in knots. He shouldn't be here. His presence was just going to make everything worse for everyone else in that room, himself included. It was.

But he has to go somewhere.

Years of just letting everything eat him alive finally pushed him to the edge. He needed help, needed it. Even if he felt like a fucking dumbass and embarrassed and like he'd rather be buried thirty feet deep than anywhere near that place. He'd finally decided to be an adult, for once in his goddamn life , and that means getting help.

He pushes the door open, pushing through all his nerves along with it. The sound of fabric moving against chairs makes him flinch, but when he meets the eyes of everyone inside he settles again. If any of them recognized Axl, none of them seemed to mind, just greeting him with silent smiles and none of the disdain he'd gotten so used to.

Well, none of them except one. It takes him a second to realize where he knows the other man from and why he's almost scowling. And then it hit. And he's fucking mad about it.

Of all the gin joints in all the goddamn world, he just had to choose the support group with Jon Bon fucking Jovi in it. He almost didn't recognize the bastard, after he'd gotten used to the other man having shorter hair, but it was unmistakably him.

But it wasn't like Axl could just walk out. He'd already been seen, he'd already forced himself to push through all the nerves. And he can't just fucking let Jon win!

Because that's a normal fucking thing for an adult to think. Yeah.

So he sits down in the circle, just a few chairs off from being straight in front of the other singer. His promise to himself to actually start being an adult could only hold so strong. A little petty was bound to slip through.

Jon wasn't any happier seeing the redhead turn up. The one place he shouldn't have to deal with any shit like that. And it had just walked in and sat down across from him. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

They both watched opposite walls while the chair explained that, since there were so many new people, it felt like a good idea for everyone to introduce themselves and say a little about why they came to the meeting. To their comfort, of course.

Axl sighed in relief when he realized he didn't have to go first. He wasn't last, but he definitely wasn't first. That was something. His gaze followed the talking people around the room, dreading it getting closer and closer to Jon. He nearly prayed, for the first time in fucking years, he nearly prayed that the other man would decide not to say anything. Axl knew he'd feel like an ass if he did.

But, of course, he couldn't be so lucky.

"I'm Jon." He paused, waiting for the chorus of "hi" and the echo of his name. The brunette fixed his eyes on Axl, as intense as he could without it seeming weird. "I was sexually abused by my father from the time I was six until I was fifteen. Then, I was dirty because he caught me kissing someone behind my school, and he wouldn't touch me again at all, until I was twenty-four. Because he could get something from me again. Always said if I told anyone, it would ruin me. It would tank my career… and everyone would know I was dirty and broken and unlovable. And I believed 'im 'til about a month ago.

"Uh… I don't know if my mom ever knew what was goin' on. She'd have it out with him over just about anything, even if it's stupid and doesn't matter, it can still turn into full-blown screaming matches. So I hope she doesn't know. Because if she did, and she never said anything I'd-" He sighs and shakes his head. Even the thought of saying that makes him sick. "It would destroy me. No real question about it."

Jon waves away any more time. He was having a bad fucking say before Axl came in, now the idea of saying anything else just makes it worse.

Axl looked off, fixing his gaze on the clock ahead of him. His face was already hot from everything he'd heard. The eye contact was only making things worse. Maybe he shouldn't even say anything.

But then what was even the fucking point? He could've just stayed home if he was just gonna stay quiet. Again.

So he waited for his turn. Digging his nails into his palm, pushing until his hand shook, then pushed some more. The pain made his jaw clench.

What was he even supposed to say?

Sure, he'd talked about it all before. But never in detail. Because that would make it real.

What should he even call himself? He has half a mind to just introduce himself as Bill or William or something other than Axl. At least then, the weight of his stupid fucking persona he'd had for decades would be one less thing for him or worry about. But that wouldn't be right.

Because he wasn't Bill.

And he hadn't been anyone other than Axl in years. Not since he got hurt in the first damn place. So Axl.

The voice was getting closer.

Oh. It was almost his turn. Fuck. Now he actually has to talk. He gives his hand one last squeeze, before he relaxes and shoves both of them in his pockets. "I'm Axl."

"Hi, Axl."

He steadies himself with one more deep breath, then fixes Jon with the same, intense eye contact, because that support group had somehow turned into a pissing contest and Axl Rose doesn't lose.

"My biological father sexually abused me, starting I-don't-know-when, until he fff- disappeared and died in a ditch when I was about two." Axl sighed. That much was easy to get out - the stuff he'd already shouted to the whole world. It was the rest of him that was eating him alive to have to say out loud. "Then, from about eleven-ish until I ran away when I was almost eighteen, my stepfather would sexually assault my little sister and block me in the room to make me watch.

"A lot of times, he would literally drag her into the room, when I was alone. And then he'd close the door, an' get in front of it and assault her there so there wasn't a chance either of us could leave. Sometimes, guess when he got real pissed off or drunk or something, he wouldn't just stop there. He'd actually threaten to hit her if I wouldn't back up into a corner like he wanted. And they weren't empty threats, either. He'd do it if I made 'im. So, I- I'd do what he told me to, and then he'd back me into the corner and make me watch from there.

"And my mother knew. About both, actually, pretty much the whole time and she never said anything, she never did anything. The one time I actually got the courage to go to the cops, she lied directly to their faces and gave me that first little black mark on my record."

Axl stopped when the words finally stopped coming. He didn't exactly feel good - that definitely wasn't the word for it - but he was only half as nauseous as he'd been expecting. That was something.

He gives the little hand wave that almost everyone else seemed to when they were done talking and looks down at his lap for a second. Anything to give him a break from the relentless eye contact with Jon. Even if he'd started it that time, it still drained the little energy he had after struggling through all his stress and nerves.

Jon quickly directs his gaze to the next person, softening his face when Axl left his sight. He'd completely shut down once the redhead gave the first set of ages. The thought just made him too sick, he can't help that. So he managed to keep his frustration at everything intact. He couldn't just let that asshole ruin the one place he had away from all the other bullshit he had to deal with.

But he could be civil, if for no other reason than because he had to, given the circumstance. So he waited until everyone had finished talking and the meeting was over, then ducked out of the door just a few steps behind the redhead. He tells himself that he's going to be nice. Not that that's held much weight for the last decade and a half.

Axl was just going to ignore the jackass following him down the hall, until he's suddenly up against a wall with an arm across his collarbone.

He snaps quick. Tangles their limbs together and throws his weight until he feels in control. Then all he wants to do is break Jon Bon Jovi's stupid fucking nose.

It isn't even fear, there's not a drop of the stuff in his body. It's the only thing more familiar for him. Rage. Pure and unadulterated, if nothing else because of the fucking audacity it took for the other man to be the angry one of them. And all he wants is to see the color of his rage running down Jon's stupid, smug fucking face.

A couple days ago, at any other place, he would've done it, too. Just let loose and turned the other man's face into a mess of red and purple and yellow and blood.

But he can't do that.

Jon fists a hand in the redhead's shirt, struggling to keep himself up when he stumbles back. His gaze darts like a wild animal, trying to catch any strike before it can land. Once his heartbeat slows, his attention falls to Axl's face. All rage and violence and hatred

and beauty.

"Mind telling me what the hell you think you're doing, Jonny?"

The cold demand thankfully snapped him away from that horrifying thought. "What the fuck are you doing here."

It was a challenge. Like a dog growling at someone coming near his territory. Whatever explanation the redhead had didn't matter. Axl was on Jon's turf, where he didn't fucking belong, and he needed the message to stay the fuck away.

"What? You didn't listen? God, you're a bigger dick than I thought you'd be. Violent, self-absorbed, completely incapable of-"

"Shut up." Jon growls the words, his eyes squinted in anger. His weight falls heavier against Axl's chest, trying to get some of his power back. "You shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, I should." Axl wanted to say more, and louder and crueler, but he held back. If Jon wanted a scene, he could make it himself.

"I don't mean in some kind of group. Honestly, I think it would've been best if you'd spent the past twenty years in a fucking padded room. You just shouldn't be here. There's gotta be at least thirty other groups like this in L.A., why the fuck did you pick this one? You could go literally anywhere else!" A little irrational part of his brain told Jon that Axl somehow did it on purpose. Somehow found out exactly where he lived and all that shit about him, and showed up there just to torment the brunette. And it was fucking batshit, but his scattered brain needed something to hang onto so it would stop bouncing around from half-thought to half-thought.

"This was the closest one to my house." He shrugs and stares Jon down. Axl has to admit, the other man is pretty, even if he'd rather off himself than ever let him know that.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Nope. I'll fuckin' show you my address if you want. Maybe we can pick this whole thing back up at my place later." Axl's gaze darted down the other man's body, checking him out just as much as he was just trying to make Jon uncomfortable.

"No, it's-" Jon backed up as much as he could with the redhead's leg still around his. "Fine. Fine!" He threw his hands in the air. "Keep fucking coming. Fuck up the one fuckin' thing for me that hadn't gone to shit yet."

The brunette forced himself to untangle from Axl. The only thing he could do to keep his anger from coming out again was grit his teeth and growl "Go fuck yourself," before he turned and walked out the front doors.

What the fuck just happened?

Axl flattened down his shirt with his hands. He watched Jon walk out to his car, only finally turning his attention elsewhere when the other man was completely out of the parking lot. Even then, his heart was still racing from the whole encounter. The sudden physical aggression from Jon, just about the only person he never expected that from, did something to him that he didn't like.

Some of it was just nerves, at the actual incident and the idea of having to spend another day locked in a room with Jon. But that wasn't the only thing. It was something fucking primal , that felt different than lust in his gut, but the result was the same in the way it left him breathless and pushing against his pants. The last person he ever wanted to get that feeling out of him, and Axl was sure the other man didn't even know he did it.

He forced himself to shake off his surprise and walk out to his car. Next Wednesday was gonna be a fucking trip, wasn't it?

Chapter Text

Jon jumped when someone knocked on his window, interrupting his sulking. The sight of Axl Rose, the one fucking person he was praying he could somehow avoid, just set him off. He looked up at the other man. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Open your window."

"No! Jackass," he adds under his breath.

"I'll wait. You're either gonna have to get out or fuck off eventually. Either way, I get what I want." Axl shrugs and cocks his head. He just smiles when Jon turns up the radio and stares straight ahead of him. It really seems like the other man was hoping for it, but he wasn't bluffing. Sure, it's a little hot, but it isn't anything he can't deal with. Just enough to put a few beads of sweat on his forehead.

Huh. That gave Axl an idea. Something that definitely wouldn't get Jon to talk like he wanted, but it could give him something else. At the very least, it would make the other man squirm. He'd seen the flash in Jon's eyes when he'd pushed back during their argument; he knew exactly what that look meant and he was gonna use the hell out of it.

Axl stretched up on his toes and lifted the bottom of his shirt up high enough to wipe his face, uncovering most of his torso. He didn't exactly mean to show off his chest in the process, but he didn't mind, either. It was far from the first time he'd been practically half-naked in public.

Jon clenches his jaw. More than anything, he just wants a fucking cigarette, but he's about two weeks too late for that. He doesn't want to admit that it worked, but it did. And now he's frustrated in more ways than one, and all because of Axl fucking Rose, and that makes him want to scream. So he just rolls his eyes and cracks his window. Because if the redhead realized he really did have that effect on Jon, he would never live that down. He couldn't let himself. "If I roll this thing the rest of the way down, will you put a fucking shirt on?"

"I've got a shirt on." Axl shrugs and drops it, covering himself up. "Now keep up your end or I'm losin' the pants, too."

"Of all the places to make that fuckin' threat, you piece of-," Jon grumbled, hoping his window would just get stuck. But, of course, he couldn't be so fucking lucky. All he really wanted to do was drive off and get very, very drunk. And then Axl could gloat to himself and anyone he hadn't managed to scare off yet. Jon couldn't let that happen. So he waits for his window to roll down and plants an elbow on top when it does, to keep the redhead from getting too close. For a couple reasons. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Look." Axl plants his hand on the window and leans closer, putting himself as far in Jon's personal space as he can without it seeming weird from the outside. "I can't fuckin' stand you and you clearly can't fuckin' stand me, I get that. Honestly, I'd respect your balls if you weren't such a pain in my ass. But we're both fuckin' adults here, we've gotta find some way to get our shit together for one fuckin' hour and not be goddamn terrors, alright? We don't have ta talk, we don't gotta be friends, but we'd better figure something out for everyone else in there, alright? You can still hate me. Hell, if you wanna jump me in the hall again, that's fine by me. But I'm not playing that glaring, mean looks bullshit again."

The brunette dug his fingers into his steering wheel. Axl had a point. Admitting that nearly made Jon sick, but he did. Their bullshit wasn't anyone else's problem. "Yeah. Alright."

"Huh." Axl looked off for a second, suddenly having a very hard time keeping eye contact with the other man. "Y'know I really didn't think you'd agree that fast."

"Anything to get you the fuck away from my car."

"I can respect that. See you in a bit!" He hit the metal above Jon's window a couple times before turning and walking off.

"Fucking piece of shit."

~~~~~

Axl leans over the bathroom counter, grabbing the edge like it's his only fucking lifeline. Because it is his only fucking lifeline.

Most of his thoughts are drowned out by the blood rush in his ears, and his skin is burning. Red fucking hot. And there's something in his hands and between his fingers. Furry… no. Hairy. But there's not. Because it's all just cold, smooth tile and hot air. Not that the fact did anything to help his fear-rotted brain.

He knew he shouldn't have said anything. The voice at the back of his head told him not to, but he had something to prove or some other stupid shit like that.

Somatic trauma. Body memories. Because why shouldn't having shitty parents ruin every single part of you, instead of just wrecking your mind forever?

It was sensitive. He knew it was fucking sensitive, and he still talked like a dumbass! About his father's chest hair in his hands, and the carpet in his childhood home, and the taste that he can't get out of his fucking mouth.

His arm shakes while he goes for a handful of water. Axl gulps down the stuff as quick as he can, just pushing through when his throat tries to close up. It's fine. It's safe, now. They're long fucking gone. The reassurance doesn't do much, but it's enough to slow his breathing a little.

If he let himself think about it too much, he'd probably feel pathetic. Because, really, what else can he feel? What else can his situation be if not just plain fucking pathetic?

Axl splashes some water on his face, trying to soothe the heat still burning his skin. He pulls the neck of his shirt up to dry himself off, then turns off the water. Fuck, he wants a smoke.

Footsteps coming, getting closer to the bathroom door, make his heart spike. It's not him, Axl knows it's not, but that means nothing when he's already half way back to fight or flight. Especially not when he'd already not have to spend too much time in a small room than a stranger.

He slipped out of the bathroom door, hiding in his clothes as much as he could. Axl meant to just walk out and go home and get his shit sorted out to a crappy movie, he really did. But then he saw Jon in the hall on his own. And he did say he didn't have any problem with them pulling bullshit outside of the group.

Jon grunts when his back hits the wall. He grabs Axl's shirt, trying to find some way to throw the redhead off, but the knee between his legs and the solid weight against his chest keep him firmly in place.

"What the fuck is the issue now?" he demands, exasperated.

"Nothing! I just wanted to fuck with you," Axl admitted, smirking. He let go of Jon and turned to walk away, before throwing over his shoulder "See ya next week!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the brunette asked, knowing - and thankful - Axl couldn't hear him. "Fucking child."

Chapter Text

Jon folded his arms over his steering wheel and buried his face in them. Apparently shitty slashers didn't do a lot for nightmares - fucking Prowler - and neither did Axl fucking Rose. The redhead wasn't even anywhere near him, at least that he knew of, and he still managed to ruin Jon's fucking night. It was a sick kind of impressive.

He cranked up his radio, Twisted Sister, trying to keep himself awake. All the brunette needed was a couple more minutes, just to get his head on straight.

Axl downs more of his coffee, wondering just how long it takes for that stuff to kick in, when something catches his eye. Even just seeing the back of his head, Jon looks like shit. Or at least, like he feels like shit. Just something about the stoop of his shoulders. His head tips to the side and he just kind of… stands there. It makes him look like a creep, he fucking knows that, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? Sure his base instinct, believe it or not, is to go check on the other man to see if he's okay, damn Midwestern politeness. But something tells him Jon wouldn't want to see him, and he isn't too big on that deal, either.

Fuck.

The brunette jumps and bolts up straight when someone knocks on his window. "Jon?"

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

He rubbed his eyes while all his adrenaline drained out. God, why did Axl look so fucking happy. Made him sick.

"Go to hell, Rose."

Wow! You look like shit!

Axl bit his tongue and tried to hold back really any sort of reaction. He honestly hadn't expected any response at all and, being an adult about the whole thing, he really expected worse than that with what he'd pulled. "I deserved that," he started, swallowing his pride. "Can you roll down the window?"

"What the fuck do you want, this time?" Jon felt like he was baring his teeth, puffing up his tail. Trying to make himself seem bigger than he actually was, when he didn't have the energy to actually do anything, and against someone he wasn't sure couldn't kick his ass if it came down to it. Pathetic.

"Just wanna talk. Don't look like yer feelin' too good."

"Thanks, jackass." He turns up his radio, trying to shoo Axl off and drown out the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. It shouldn't be happening, doesn't make any sense, but something about challenging the redhead just set off his fight or flight. Someone his own damn age shouldn't have that effect on him - not like that! - but he can already feel his hands shaking and his mouth getting dry. He's really, truly fucking trapped in that car if anything happens. No way he can get over the console quick enough to save his ass.

Axl backed off as soon as he recognized that look in Jon's eye, tried to make his own face as soft as he could. Even if he'd never seen it on himself, he knew it. Just something to the glint of it, regardless of how flat the other man managed to keep his expression. He put his hands up and took another step back. There really wasn't anything as too much space right then, something he was almost glad to truly feel about Jon again. The redhead opened his mouth a couple times, trying to figure out how to smooth that situation over when words were as dangerous as they were just then.

"I'm not gonna touch you, okay?" That felt like a good place to start, given… well, everything. "Just give the word, and I'm gone. Won't even talk to you again if you don't want."

Jon almost said yes. He really did. If it didn't make him feel somehow even more pathetic, he probably would have. But that would mean he lost and he was in too bad a mood for that.

The brunette shook his head and rubbed the fear out of his eyes. He rolled down his window, rested an arm on it, and leaned out a little. Axl's 'surrender' didn't make him feel a whole lot better after the two different times the redhead completely shoved into his personal space. He'd do just about anything to keep that from happening again. Without the glass between them and still very close, Jon got the first good look at Axl in… Forever, really. And that just made his mood worse.

Axl looked almost identical to how he did twenty years ago, just maybe - impossibly - a little younger, with the way his cheeks had filled out a little and caught the light less harshly. He was still fucking beautiful and that just pissed Jon off. If nothing else, then because it was Axl Rose - of all fucking people Axl Rose - causing that weird, clenched-up feeling in his stomach.

"Just tell me what the hell you want," he finally sighed. There wasn't any point in putting things off and telling the redhead to fuck off would just make him feel weak. Once again, he was in a lose-lose situation that only fucked him over.

"You just didn't look like you were doin' too good. Wasn't sure if you just had a shit night a sleep or if you needed ta talk to someone."

"Why the fuck would I talk to you?" Jon snarled, before he could really stop himself. Once his nerve settled, he was just pissed. All he wanted was five minutes to himself and now he had a pain in his ass.

"Because I'm here." Axl cocked his head a little and shrugged. "Been told I'm a pretty good listener, too." He saw… something flare in Jon's eyes. It could've been anger or hatred or something else entirely - he almost hoped for that third option - but it didn't really matter what specifically it was, just that he was getting a rise. Childish.

But it was fun.

"I'm fine." Jon raised his eyebrows, just a touch. He was so used to the lie at that point, he didn't even stutter rattling it off to Axl. "Just got lost in a movie last night, didn't catch enough sleep. Now can you please fuck off and give me a minute?"

"Totally." Axl nodded. He was about to leave - really, he was - when something else hit him. "Look, no one else's seen me here, yet. I can just disappear for today, 'f you want."

Jon wasn't sure if he should feel like the luckiest man in the world, or pissed off that Axl was putting him in that situation. "It's fine, really. Just a few minutes, you won't even be able to tell."

"Alright." The redhead nodded again. He all but physically had to stop himself from pulling a Midwestern nightmare goodbye when he saw how closed-off Jon got. It didn't even feel like a snub, just how people from Jersey acted. Honestly, Axl kind of appreciated it. More his speed.

Axl hummed to himself, turned, and walked off.

Jon deflates as soon as he's alone again. His heart had stopped pounding, but he's still riding on adrenaline, sweaty palms and shaky hands and everything. He shouldn't be scared. He shouldn't be fucking scared, but none of that assurance does anything to settle his racing nerves.

Maybe it's just a bad day, he tells himself while he gets out of his car. Maybe it was just the nightmares, maybe it's not even about that. Any of that. Maybe.

Jon was very, very wrong.

~~~~~

He hadn't said a damn thing in the past god only knew how long, but Jon still feels more raw and on edge than he has in a long fucking time. All he really wanted to do, from the second his stomach dropped, was to just get in his car and drive off and feel like shit, alone, in the privacy of his empty fucking house, but now his hands are shaking too bad to get anything done, let alone not get in a flaming wreck.

Jon didn't even check to see if there was anyone behind him, he just needed to get out of that fucking room. His fingers sank into his hair, while he searched for anything - fucking anything - to ground himself in the future- Present! Fuck!

Axl frowned, watching how Jon rushed out of the room. Maybe no one else really noticed it, but he couldn't ignore the way the other man just completely disappeared. There was just something about the unshakable feeling that everyone was fucking staring at you. Nothing beat that into a person like what they did.

He scratched the back of his hand, then moved for his lighter. There wasn't anything on him to actually use it with, the redhead just needed something to do with his hands. Axl wasn't trying to sort out what to do, that time, he just had to settle his nerves before he went out to see someone in worse shape than he was.

Jon just couldn't get himself into the right century, no matter what he tried. Just can't shake the pressure of the massive hands pressing into his back, pinning him down to the wood floor. Unsee his little brothers' faces, watching with wide-eyed confusion because that's what they were supposed to do. Block out any of the cruel comments coming from above him, about how bloody stupid he was, to stop fucking crying. It was all his fault. He'd failed his math test. He should've done better.

Axl watched another few seconds, running his thumb over the bumpy part of his lighter and trying to figure out what the fuck he was gonna do. The redhead knew the only real option was to just go for it and be as gentle as he could, he just… needed a minute. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, keeping both of them where he was pretty sure Jon could see them, and got as close as he was comfortable.

"Jon?"

The brunette panics. That was real, that was fucking material! It's in the fucking room with him! It can't happen again it fucking can't

Pain shoots through Axl's face and he recoils with a hand over his nose. It's not the first time he's been punched - far from it - but it had been a while and Jon packed way harder than he would've expected. "Mother fucker," he hisses, his eyes watering. He isn't anything close to mad, it just hurts like a bitch til he can steady himself.

Axl swears a few more times under his breath before he manages to pull himself back together. His nose can wait til later, he's not the one in crisis. He puts a hand out but keeps his distance this time. "Hey, Ali, let's take it easy. I ain't gonna hurt you. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You want me ta leave, just nod your head and I'm gone."

Jon swallows. The voice is different. The brunette didn't realize at first, but it's just Axl. For once, that's actually a relief. He shakes his head, slowly. It isn't great, but he can't fucking do this alone. He'd made that very fucking clear already.

"Alright." Axl nodded and took a little step forward. The last thing he wanted to do was make the other man feel boxed in. Or get slugged again. "Can you come outside with me? Get you some fresh air?"

He nods. His mouth is too dry, words just won't work, but he needs to get the fuck out of there.

"Head down, keep movin', alright? I'm your bodyguard. You don't gotta talk ta anyone you don't want to." Axl wasn't sure if he should keep talking or not. Jon wasn't responding at all, but he didn't exactly seem annoyed, either. Catatonic was the closest word for it.

He squared up his shoulders and made himself as big as he could, trying to ward off attention and hide Jon, at least a little bit. Axl never really thought he was all that imposing and he definitely wasn't the biggest guy. Hell, Jon's shoulders were probably a little bigger than his. The other man looked about the same height as him, so the whole thing was just a bitch of a job. Especially trying to block that fucking cloud of hair. He wasn't Slash level, sure, but the guy could probably give Hammett a pretty hard run for his money. It was pretty impressive, honestly, because that looked pretty much all-natural, not a tease job or anything.

Not the fucking time.

The redhead opened the front door and let Jon out first, before following with a glance over his shoulder. "You wanna go sit in your car or somethin'? Just for a minute, get yer nerves settled. Get wanting ta be outta the open."

Jon sank down to the grass and shook his head. "No. N-No small-" His voice gave out, not that it was doing a great job to start with.

"Okay." Axl looked around a few times, his own nerves dangerously on edge, before he slowly settled on the ground, too. He wasn't sure if that was what the other man wanted or how close - or far - he should be, but he figured towering over Jon was about the worst thing he could do just then.

It didn't take too long for his hand to find his lighter again. Anything to keep him occupied while he played bodyguard for someone that looked like he could throw Axl. He couldn't stand the silence. Even with all the cars and birds and shit, it was all just still suffocating.

After what felt like forever, Jon ran his fingers through his hair again, finally feeling his nerves settle. His heart was still pounding like mad, but at least he was breathing right again. It took a second for him to realize where the hell he even was, with the whole… ordeal he'd just gone through. But the sound of the wind and cars and someone singing grounded him back pretty fast.

Wait.

Someone singing…

That's weird, right?

Jon folded his arms over his knees and peeked over them, almost embarrassed how red and raccoon-eyed he had to look. And then he was pissed at himself for letting Axl make him feel that way.

He leaned his head against the side of his arm, happy to just listen for a while. It was kind of nice after everything, just to be able to sit and listen and not have to worry about exactly how Axl was gonna throw that back in his face later.

The redhead didn't even realize he'd started singing until he noticed Jon looking at him from over his arms. "Oh, sorry, " he whispered, still trying to keep from drawing too much attention given their… situation.

"It's alright." Jon sniffs and rubs his eyes with a hand. "You don't gotta stop."

Axl gave a thin smile and put his hand up to sort of wave it all away. He just wanted to get home and go the fuck to sleep, not give a private concert for any asshole walking by.

Jon nodded a little at the rejection. Why did that hurt? "What was it?" he asked, trying to keep whatever the fuck that just was from showing on his face.

"Everlong. It was the Foo Fighters' first big song. Pretty much been stuck in my head for the past eight-ish years." The redhead shrugs. He can feel his heartbeat building up in his ears. Maybe Jon can't tell yet, but Axl can already feel the heat building through his face. Bad fucking news for a ginger trying to act like he's feeling anything other than what he is. Singing a fucking love song to him, of all people. Jesus Christ, he really has lost it.

"It's nice." Jon takes a few slow breathes. Axl's just so close. It isn't panic, anymore, it's something else. Something he's definitely felt before, just not about Axl. That's… That's all. "You don't have to stay. I'm alright."

Bullshit. Axl's ears get red, at least at the tips. He can feel it. Burning, sparking that fuse he's been trying to bury. He's not some kind of idiot, knows when someone's lying directly to his face. Maybe Jon fancies himself an 'actor', but that doesn't do shit when it comes to real life.

But he clenches a fist around his lighter and swallows down the heat bubbling up in his throat. He can deal with what all the fuck that was about later. "Look, I don't know what the fuck you're feeling or what the fuck you're going through, but you're obviously not 'alright.' What happened in your car earlier? You weren't 'just tired.' All of this wouldn't have happened if you were 'just tired' and you know that. You can tell me to fuck off, that's fine. You won't be the first person. But don't lie to me." Axl scoffs, trying to make it seem like he cares way less than that little thing inside of him is making him. "Lying just makes this shirt worse, you know that. Man, just tell me ta fuck off! It's that easy!"

Jon could feel his heart starting to race again when Axl started to raise his tone - just to a normal volume, but still. But the longer the redhead went on, he just started getting angry.

He sets his jaw and his eyes narrow. For once, some logic center sets off in his brain and he doesn't just flip out, but he definitely isn't about to just sit and take that shit. Especially from Axl fucking Rose! Of all Goddamn people. "Even if I am lying, what the fuck does it matter? It isn't like you can do shit to fix it! You aren't a shrink, I'm sure as hell not gonna let you get me drunk, it'd be easier for both of us if you could fuck off about it!"

Drop it.

Axl knows he should, but at this point, he just can't stand to lose. "Well you at least shouldn't have to stay alone tonight!"

His throat was suddenly very tight. And now he had to live with that. This is why you fucking drop things.

"What?" Jon's eyes get wide. Did he really give it away like that?

"Said something earlier about your wife being outta town with family or some shit. I get how much it can fuckin' suck when you're all raw, alone in the big-ass house with all the noises you can't put a name to." He practically spit about half of those words. There was still an edge to his voice, one that Axl couldn't dull. One wrong move and there was a good chance they were both a bout to be in some deep fucking shit.

Once his nerves gave way, the brunette was pretty much ready to flip. If he couldn't feel the voices getting closer to the front door - that was still just around a corner from them - he probably would have. "What the fuck makes you think I wanna spend my night with you?" He's almost baring teeth, his top lip wanted to raise so bad. Fucking Axl.

"You want me to go?" the redhead asked, rising quickly to his feet and halfway throwing his arms out like a ringmaster. "Fine! Fucking sit here in the grass like a pathetic loser, get your bullshit expensive pants dirty, and be miserable! See if I fucking care!" Axl's chest was heaving when he turned around and started to storm off.

Jon grits his teeth and watches Axl starting to walk away. There's no reason to go after him. The redhead's been nothing but a pain in his ass, everytime they've even come close to interacting!

But Axl was fucking right.

About the house. About the fact that Jon really doesn't want to have to put up with another night alone in that fucking house.

"Wait."

Axl stopped when he heard the - obviously very reluctant - call. Once Jon hadn't slapped him, he really hadn't expected anything past the blow-out. He definitely didn't want to spend his night like that, either, but he'd made the offer and he wasn't gonna be the pussy who backed down first.

The brunette almost sprinted to catch up. He waited to start talking again until he was right next to Axl, where the redhead could see him, so Jon could put on his best charmer act - touch his arm, use the smile, put on like a bartender hard-up for tips. "That offer still good?" Really, he was flirting. Harder than he had in a while. From what he'd heard, Axl was a little more… open to certain things than maybe a lot of people were and Jon needed whatever he could use to smoothe things over after that whole shitshow.

The redhead swallows and gives Jon as subtle a onceover he can manage. He's smart enough to know when someone's actually moving on him or when they're just working him over, but other parts of his body definitely aren't. "Course. Your place or mine?"

He can't help but push back a little. See how much Jon can take before he starts blushing like a good Catholic boy.

"Yours." Jon tries to match whatever the hell it is Axl's giving him. He's already hot and getting hotter - and trying to hide the desperation that wants to edge into his voice. God, that feeling in his chest makes him want to scream.

"Really?" Axl raised an eyebrow a little. He wasn't complaining, but after Jon kind of insisting on some kind of a wall between them, the redhead really would've expected him to want a homecourt advantage.

"What? You wouldn't be curious about how you lived? If you were anyone else?"

Bullshit. "Fair." But he kept his mouth shut that time. At least that time, Axl knew exactly why he was getting his 'no.' "So you wanna tail me there, or do you need a ride?" He raised his eyebrow and gestured towards his own car. Not that Jon didn't have something pretty expensive, too - at least from the look of it - but his was responsible. Kind of a less cool DB Mark 3. Something a very rich dad would drive: the kind of guy who has a pension and will probably retire before their kid graduates high school, not someone trying to make teen "slashers" work for them.

Maybe his gague was off, but Jon seemed more into actual sports cars. Or at least like he would be if he ever got a go in a really nice one. Something sleek and thin and fiery red that you can ramp up to a hundred with barely more than a thought.

Or maybe Axl was completely off. What the fuck did he know?

The brunette swallowed. It should've been an easy 'no,' but for some goddamn reason, he had to convince himself! Christ! "No thanks. Think I'd rather have my own getaway ride if we've got another outburst."

Axl bit back the worse retort he really wanted to shoot back and nodded. "Yeah, can't imagine I'd be all that big on being stranded at your place, either. Come on." He started for his car, ignoring whatever the other man was doing. "Don't worry, I'll watch my speed. Make sure your engine can keep up."

Jon tenses his jaw, but he keeps quiet. He gets settled in his car around the same time as the redhead, then fucking floors it out of the parking lot. The breaks only squeal when he's at the stop sign a few blocks down and Axl's just barely peeling out into the street.

Okay, maybe he does know a little about good cars. Axl nods a little to himself in recognition while he pulls up next to Jon. If he didn't know how bad stupid-driving wrecks like that can be, he knows he would pull the same shit. Maybe the brunette has a better set-up than he though, but he knows his car. He could smoke that thing in a second if he wanted to.

And that's definitely the only thing on his mind, while he does his best to keep his attention split between Jon behind him and the road ahead. Not how what they're doing definitely looks to anyone from the outside. Not how fucking stupid of an idea it was on both of their ends. Definitely not the way Axl knows he's caught Jon looking at him when his head's on straight.

Definitely.

~~~~~

"Look, I don't wanna start things off on a bad note, but we're not gonna be snipping at each other the whole time, right? Because I can just get the fuck home if that's how things are gonna shake out." Against his instincts, Jon kept his hands in his pockets, looking around the living room. He tried to keep his voice conversational, like this wasn't the most horrifying thing he'd ever done.

"Hey!" Axl objected. He didn't actually care, he just liked seeing the other man panic. "I can be perfectly lovely when I want to."

That non-answer definitely doesn't make Jon nervous. At all. "The fourteen years without an album puttin' a strain on things?" he asks, sort of gesturing to the size of the living room. He'd bought his massive nightmare house pretty much the second he got the first good check off Slippery When Wet, so it's one hell of a head trip to see someone from his old niche - who he'd almost convinced himself was more successful - in a house that size. Not that it isn't also big, it just doesn't exactly scream famous rockstar brat.

"Nope. This place is all covered with Use Your Illusion money." Axl didn't let that dig get to him. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it and Jon was way too obviously just trying to hurt him. North-easterners aren't great at passive aggression. Everyone always took it back when they say anything past that living room, anyway.

"Really? Still covers the bills?" The brunette raises an eyebrow. The whole act's really just his best impression of what his mom does when she wants an argument, not a fight.

"Yeah, man. We fuckin' beat out Garth Brooks and a ton of others for sales that year. Only acts we were behind were legacy acts, already music royalty, and fucking Nirvana. Hell, think they managed top fifty for the whole decade." Axl pauses for a second, lets it hit. He knows the only way Bon Jovi got even close to beating them was a fucking greatest hits album. Otherwise, they were miles off. But he can't just leave it at that, can he? "Besides, what's the issue with it? I never ran the group party house and even to keep up a constant stream of one-nighters, you only really need a couple bedrooms. I don't really see the problem, here. D'you?"

"Well, I-" What should he say?

"Exactly." The redhead gives his best charming, covert 'burn in hell' smile, before he starts back again, just as cheery as he had been. "Anyway, disks and tapes are by the TV, there's food n' booze in the kitchen, and there're about thirty-odd bedrooms, you'll stumble into one of them eventually. See you in the morning!"

That's how you do passive-aggression, cityboy.

"Hey! What the fuck happened to Midwestern politeness?"

"You can suck my dick, Bongiovi!"

Okay, maybe not like that.

That was never what it was about, anyway. He got his rise - and one hell of a Jersey accent yelling at him - so now Axl could go to bed happy.

As happy as he could be with Jon in his house, anyway.

The brunette stares in slack-jawed something while Axl disappears down a hallway. Jon has half a mind to be a smart ass, follow the redhead to his room, and try to get in bed with him, but he isn't quite that suicidal. Or desperate.

"Gonna empty your fridge. Teach you to abandon me." He knows he sounds like a damn child, but he's annoyed! At Axl for pulling that stunt, at himself for letting him, at-

Maybe he shouldn't think about that right now. At least he doesn't have to be alone tonight. Sure, it involves putting up with Axl longer than he'd ever intended, but he's got something. And that's… something. He's a little better on the page, or at least when he's not wound up to all hell.

Jon doesn't even feel all that hungry, really. He probably should eat and he knows how bad he can get about it - and Axl did offer -, but he just can't imagine his stomach getting untwisted enough to make that work. All he really wants is to put on something scary or mildly traumatic - very least bloody - and get the fuck to sleep.

If he's lucky, maybe he'll even be up before Axl and not have to see him at all. That sounds good.

Chapter Text

Jon rubs his eyes, then stares at the wall ahead of him. Who the hell did he fuck to wind up there?

And what the fuck was it gonna cost for him to keep all this private?

Oh fuck.

A sharp pain through his skull when he tries to turn onto his back almost stops him dead. Right. That.

He's never been more happy to wake up almost fully clothed than right now. He'd like to think he would never be that desperate, but the past few months showed him how big of a lie that would be.

He rolled up his sleeve to check the time. 6:15. That was pretty early. Maybe he was making assumptions, but Axl didn't seem like the type to be up that early. As long as he was quiet, Jon could get out of there. Easy, right?

Right?

The brunette pulled on the rest of his clothes and slipped out the door. There was no way Axl was up that early. No way.

Axl's been up for an hour and a half, fighting with the bruise on his nose and downing coffee to maybe fix the massive headache he couldn't put a reason to. None of it did anything with the sense of impending doom in his stomach, but maybe it was just one of those days.

The footsteps squeaking to a stop in front of him would disagree with that.

Right. Him.

"Oh. Good morning." He was still trying to act casual, like Jon Bon Jovi wasn't standing in his kitchen, because he's a dumbass. Of all the times to grow a conscience.

"I- Morning." Jon swore he could feel his heart stop. He almost didn't even notice the other man was shirtless. Almost.

"You didn't think I was gonna be up, did ya?" Axl raised his eyebrows and smirked.

The brunette shakes his head. Idiot.

"Aw. C'mon, Jonny. What kinda slacker d'ya think I am?" Jon almost blushed. And, all things considered, that was pretty damn impressive.

"I-I-" He shakes his head again, trying to ground himself again. Then- "Holy fuck, your face!"

"Thanks." Axl laughed a little. He'd definitely heard that - at least, variations of it - in the past, but he'd always looked a little worse when it happened.

"Does that hurt? Cuz that looks-"

Axl puts out a hand and leans back some when Jon makes another move at him. "Relax, prettyboy. Don't gotta get that close." It was too early for that shit. Way too early.

"Shit, man. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean- I- Christ. 'M sorry."

And suddenly Jon looks really fucking small. Really small. And his eyes are almost glued to the floor and Axl has a sneaking suspicion he's gonna get slugged again. "Relax, dude. I shoulda known better than getting in swingin' range. 'Sides, this ain't the first time I've been punched. Got a good arm on you, give you that much, pretty impressive. But it's not an issue. Really."

Jon sets his jaw and tries to steady himself. "Really?" He's not sure if he's pleading or skeptical. It just feels like Axl's blowing smoke up his ass for some reason.

"Yeah, really. I've been enough of a jackass, anyway. Probly had this comin' somehow." Axl shrugs. Actually, when he sits down to think about it, he's real pissed, but that's a vanity issue over anything else. Not like he couldn't hide it, anyway. Wouldn't be the first shiner nobody realized he even had.

"I-I mean still, I'm-"

"Apologize to me one more time and we're gonna match, dude." The redhead gestured to his nose. It wasn't a serious threat - not too serious, anyway - but he just needed the fucking repentance to stop. He wasn't a fucking priest for God's sake.

Jon nods, ignoring the quick flash of panic that hit. It was just a joke. "Understood."

Axl bit back the urge to tell the other man to get the fuck out of his house. It felt like something that wouldn't hit too bad for someone with a state with Jersey's general everything. But he was raised better than that, so he just settled for promising himself he wouldn't fall into the Midwestern goodbye bullshit he had such a hard time turning off with most people.

"You want me ta piss off?" the brunette asked. Part of him was getting a kick out of making Axl uncomfortable, but he just couldn't stand it anymore. Everything else aside, the whole situation was just too familiar with someone whose birthday he didn't even know.

"Well if you wouldn't mind, sugar." Axl cocked his head and smiled, way more friendly than he actually meant. It was just too much fun watching Jon's eyes get a little wider and his breath hitch and something spark in that sweet Catholic chest of his. The guy was in a band with one of the biggest manwhores of all time and he still looked like a kid in sex ed whenever he got flirted with. Too good to pass up.

"You know, I can't imagine anything I'd rather do right now." Jon waved a little before he turned around and got the fuck outta there.

Axl relaxed when his front door finally shut. "And stay out!"

~~~~~

Jon sighed when he realized what he was doing for the third time in about five minutes. He could tell himself he was just buying a record all he wanted. When he could feel his heart racing like that, it just wasn't all that convincing.

Thank God it was gonna be a quick in and out, and he went to that record shop enough no one was gonna hold him up. He knew what he was looking for, he knew the album cover - the thing had filled half a shelf a while back when it started picking up steam -, he just had to actually work up the balls to get out of his car.

The brunette made his way to the alternative section - something he was a little less familiar with than he would like to admit - and picked out the CD.

And suddenly, he felt very self conscious about just buying the one, almost decade-old album. No one was gonna think anything of it, but he would know and it would eat at him every time he saw Axl's stupid, smug face. Even if he never found out.

Jon looked over the racks and racks of CDs and vinyls. A little stone dropped in his stomach when he realized how few of the band names he recognized. The only things he caught were acts that had been around for at least a decade or were completely unavoidable - Green Day, Nirvana, their crowd. Hell, some of those other artists could've been around for longer and he wouldn't have a clue, he hadn't really heard of the fucking Foo Fighters. That didn't feel great.

Then an album cover caught his eye: a purple-orange gradient with My Chemical Romance across the middle. Jon remembered Richie going on about them a couple years back, when they were waiting for Bounce to go public. He was… not paying a whole lot of attention - like an asshole - but Richie sounded excited enough. All he really remembered was they were from Jersey, and that album had a real stupid name. Pretty much like the one he was looking at.

He grabbed the album, and the follow up next to it that must've come out some time in the past few years. It seemed like they'd gotten a better handle on the title thing by then, even if it was still a little long.

Actually, when he really thought about it, Jon hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to any music Richie talked about in… Well, way longer than he would admit. Nothing he didn't already listen to, anyway.

He talks so much game about getting better and still manages to completely fail the person who talked him into fixing his shit in the first place. Great.

Jon shakes his head. It's not the time to dwell on any of that. And if there was ever a time to start actually patching things up…

The past decade and change of conversations he pretended to pay attention to was fuzzy, but the brunette managed to pull out a couple names he'd told himself to look into enough to lie about in the past. Other than the Foo Fighters, who he could already check off the list.

Stone Sour, Avenged Sevenfold, Green Day, Franz Ferdinand.

That definitely wasn't all of them, but it was a start.

He picks out a couple, less threatening looking Green Day albums - something that doesn't make him feel fantastic -, Nimrod and Warning. The only covers that didn't feel too overwhelming or like it had something too intense to prove. Then onto Franz Ferdinand. Jon only really remembers Richie talking about a self-titled and since they're not from the same turf, he doesn't go for the second album with the flapper girl. Maybe later.

The other two aren't anywhere to be found in the alternative section. Maybe that's for the best - all the new band names were starting to make him feel a little old.

Jon's a little more filled in on the hard rock section, something that maybe helps him pick out the Stone Sour album and City of Evil. The title makes his heart skip a beat, but the horrified look he can imagine on his father's face makes it worth it.

He still can't shake how weird he feels with that Foo Fighters disc in his hand. Sure, Richie recommended it to him ages ago, but Jon knows that's not why he has it now. Maybe he just needs a few more minutes. Another lie, but one that settles his stomach a little

The brunette figured he should stay in the hard rock section, the one place he didn't feel out of his depth anymore. Sad, wasn't it?

Jon forgot, sometimes, how much he really did like being around music and the crowd it brought in. The… ordeal that was their last few albums kind of beat the kid in a candy store love he had for it out of him. But being surrounded by all the albums and the hum of Pink Floyd from the speakers up in the ceiling and people whisper-arguing about music from all sides sparked it back up.

He felt, unbelievably, drawn over to the row of Poison albums off to the side. Almost twenty years since he last checked in on them, and they'd just gotten five more albums out and the dates on the back made it clear they probably dropped off the face of the earth a few years back. He knew Bon Jovi's output was completely impossible for most people, but sometimes it still hit him how much other bands just couldn't keep up. He wasn't sure if he should be proud of that or not.

Probably not.

He also wasn't too sure how to feel about how curious he was about whatever the hell they turned into in the 90s. Especially seeing how everyone else wound up when grunge took over.

Jon never bought into how awful other people said they were - Deville was a pretty damn good guitarist, at least enough to keep up with Richie, and they did have some solid ideas - he just never fell for them the way their fans seemed to, either. Way too many weak spots when they had to compete with mid-80s Mötley Crüe and Aerosmith and the like. But he'd already blown twenty bucks on them back when they were bigger, what was another on their most promising looking new-ish albums: Flesh & Blood and Native Tongue. The titles felt a little off, but they never really got that down, anyway.

He wasn't as interested in whatever happened to the rest of the hair crowd that hadn't transitioned in when it took over then got out when Nirvana happened; no one else really seemed to have the same potential. Warrant was fine, Quiet Riot had something that they pretty much blew on the second album, Crüe went out with their "grunge-inspired" whimper when it was too late for a bang, Guns N' Roses… well, was Guns N' Roses. Everyone knew how the early 90s treated them - pretty damn well - and the radio silence for almost fifteen years.

Somehow, Poison was one of the only ones from their old scene that could've come out pretty good on the other side. Spooky.

His nine-album take felt good enough, and he was just about to go check out when something else caught his eye: a mostly white album cover with a red burst behind the black silhouette of a woman. Velvet Revolver, Contraband.

Jon decides to make it ten and takes his hoard up to the counter. He suddenly feels a lot better about that whole Foo Fighters thing.

~~~~~

Axl didn't let himself dwell too long on anything that had happened earlier, he had way too much shit to do. He tamed most of the ache from his nose, got mostly dressed, and went to work.

If anyone ever told him how much fucking labor doing an album as the main creative was, he might've been less of a bitch. Six tracks were, mercifully, completely done - mixed, mastered, the whole nine - and another one or two were mostly finished. It was just all the hard ones he had barely formed ideas for he hadn't made any headway in.

Great.

He grabs his third lyric book from just this stupid project, collapses on his couch, and forces himself to start writing. It doesn't have to be good - some of it's definitely gonna suck when he goes back to read over it - but if Axl doesn't get any of this out, he's gonna scream. It just has to be there.

Axl just feels some mix of too raw and too closed off to do any of it justice, but he needs some way to get his mind off the chaos he's sure is coming next week. Once Jon gets his head on straight, the redhead's sure he's gonna be a terror about things; at least his disappearing act last night.

Flipping past a few drafts he didn't think were worth shit sparked something in Axl's chest. He had a distinct feeling whatever he got down was gonna suck, too, but at least it was forward motion. Something a good handful of those songs hadn't had in months - at a minimum. Everything that was holding him up just hit too close or was too personal or some other emotional crap that he just couldn't bulldoze through. All the angry stuff - and everything else - came out fine, it was just the stuff he should probably actually face.

He hummed absentmindedly while he worked - or tried to -, trying to nail down some kind of a melody that he could wrestle into being actually listenable later. If these fucking lyrics ever got finished, of course. Because that had been a hell of a struggle for years at that point.

None of it feels right, Axl finally admits after a while of scribbling things down and scratching most of it out. Most of his ideas suck and all the ones that don't either don't play right the way he was going at them or hurt too much to touch or just feel too far off for him to actually do them any justice. And it fucking sucks, not being able to get any of this shit that's been ruining his fucking life out into the air. Which was half the point of this dumb fucking thing in the first place!

Fuck!

Maybe it was just a bad time to work on the words of it all. The kind of stuff he definitely wasn't ready to deal with on a record was too fresh to get past that to anything else.

It was probably for the best, anyway. There was still so much other shit he had to do, getting instrumentals and their demos ready.

At least five more tracks.

Good God, it was gonna be a long fucking day.

~~~~~

Jon huffed and hung his head down. He wasn't sure if he was more frustrated over what he was doing or the fact that he sucked at it.

By that point, he got how to make the riff work - and that it wasn't standard, even if that took him just… way too long to realize. He just wasn't good at making it actually come out of his own guitar.

Everlong was firmly stuck in his head, and it had been since he first listened to it, even when he put The Colour and the Shape away and tried to move on to something else.

So of course the logical way to spend his past couple hours was trying to figure out how to play this song, that he'd only heard any part of yesterday, because he was very happy with the way his life was going right then.

He jumps when his phone rings. "Hello?"

"Hey! Where the fuck've you been?"

Jon's heart slows down the second he recognizes his friend's voice. "Oh. Hey, Rich."

"Don't you fuckin' 'hey Rich' me. You didn't call me last night, I was worried sick about you!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really!"

"That's why you didn't call me til-" He looks down to check his watch- "seven twenty?"

"Oh, yeah. I calmed down, figured you got laid, n' passed out." Jon swore he could hear Richie shrugging.

"Oh come on!"

"'Come on' what? You got your slut pass back forever ago!"

Jon sighs, and his heart squeezes a little in his chest. "It's just been a few months."

Richie's voice was a whole lot more gentle when he started talking again. "Jonny, I'm pretty sure we're past the point of it being just a few months. Look, man, obviously I don't get what you're goin' through, but you can't just live the rest a your life on pause cuzza this. At some point, you're gonna have ta give up the monk thing and start livin' again. If for no other reason, than I'm gonna start dragging you ta all the stupid parties I go to, like it or not.

"I just need some time."

"You've had time!" Jon was about thirty seconds from just hanging up. He was so fucking sick of no one understanding what he was going through. "Look, let's try something, alright? Some time in the next… five weeks, get with someone. Go on a date, fuck 'em, I don't care, just go for it. You hate it, just tell me n' I'll drop this whole thing."

"Richie-"

"Come on! If it sucks, it's just one night. Afternoon, even!"

"Seriously, man, I don't-"

"And if you don't do it, you're gonna be wastin' a whole lot more time with a whole lotta drunk people."

That was bullshit, right? Jon was a grown man for Christ's sake! And he was pretty damn sure he was still too big for Rich to drag him around but- "Fine."

"Really?"

"If it'll get you off my fuckin' back, then yeah. 'Sides I-" Oh, God.

Jon's eyes go wide. "What? Already got someone in mind?"

"No! I-I mean, no." That was unnatural, whatever little flicker of an awful idea just hit him. He was a rockstar, that was all. It wouldn't be an issue to pick someone up. "Just… Dunno. Maybe you're right. Might spend too much time locked up in here."

"Uh-huh." Richie didn't buy a damn word of that, did he? "If you don't have your eye on anyone, why don't you let me help? You have been outta the game for a while."

Jon shook his head. He couldn't admit to either of them-

There's not anything to admit! He's just shy… for the first time in decades. He suddenly wants something to do with his hands.

"I think I'll be alright," he lies, chuckling, and moves his phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands are back on his guitar as soon as he finishes, fingers easily finding their place on the neck. "Not like I haven't managed on my own before." Jon glances at the pick he tossed on his coffee table and decides to leave it - too loud.

"So we got way off track, why the hell didn't you call last night? Obviously you can do whatever the hell you want, it's just weird."

"Uh…" Jon trails off, trying to figure out exactly what lie he can tell without giving himself away. "Things got kinda sensitive. I mean, no shit, but- I was just so tired when I got home I don't think I was even thinking. Just got in bed and passed out 'til about an hour ago."

"Shit, man, that's rough. Feelin' alright now?"

"Mostly. Still got this lingering headache I can't get rid of, but it's not that bad anymore."

"Can't catch a break, huh?" Richie laughed a little. "Rose giving you problems?"

Jon's strumming hand stutters for a beat. That run wasn't going very well, anyway. "Not really. Least not coming from him, he's just obnoxious. Probly just stress or something." He shrugs. He hopes it's just stress.

"Mhm. What're you listenin' to? Sounds kinda familiar."

Well crap. He thought he'd been quieter than that. "Nothin'. Stopped by the record shop by my place after I got caffeinated, picked some stuff up. Figured I should actually do something with my time an' play some of it, now some of this Foo fighters stuff is kickin' my ass."

"Dave Grohl's a killer, isn't 'e?" Richie's smile shone through his voice.

"You're telling me," Jon said, smiling back.

"You're gonna have ta show me your disc collection soon. Thing's gotta be bigger than mine at this point."

"Just give me a time, man. It's been way too long since I saw you in person not about ta rip your hair out."

"Any time you'll have me. Long as you don't make me do any work." Jon's chest gets a little tight. He knew he would have to reckon with everything eventually, but it still hurts realizing what he'd turned into:

Axl Rose, his worst fucking nightmare.

"Promise." He nods. Like Richie can actually see him. Dumbass. "You wanna come over now? If you've got the time."

"Totally! Just, y'know, let me get some clothes on, first."

"See you in a bit!"

Chapter Text

Jon was a mess of nerves and something that felt a lot like afterglow when he pulled up. Things felt right - with Richie, at least - for the first time in years. They actually talked the other night. He couldn't remember the last time that happened. They'd listened to the Poison albums and half the Foo Fighters and went unconscious on his couch. It felt really good.

On the other hand, that stupid date ultimatum was hanging over his head. He didn't wanna ask anyone out. He didn't want anyone to know about his situation. And he really didn't want to go through with the stupid idea he'd come up with.

But it was the best shot he had to get out of this sort of unscathed - and keep Axl off his damn back after the week before. And he still kind of felt bad about what he did to the redhead's face, so this nightmare was, somehow, his best option.

God, it sucked.

Axl's fight response snaps to come out when Jon bumps him just outside the door. "Fight response". He really should stop calling it that. It's just the result of a lifetime of choosing violence at every turn where it'd work out for him.

His hand's still fisted in Jon's shirt before he can stop himself. The one time the dickhead decides to wear a t-shirt. Any other day his hand would've just hit Jon' chest and it would've been weird, but everything would've been fine. But now they're in this situation and the other man looks like he wants to bolt and Axl's gonna come off like the bad guy to anyone walking up on things. Great.

"Sorry." Axl let go and pulled his hand back. The apology almost burned through his veins, but it was easier than turning this into another scene. Three weeks in a row was more than enough. "Some idiot gave me coffee. I'm just a little jumpy."

The brunette smoothed his shirt down. Nervous force of habit. "It's fine. Shoulda known better than jumpin' you like that."

"Yeah. You should've." Axl only bothered biting down some of the vitriol in his voice. He was half sleep-deprived from a night of wrestling with the six tracks he couldn't get a handle on, but that wasn't all of it. Now that neither of them was running on adrenaline or the distinct feeling of fingerprints on their hips, he was starting to get a sour taste in his mouth again.

Jon already jumped him, he'd been nothing but a pain in his ass every single time Axl tried to get them to both act like adults, and Jon fucking slugged him. Maybe he'd walked into that one - fine - but the other shit wasn't his fault. And after all that crap, the bastard still managed to sweet talk Axl into being fucking kind to him.

He was fucking pissed. But he wasn't gonna make a scene. Didn't wanna take that from the motherfucker, too.

Jon did his best to pretend he didn't see the… what was it, fire?, hiding behind the redhead's stiff smile. He wasn't sure he deserved it, but he definitely wasn't against it enough to put himself in the way of the burn. "Could we talk? After, I mean. Figure we've already made enough of a scene this early, but there's something I've gotta ask you."

God god, that sounded like he was gonna start a fight. Idiot. Maybe he really did need help.

Axl rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles back. Something told him this had to be a set up. But he was in the mood for some good revenge. "Yeah, alright. Talk to you in a bit."

~~~~~

Jon had a nasty feeling in his stomach. The way Axl'd been looking at him for the past few hours made him uneasy. Maybe he asked for it, but it still set his guts on edge. He knew that look and it meant fighting.

Great fucking move. Getting right in the way of a speeding bullet train. Dumbass.

Axl waited til they were both out the doors to say anything. No one else needed to hear this.

"What'd you wanna talk about?" The redhead knew better than starting things. Fighting was Jon's idea, let him swing first, give Axl an easy way out.

The brunette swallows the anxiety building up in his chest. He asked for this. Nothing's gonna happen. "You like horror movies, right?"

It's such a stupid question Axl almost laughs. "What?"

Those weren't fighting words. As much as the heat still inside him wanted to twist them that way, they just weren't fighting words.

"Saw II's out on Friday. I'm gonna go if I can, theater on east tenth, and I figured I owe you for letting me stay over, so…" He shrugged. Axl still looked so completely shocked and it was starting to get to him.

"Are- Really?" Jon nodded. "Well if you really wanna make it up to me, how 'bout you just don't call the cops when I egg your house later." If this wasn't gonna turn into a fight, he had to get the violent energy out somehow.

"Come on. I know a guy, he can make sure we get tickets, whatever showing you want. Let's be real, here, it's the only real chance ta get in any time this month."

Jon watches the redhead cross his arms. His gut's still hoping Axl says no, leaving him with a clear conscience.

"Yeah. Sure, I'll go."

But he's never been a lucky man.

"Seven work for you?"

"Sounds good." Axl smiles. It's not the best way to spend a night, but there's no pressure for small talk and it'll push the whole total self-destruction thing back a couple hours. "I'll see you Friday."

"See you Friday," Jon grumbled. He watched the redhead walk away, trying to push down that knot in his stomach. Idiot.

Chapter Text

Jon wasn't taking things very well. He'd been ready since five, panicking since five thirty. He went out and bought three different packs of cigarettes. They all got crushed and binned as soon as he got home, because he was supposed to be better than that.

He shouldn't have gotten ready that quick. Was he even wearing the right thing? White Aerosmith shirt, jeans, black sneakers, and a teal-ish jacket. That was right, right? Casual enough it didn't look like a date - and Axl couldn't make any more stupid comments about his pants - but still something at least resembling put together. Maybe he should've just gone full slacker, but the little sliver of pride he had left just wouldn't let him. He couldn't just look passable. Something else he could thank his father for.

His cell went off. He almost screamed. Christ, he was wound up. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby. How's it going?" How the hell did Richie always manage to call at the worst fucking times? It was like some kind of gift.

"Lot better before you scared the hell outta me like that." Jon tried to laugh but his nerves just weren't cooperating.

"Sorry, sorry. I really do try not to, just too fun. Anyway, 'f your heart's back in rhythm, I thought we could go out for pizza or somethin'. Figured you like me again and I don't have shit else ta do." Rich chuckled.

Oh. Oh no.

"I- Actually, I-" Jon grabs a pen off the table and starts fidgeting. The whole point of this stupid thing was to clear his conscience about what Axl did for him and get Richie off his back. He knows that, but now that it's getting closer to time he just doesn't feel right about it. He can't tell if his issue is lying to Richie or even halfway treating this like a date or something else altogether. "I've got something else to do, actually. Sorry."

"You got a date?"

Fuck. He's just gotta push definites off until tomorrow. Maybe he can get his head on straight by then. "Not… exactly."

"What the hell's that mean, Jonny? You can't go on half a date with someone, that's not how it works."

"I know, I just-" Jon clicks his pen a couple more times. It's just a little fib. It shouldn't be all this hard to figure out. "I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing, y'know? A-And I'm not sure what she's feelin', either. Whole thing's so casual, too. Just gonna go see the new Saw. So maybe it'll be a date, maybe it won't. We'll see."

The silence didn't make him feel all that good about his acting skills. It feels believable enough and it's not a full-blown lie. Jon was just being a little… creative with the truth.

"Saw? Really, man? D'you want a date or do you want her ta never talk ta you again? Jesus, dude!" Jon could hear Richie wheezing from over the phone.

"She seemed into it, alright?"

"Yeah, cuz she probly thinks you're some kinda serial killer!"

"Shut up, will you? You're givin' me a headache." Maybe if Rich was right, Axl wouldn't be much of a problem anymore. That was his only upside.

"Sorry, sorry. I just didn't realize how out of practice you were at this. Thought you already knew snuff flicks were off the menu for date nights, my mistake."

"Look, I've made some dumb fuckin' choices, I swear this isn't one of 'em. Just let me work. If I screw this one too bad, then I'll start takin' crap, alright?"

"Deal, man. Let's just hope you don't get the cops called on ya."

"Whatever. Is the interrogation still going or can I go, now? I do still have a date. Or a whatever."

"Yeah, go for it. And I am proud of you." Jon smiled. That maybe made all the date bullshit at least a little bit worth it.

"Thanks. We can still go out tomorrow night or somethin'. Can't imagine I'll still be busy by then."

"Hey, you never know. I'll see you when I see you, alright?"

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye! And see if you can wake up with your pants off tomorrow, alright? For me." Rich hung up before Jon could get another word in. Maybe it was for the best. He didn't need to know there was absolutely zero chance of that happening. No way.

~~~~~

Axl wasn't sure how to feel about the… proposition from Wednesday. That was a good word for it. Whatever it really was. Because it couldn't be a date, like the little voice in head kept insisting it was.

The whole thing still felt like a setup. It was too perfect. Not in a dream come true sense, but the details of it were too clean. Nothing was ever clean with them.

This is how Dateline stories start.

That cheery little thought didn't stop Axl from actually grabbing clothes out of his closet instead of whatever was closest and smelled like it'd been washed within the week. Not for Jon's sake, but he was already expecting crap for the two days' worth of stubble he didn't give enough of a shit to get rid of and he was liable to snap at the wrong comment.

Dark, looser fitting jeans, dark gray t-shirt, a red-black plaid button up, and black Martens. He looked like he belonged on suicide watch, but it was also the least effort he could put in to looked cleaned up without making this look like anything other than what it was. Like a date.

He had half a mind to throw his hair up, too. Really nail home how little of a deal this was for him, especially seeing how nervous Jon was asking him; but he was already pushing looking homeless or like some kind of fucking hipster and he'd really rather kill himself.

If he hadn't put his contacts in earlier, he would've gone with glasses, too, but that was even more work so it was an absolute no. Would've just pushed the hipster thing, anyway.

As odd as the whole situation felt, it was all just a glorified favor, really. On both their ends. That's all it really could be. Axl gets paid back, Jon gets a clean conscience. And they both get to spend a very uncomfortable evening together. Great.

Axl would've just preferred the egging thing. But, hey, least he got to catch Saw.

~~~~~

The redhead's edge started creeping back in on the drive to the theater. Not to where it had been, but there was still something there. It was nice, what Jon did. Really. That was about the only thing keeping him from getting so intense again. But it still didn't undo everything else.

Jon jumped him. That's what that was. Axl didn't even come in hot! He was perfectly willing to just sit there and just pretend that everything was fine! Even if he didn't get hurt, it was still fucked!

Axl shook his head; it wasn't the time to deal with any of that. He just needed to keep his head off all this for a couple hours. Then he could hate Jon again. Easy. He punched up the volume on his radio. Piece of Me.

Funny joke.

That didn't stop him from letting the rest of the song play out. He still didn't have quite that much self control.

Music hums away in the background the rest of his drive: from Mötley Crüe through Whitesnake through a whole load of other bands he's sure he'd listened to half a lifetime ago, but completely forgot about somewhere along the line. A lot of them suck. That's probably why.

Axl checked the time when he pulled into a spot. Five minutes early. And it looked like he was earlier than Jon, since he couldn't see that stupid little whatever it was anywhere in the parking lot. Maybe he should've put his hair up if he was gonna be early like some kinda precious little-

He hits the steering wheel. It doesn't matter.

It doesn't fucking matter!

But for some fucking reason he's just so caught up in the idea of coming off a certain way, like it actually matters what Jon thinks about him. What anyone thinks! Jesus!

Axl propped his elbows up on the steering wheel and put his head in his hands. Christ, what was wrong with him?

Jon was… way later than he should've been. Not that it actually mattered, but it was still another little nerve he hadn't gotten a handle on yet. It really didn't help when he managed to pull up right next to Axl. Who beat him there.

Axl beat him there.

Axl.

That was great for his pride.

Jon shook his hair out, untangling the loose curls and waves that had locked together. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with it, but whatever took the least effort - no teasing, no styling, nothing - seemed like the right choice.

The brunette knocks on Axl's window, flinching when his ring clinks against the glass. He slips the thing off his finger and hides it in his pocket. His heart squeezes, but it's the only right choice. Facing taking it off is still somehow easier than leaving it on while he fucks off on a… whatever the hell this is with Axl Rose. Of all fucking people.

Axl straightened up and forced himself to smile at Jon. This was supposed to be something that at least looked pleasant, he could act nice. It didn't hurt that he wasn't all that early, either. He stretched out of his car, letting the little bit of height his shoes gave him fuel his ego.

The light and dark thing definitely wasn't lost on him - while his eyes swept the other man - even if there was no way it was intentional. Would've worked better if he wasn't so damn pale but there wasn't really shit he could do about that, damn Irish genes. "Hey. You look good."

"I- Thanks." Jon tried not to look surprised. Something about the comment sent his stomach into knots, like it meant something more than it seemed like. But that was insane. He was just nervous. "You too."

"Thank you." The redhead smiled. He wasn't being difficult on purpose, but the little flash in Jon's eyes was still kind of funny. And the fucker was cute when he panicked, something he'd accepted that he would just have to live with. "You ready?"

"Oh- Uh, yeah." He nodded. Axl's cool was getting to him. Why was he so calm? What did he know that Jon wasn't getting? The brunette dug his nails into his palm. It was fine. Everything was fine. He just had to get his shit together.

And everything was fine… mostly. Axl almost had to start a fight just so he could pick up the popcorn - his pride could only take so much - but that wasn't too bad. The real issue started in the theater.

Jon's a coward. Plain and simple. He knows it, Richie knows it - it was surprising that it didn't come up earlier -, it's just something he's come to accept. It isn't like he can't handle blood, but pretty much anything past your typical 70s horror or cheap 80s slasher hits him hard. So the second someone gets shot through the face, he almost pukes. The impact is fine, but the shot of the carnage is too much to stand.

Axl froze up when he felt the hand on his arm. They were on the back row, away from everyone else, so he knew exactly whose it was. He had half a mind to actually brush it off, but it wasn't worth the scene. Not like it actually hurt him, anyway. It did send a little voice off in his head, though. Something was… off about the whole thing. Past the surface, obviously. Nothing he could name and definitely not enough to get him out of that theater, but it was there.

He glanced over, and didn't actually laugh out loud when he saw how freaked Jon looked, then just sorta froze. Jon wasn't wearing a wedding ring; the hand on his arm was completely bare. He was married, right? He'd had the ring on before and now it just… wasn't there.

His eyes darted back to the screen after a heartbeat. Everything happening up there was way easier to stomach than whatever he'd stumbled into. Axl told himself it was just a mistake. That was it. He'd forgotten shit like that before, too, and gotten into some pretty nasty fights because of it. That's all that happened.

It was hard to dwell on it with everything unfolding in front of him, though, depraved past what he could dream up even at his worst and most violent.

The little conscience he could work up almost managed to feel bad at the panic he could feel rolling off the man next to him. Axl sighed and shook the hand off his arm, resting his own on Jon's closest shoulder. It was the least he could do for spending the entire movie up to that point - and the entire thing after it - swearing under his breath in amazement. He forgot it pretty quick, anyway, thanks to more and more insano shit playing out in front of him.

And Axl's hand stayed there through the rest of the movie, another hour or so. Jon sank in when it landed, some kind of weight to distract him from the gore fest outside of the cop scenes. When it stays for a couple seconds after, though. His heart skips. Not some little flutter, either; the kind of thing that almost sent his hand to his chest like he was about to keel.

Axl'd pulled back with a quick "Oh, sorry," but it was already way too late for that. His brain was already off a mile a minute, circling any option for what the fuck just happened.

"You alright?" the redhead asked when he finally got out of his seat, stretching his back in the process. They'd both stayed back, he figured out of habit, until the theater was empty.

"Huh?" Jon blinked a few times. The lights 'suddenly' being back on just set his manic thoughts on fast forward while they walked down the steps, so close he could almost feel Axl.

"Seemed a little freaked is all." Axl shrugged. Not like it hadn't gotten to him, too, but it was closer to an adrenaline rush that mellowed him out by the time the lights were up.

"Oh, yeah. Just don't have the stomach for that kinda gore." He shot Axl's look right back at him, shoving down the jolt it sent down his spine. "Hey, I watch these things for the plot."

The redhead laughed, actually caught off guard. "Y'know? I'd buy that." Axl shrugged. "I mean, I get it. The thrill, endurance test thing?" Jon nodded a little absently. "That's what got me into it when I was a kid. Even if you can't stand it, the rush is nice."

"That, and knowing it would mortify the absolute shit outta my father."

Axl laughed so hard he almost startled himself and grinned over at the other man before things went quiet, not that he really minded. Just because he was calmed way the fuck down from earlier didn't mean he needed a new best friend.

Thoughts race past Jon a mile a minute. That look, that fucking look, finally sent him over. There were… He'd heard stories about Axl. Nothing concrete, but there'd been rumblings since they first hit the club scene. What he did, who he did it with; pretty, girly looking men. Had a taste for other rockstars, too. At least that's what he'd caught whispers of in Moscow. That was before Axl had any enemies, too. Gave it some weight. And suddenly it doesn't feel like sheer kindness - or whatever Axl was capable of - why Axl'd taken him home.

He shakes his head, ignoring the few looks they get. They were just stories, that was all! As far as Jon knows - and cares - they're out there for everyone! Him and Joe and Nikki and Rachel and Bret, and the guys from Warrant and Ratt and Dokken and W.A.S.P. and whoever the fuck else. It's nothing nefarious, the little logic he does still possess insists. If Axl wanted anything to do with him, he would've done it by now. That's how their kind operates, he knows this!

And, for some fucking reason, that makes his ribs squeeze. Just a little.

Axl glanced over at Jon. At first he figured the quiet was just so they wouldn't pull too much attention, but now they were out in the parking lot, far away from any ears and yet…

He didn't mind too bad, but half of him did worry the other man was gonna have a run in with some stranger's car. Axl whistled hard when Jon almost nailed a Lexus, a habit he'd picked up from wrangling strung-out bandmates. "Ah, sorry," he apologized- genuinely, that time. "You were just about to have a collision."

The brunette snapped back into himself at the sharp sound, a dark part of him rearing for a fight before something about Axl's tone and that damn smile calmed it down. Mostly. "Thanks," he'd finally answered, smiling back. But Jon's nerves were still working overtime in his guts. His hands were shaking to do something, anything, his whole body kinetic.

By the time they made it to their cars, he could've gone up in a ball of smoke and lighting.

Axl leaned against his own door, one hand in his pocket, the other smoothing through his hair while he slipped into one of those looks he apparently gave people. He never figured out what the hell they were talking about. "Y'know," he looked down and away for a second, amazing himself with what was about to come out of his mouth for the first time in a while, "I didn't have that bad a time tonight."

Jon smiled weakly while his heart went into fits at Axl eyeing him. He barely gets half a word of answer out before the energy ball just snaps. His hands are on the sides of Axl's face, pulling him in, holding their mouths together. There's no thought to it, no plan, just a burning hunger to take some fucking action for once in his life, like the words echoing in his skull had yelled to for months. And now he has and there's another man's stubble scratching at his face and every part of him is on fucking fire.

Axl locks up for a second before he steadies, and his arm finds its way around the other man's waist out of reflex. It's fucking weird, that's for sure, but Jon's not the first man to jump him like this and he sure as hell won't be the last.

The redhead does move for a little control, though, trying to turn Jon's frenzied assault into something more steady. But before he could hit his rhythm, the other man had already pulled away. Jon's lips wet and swollen, but everything else about him dripping in regret. Even the shock in his eyes has a twinge of it.

He didn't try to get any words out before he'd disappeared behind dark tinted windows, leaving Axl in the dust.

Chapter Text

Jon threw himself into the hottest shower he could stand the second he got home. Every part of him felt wrong, covered with dirt and slime and smut.

He couldn't get clean.

He wasn't fucking clean.

Fingerprints burn across his back, little marks from the Devil betraying his sins. His skin was searing.

Jon couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. His head was spinning like mad

And he couldn't get clean.

After a while - and a couple of hours - the brunette just gave up. Got in bed and nearly drank himself to sleep.

~~~~~

Axl stood in stunned silence for a second, just watching the dust Jon kicked up with his little disappearing act. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed. Because, really, the whole thing was just fucking absurd.

The redhead took the long way home. Switched his Ratt CD for a mix of a bunch of other stuff, mostly modern metal and the like: Stone Sour, Avenged Sevenfold, and Audioslave mixed with Mötley Crüe's self-titled, Skid Row's third, Soundgarden, and some other scattered classic alternative for good measure. At some point, "the long way" turned into just driving around until he found something he wanted to listen to a little less then everything else.

He was fading fast by the time he got home. Half of Axl wanted to disappear into a hot shower for a while, maybe figure out how the fuck he was gonna keep that whole thing from blowing up on him. The other half would've collapsed on the hard floor if his legs would just cooperate.

He tried to split the difference, stripping his top half and stretching out on the couch. The redhead passed out half-watching whatever was on Adult Swim. Trippy end to a trippy night.

~~~~~

When the morning came around, Jon still couldn't get rid of the filth. He found himself standing at the back of the only Latin Saturday mass in that part of L.A. He'd dug the old rosary he could never figure out what to do with out from the bottom of his nightstand and was running his fingers over the smooth beads. More than a decade and he still hadn't forgotten a single word. Fucking fantastic.

Even with his body going through the motions, his mind was still locked with thoughts of Axl's hands all over him. What he tasted like.

The brunette shakes his head. It was nothing. He had some kind of nervous episode and made a stupid mistake. It doesn't go any deeper than that. Even if he has to humor the sick idea that it was something else - something that makes his stomach turn -, Jon knows there isn't anything there for him. Axl has a reputation, and one any sane person would stay as far away from as possible.

The best thing he can do is forget about it. Let the whole fiasco die down, apologize if he absolutely has to, and move on. Because it was all just one big mistake. That's all.

That rock-solid plan does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves down. He can't even begin to question what the fuck got into him to begin with. It would probably send him into cardiac.

Jon grabbed his phone, praying Richie wasn't too hungover to answer. He practiced his lie again, explaining why it wasn't actually a date. No matter how much he wanted that stupid deal over with, he couldn't stomach thinking of last night as anything other than a series of horrifying mistakes.

"Didn't go well, did it?"

"Huh?"

"It's not even ten thirty and you're calling me. Date couldn't have gone all that well." Jon bit back a sigh.

"Couldn't even call it a date, really. She's got a girlfriend."

"Ouch, man! How the fuck d'you read that one wrong?"

It was a fake story about a fake chick, and Richie's laughing still pisses him off. It's not like Jon doesn't still have game! But the other man almost makes it sound like it's obvious he would screw up like that!

"Just been outta the game a while, I guess," he finally answered through gritted teeth. "Just give me another shot, alright? I still got, like, four and a half weeks until I lose, right?"

"Yeah, but do you really wanna do that?"

"If the other option is you setting me up with someone, yeah. Think I'll take my chances."

"Whatever, man. It's your life."

Jon forced a laugh. Nerves were building up too strong for him to stay nice; he made his excuses and got the fuck out of that conversation. All of a sudden he just really needed to be home.

But being home meant thinking and that's always dangerous. Almost every surface is still filled with notebooks with crappy quarter-finished songs that just keep screaming to him. He can just leave it alone. And he should. Go drink or catch a movie or try to find a cure for his incessant stupidity.

Or he can stare at blank pages for hours on end, trying to get something down. That's how he's wasted a lot of his time, recently. Because you can't put out an album under fifty minutes, anymore. That's what he'd said when he'd forced everyone else to wait for months so he could force out a few more songs for These Days that just didn't wanna come out. Letting You Go, This Ain't a Love Song, Lie To Me, then extending out a few others. He thought the lyrics were dumb or too short or something else stupid entirely.

He had this writer's block coming. The intensity's on him, now. At least he feels like it is. Jon has to feel the disappointment and the pressure, for pretty much the same reason, and now he feels like an idiot for it. If he could just pull himself together and yank his head out of his ass enough to just write about anything else. Same damn problem that held them up last time.

Most of them don't even have working titles, just… some half-assed ideas he can't shake. A mass of raw emotions that won't leave him alone. Even the ones that were a little more formed just slowed things down. Sweet, depressing, neutral, didn't seem to matter.

All that came out easy were the stupid good times songs, and those were mostly Richie's work.

He throws the book across the room. Let everyone bitch him out for not getting anything done again. It's only been a month since Have A Nice Day went live, anyway. They can start doing more work if they care so much.

~~~~~

Axl had been way more productive through the rest of that week than he had been the entire month before. He couldn't tell if it was because of what happened or some kind of ploy to keep his mind off it. Either way, it was almost superhuman what he managed to crank out.

Three full new songs - at least the lyrics for them -, a second demo for something else, thirds for a couple others, and around half of a different instrumental. It kinda felt like being on coke again. He never would've expected movie surfing at three in the morning, of all things, to spur on that kind of massive workflow, but he wasn't gonna complain.

The only rough patch was the opening to the first pre-chorus for one of them. Everything else came out clean enough, but the few lines he had there just felt sort of weak. Nothing he couldn't deal with, it was just a little annoyance at the back of his mind that wouldn't go away.

But now it's Wednesday again and he's waiting to see how this whole thing's gonna blow up. Axl's not all that bothered about it, never was. It doesn't even touch the dumbest shit he's ever done and he's made way worse choices when it comes to actual hookups. This ain't shit.

With the way Jon reacted, though… Best case scenario, they just go on like nothing's happened, maybe with a little less conflict. But Axl has the feeling that's not how things are gonna go. That kind of freak out would turn into a spiral, no question. Good money says it turns into panic over whether Axl's gonna go spill what happened to the press, and Jonny's gonna wonder if he should do it first and find a spin that protects his interests.

And it's kind of funny, honestly. Whatever Jon does isn't any real threat to him. There are thirty different ways for him to handle it and, with most of them, the absolute firestorm around him truly re-emerging for the first time in around a decade would overshadow anything that could fuck him.

A few hours later, things were wrapping up, and there was still no sight of Jon. Axl actually felt like he could hang around and not have it turn into a scene for everyone else to deal with. He didn't have all that much in him, but he still managed to strike up a short conversation with a cute younger brunette woman. She definitely wasn't his type, but he still got a few passes in because it made her eyes light up and he was feeling sweet.

Axl made his excuses after a bit and disappeared off to the record shop by his house. It had been a while since he'd dropped in and he could use some distraction for later. The In This Month racks were first. He grabbed the new material from Franz Ferdinand, Twista, and Bun B, plus the AOL sessions from Audioslave, Aerosmith's new live play, and the Roadrunner United record. He half remembered the promotionals from before the release and the whole thing was basically a wet dream come true.

"Axl, hey! New Bon Jovi's over there!"

"Thanks, Dus," he said, snickering at the stark orange and black cover the younger man, Dusty, was pointing at. Obnoxious. "Be sure ta check that out." He turned his attention to the shit he figured was actually worth listening to. Most of the new metal and alt stuff from either bands he liked or never heard of were coming home with him.

"You're really not curious?" the younger man asked, leaning over the counter.

"Curious, yes. Suicidal, no." Though shit coming from the guy buying Tommyland, but he was always a hypocrite.

"It can't be that bad."

"How d'you know that for sure? What, you listen to them?" Axl was just fucking around, Dusty could listen to any crappy music he wanted.

"Not anymore, but I've got proof they suck. You're just workin' with a theory." Dusty was staring right back at him with the exact same intensity.

"How far'd you hang on, then?"

"Been off the wagon two albums, that one from two-thousand sealed it for me. It's My Life was one of the best songs off that thing. Can you believe that?"

The redhead laid all his new hoard out on the counter. "Yeah. Bet my life on it, actually. Miss anything?" he asked. He figured he'd done a good enough sweep but he could never be too careful.

"Uh… Lemme see." He watched Dusty flip through the albums. The guy was cute, kind of a younger Henry Rollins lookalike, shaved bald with big hazel-green eyes and a couple gnarly piercings through the end of his eyebrow. If Axl was a couple years younger, he would've gone for it, but now the kind kinda felt like a little brother and he didn't wanna come off like some kind of creep. "You could probly skip Tommyland, but other than that, you're good."

"I know. Just wanted the ego boost." Because an uncompromised trainwreck is worse than nothing.

~~~~~

Another week passed of tearing through his new records and getting more work done than he had in years. Picked up a couple tickets for the Roadrunner show a couple months down the line; figured he would just make someone's day if he didn't find anyone he wanted to take.

There was also… maybe, just a little too much booze involved in the whole thing.

So he was nursing a hangover with aviators, aspirin, and coffee when he trudged into the group room. He almost stopped dead right there, as in actually kicking the bucket, when he saw Jon sitting there, curled in on himself and brooding like the one of the last dregs of grunge.

Looks like Jonny came marching home again and he was in a bad fucking mood about it.

The headache and shock of caffeine had his attitude problem back in full swing. Axl sat directly across from him, looked at Jon over his shades, and sent over the filthiest shit-eating smirk he had. Thankfully for him, the other man looked away before the light made his head start pounding again.

Jon scoffs and slings his arm over the back of his chair so he has an excuse to look anywhere else. He was already in a bad mood over the message Richie left on his machine an hour ago and now this shit. Of course Axl couldn't have the fucking decency to make himself scarce. No. He's got everything he needs to ruin Jon's life, and now he's gonna rub it in.

The brunette spent the rest of the time puffed up and seething, while Axl was leaned back and looking blissfully unaware, the way only someone with a fading hangover could be. He had this relaxed thing to his face and his tone, not stoned, but free. Like he'd just completely stopped caring about anything that could bother him. Why the fuck did he earn that when Jon was absolutely torn up over everything?

He stormed off at the first opportunity, phone in hand. Axl stayed back. Jon punched Richie's number on speed dial. Every ring just made him more upset. What? Was he really still asleep?

"Mh. Heeey, Jonny."

"You just get up?"

"Yeah… No… I dunno, man. My couch fuckin' sucks, man. Spent last night in the dog house, I've been in n' out all day. What's up?"

"So you woke up just ta tell me my music sucks?" Jon crosses his arms as best he can and leans on one of the walls in the hallway. He isn't sure if he even buys that story, not like it even matters.

"What?"

"The fuckin' message, Richie."

"Brother, I am running on half-speed. You're gonna have ta help me out a little."

"You called me, hours ago, and told me the new material sucked and we should throw it out and try something else! What the fuck was that about?"

"I did not-" The other end of the line dropped dead. All he could hear was some muffled rustling. "Oh fuck, I did. Was I really that mean?"

"Those weren't your exact words, if that's what you're getting at, but you weren't fucking nice!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't… Wasn't supposed to sound mean. Actually, I meant ta come over later so we could talk things out in person."

"Talk what out, Rich? How washed up I am as a songwriter?"

"I- Okay, I know I didn't say that! Could you just let me explain?"

Axl slipped out the door to see Jon red-faced, yelling into his phone. He was sort of mesmerized for a second, even though it made his headache worse, until "Oh, just fuck off, Richie!"

The redhead went pale. Or- It wasn't just that he didn't think Jon had it in him. But that was Axl! The tone, the burning eyes, all of it! He could hear a muffled voice yelling through the speaker, too- couldn't tell if it was angry or something else entirely. And, for some reason, that actually managed to scare the living shit out of him. Seeing Jon, the supposed sweetheart, snap like that one someone he was apparently so close to just…

He wasn't letting himself get that bad again. No goddamn way.

Axl pulled out his phone, all but praying he still remembered the number.

"Hello?"

Oh thank god. He hadn't even considered Sebastian could've changed his number. "I'm sorry"

"I- Axl? The fuck are you talking about?"

"I-I'm sorry." I just saw my future and it's had frosted tips and put out twenty years worth of shitty albums. "I've been a fuckin' shithead, the entire time we've known each other, let's be real. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

"Slow down a second, man. You- I-" The younger man sighed. "I can't just fuckin' believe you like that, man."

"Yeah. Totally fair."

"You… I didn't think you were gonna just agree with me like that. That's… like, this isn't enough, y'know? You gotta prove you're not gonna flip out on me again, cuz that was fucked up, man."

"Yeah it was." Axl pushed through the front doors and stopped just off the sidewalk. "I mean, I don't fuckin' know how ta make up for this kinda shit, I'm still pretty new ta this, but I'm gonna try. Whatever it takes."

""I- That sounds great, yeah, but… It's a big fuckin' promise, man. How can you- Are you back on meds or something?"

"No. But I'm about two years off coke, so that should count for something." The redhead rubbed his nose. "Hey, I've got an extra ticket to that Roadrunner mega-concert out in New York comin' up in December if you want it. Even just take it as an apology and tell me ta fuck off."

"Sounds good, man. Not the 'fuck off' part, just-" Sebastian snickered. "I'll see you."

"Right on! I-"

Axl grunted and stumbled back. His phone flew off somewhere. His heart was racing; There were hands tangled in his shirt. He almost gags on the sour taste that floods his mouth.

"Who the fuck was that?!"

"What?"

"Who the fuck were you talking to and what the fuck were you talking about?"

Animal instinct kicked in. Axl almost rolled over - his knees were getting weak - before his eyes refocused and something else took over. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He shoved his hands between Jon's to grab his shirt. "What is it with this shit? Agin!"

He could've thrown Jon to the ground right there. Done whatever he wanted, turned his pretty face into a mess of tears and bruises and blood. If his legs were more stable, he would've, too.

"You can't fucking tell anyone what happened at that movie!"

Axl fucking laughed. "And why the fuck would I do that? Who the hell would wanna brag about getting assaulted by the lamest rockstar in history?"

"Your pathetic ego couldn't use the boost? No one's given a shit about you in a decade! You could use it!"

"Oh, suck my dick! I could get my 'ego' off going out to any paper, magazine, radio station, or channel in Los Angeles and talking about any stupid shit I want. And it'll get more attention than anything you've done since the eighties. Hell, just take a page outta your book and pump out a shitty album every couple years. You know how easy it is, and your pussywhipped fans clearly keep buying."

Axl was shaking with rage and adrenaline. It took all the energy he had left to keep himself from turning Jon into the pulp he wanted to. "So how about you get your fucking hands off me and I won't break your face in. That sound good?"

Jon was still puffed up and seething. He wasn't even sure Axl could take him in a fight; he wasn't all that big! But he couldn't stay close that long. His head was spinning, he was breathing wrong, his stomach was twisting up in a way he couldn't stand.

"Fine!" Jon broke off from Axl and took a step back. "But you say anything about this to anyone, and I'll come over and beat your ass."

"I'll leave the door open for you, babe." He smiled derisively while the other man stormed off. Axl flattened out his clothes before his attention caught on his phone in the grass. "Oh, hey. Sorry 'bout that." The redhead tried to keep his voice casual like he didn't almost just kill a man.

"What the- Are you alright, man?"

"Fine enough."

"The fuck just happened?"

Axl breathed out a laugh while he started back to his car. "I couldn't explain if I wanted. Really."

Chapter Text

Axl stared straight out at his wall. He'd managed to get himself upstairs and into bed - he felt fine enough for the rest of the night - but, now, getting out was turning into a struggle.

Halloween was always hard for him. He'd actually skipped the day, that year, for his own sake and because he was so high on his own creativity he halfway forgot. But, now, it was all hitting him in waves. Even skipping the actual night, Axl still had all the crappy decorations up in his house and now half of them were yelling in his step-father's voice, telling him he was going to hell for it all.

They were all coming down when he got the energy. That was just another uphill he'd have to beat.

He finally forces himself out of bed at around ten thirty. It feels like some kind of twilight zone of too early and too late. Axl had always used sleeping in as a work around to the voices of his mother and step-father insisting he had to be up and doing their fucking jobs from the second he woke up. He was up at five this morning.

Axl sets up on his back porch with a handful of pre-rolls and a few vinyls and CDs under his arm. He curls up against the side of his house with his legs bent in front of him. That's where he keeps the record and disc players when he isn't using them, anyway. He doesn't know what he wants or what he's feeling. Like he's drowning in his own skin and he can't find the surface. There isn't any air, just more darkness, more water.

He put on Audioslave's self-titled.

In a few seconds, there's smoke rising up through the gray sky - he's hiding in an oversized trucker jacket to keep the cold off. The stuff still isn't really legal, but Axl conned a doctor out of a med script at the first opportunity. At some point, he realized it probably wasn't a good con, his brain was really just fucked.

He didn't feel like he was getting better. Actually, he figured he was getting worse. He should've been proud of himself for finally getting off his ass and trying to fix things with Sebastian, but he just couldn't. Axl couldn't even finish the conversation before he fucking snapped! Just getting grabbed almost sent him into his worst flashback in years and then he jumped almost immediately to serious violence. He wasn't fucking kidding about caving the guy's face in.

So the fucked up childhood and anger issues, and going one to the other in less than a second. There were his three worst traits in less than a minute, immediately after a group session. The only thing missing was the blinding perfectionism.

He couldn't even stop pushing buttons when he knew Jon had to be going through hell, and it was even harder to shut off when it could've actually gotten his ass beaten. Nothing had changed. It just felt like his fuse was getting shorter again and he couldn't pull any more back out.

Axl sat out and smoked til he got hungry, then put away half the easy to make shit in his kitchen. He didn't get anything done the rest of the day, other than lazily starting a few songs and starting to edit a couple others. Then he passed out on his couch. Because old habits die hard.

~~~~~

Jon woke up at 7:00, got up at 7:05, and was downstairs working by 7:15. He was running through coffee like it was nothing; trying to trick his brain into actually doing what he wanted so he could get anything done. His thoughts were skipping around all over the place. The only connecting threads between anything were a lot more excited than he was comfortable with.

Every time he tried to push away, some domino line of thoughts led back to his pants.

And Axl's pants. He was leaned over his desk when he realized that one, thumping his pencil against the back of his neck. One way or another, that excitement always found its way back to how fucking close Axl got, or how he still looked with his shirt off.

Somehow, his notebook found itself against the wall on the other side of the room. No matter. All of a sudden, he was tired of writing, anyway.

He missed filming so fucking bad; something that basically took up his whole calendar, and kept his mind busy, without actually relying on him having to come up with things? Right then, that was Heaven.

But the movie was out, and he had to fill his own time like an adult. And not the way his sick subconscious was telling him. Because, when he actually rolled it around in his head, the thought made him sick. He couldn't even picture how it would happen. It was patently fucking ridiculous.

That helped him push everything away, finally.

For a while. Until he woke up the next morning, sweating, with his hand between his legs and Axl's voice still in his ears. It only took a few seconds for the echoes to stop, but the damage was done. He threw himself out of bed, and got bundled in sweats, a long sleeve shirt, and the thickest jacket he could get away with in the California autumn. It was eight. He should've been out of bed, anyway.

Jon put on the first graphic movie he found in his collection, cranked an old Dokken record, and threw back some coffee, then set to work trying to get something written. But he was too frantic. Not scattered. No, every single thought speeding through his brain was focused on just two things, but none of them would sit still or go the fuck away.

The worst of it was centered on Axl. How his hands felt. What he tasted like.

He doubled over, head in hands.

This was some kind of punishment. It had to be. That's why this didn't start until after he stepped out of line. If Jon had never given into that temptation, none of this would be happening. He kissed another man and now he was suffering for it.

Jon somehow hunted down another Latin mass that hadn't started yet. He didn't even have to dig for his rosary that time. He'd just left it on the coffee table after last time.

There were eyes on him from the second he walked in, burning into his skin like hot sugar; nothing he did could shake the feeling. He could've melted.

When everything was over, he actually almost went for confession. He needed something to try and get the rest of the filth off him. But he couldn't. Just thinking about the smell of that wood and having to say any of what happened - or was happening - out loud made him sick to his stomach. No one ever needed to know about this.

It was gray and chilly when he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The pit in his stomach was primed to swallow him whole. Jon pulled out his phone and speed dialed Richie. He could never admit to anything about Axl, but his conscience was still screaming at him to repent for something. It took a few rings before he got an answer, driving his heart higher up in his throat.

"Morning. I didn't sleepwalk n' break down your door or anything, right?" Jon couldn't tell how sarcastic that was supposed to be.

"I… Maybe I deserved that. I overreacted yesterday. It's- I was stressed out and you just got the worst end of it, I guess. I'm sorry."

Jon's back in his car, now, Bryan Adams humming on his radio. He needs the closest coffee he can get to. Been running on the stuff for months, since… Since a lot of things. He can almost hear Richie thinking things over from the other end of the line.

"What's goin' on with you, Jon? I know things 're bad, and I know you've been sorta bitchy before. And I'm sorry, but that's what this is, man. But you were getting better. What changed, Jonny? Cause I can't do this forever." Richie sounded so tired.

"It wasn't anything big, just… I can't shake this writer's block. I don't like how anything I do get down is coming out. Think you were right, too. I dunno if the Have a Nice Day style is gonna work for something else, but I dunno where else to go. We can't go back to where we were back in the eighties and Bounce got fucking panned. I don't like bein' in a corner, but I think that's where we are up." Jon pulled up to the drive through and covered his speaker and ordered the biggest thing he could get his hands on.

"Is that what this is about?"

"A lot of it, yeah." He doesn't like just lying like that, but he can't get the rest of it to come out of his mouth.

"Mhh." Richie went quiet for a moment. "So why don't we do something else?"

"What-"

"Can I finish? Please?" The other man didn't sound too annoyed, but Jon was still on edge. His coffee was either working way too fast, or not fast enough. He couldn't tell.

"Go right ahead."

"We've been playing catch up, no two ways about it. I think everything's worked pretty well, but most of it's not really us, y'know? I say fuck the last four albums, fuck what anyone else is doing or trying to follow some sort of natural progression bullshit from where we are, alright? We can breathe, now. The new album's doin' good-"

"In Europe."

"Success is success, Jonny. And now we've got the time to play around, right? No pressure to put any of it out, just feel around and see what sticks. No stupid ideas, nothing's too out there."

Jon was sitting in his driveway, nodding like an idiot, with his knees pinned up against his steering wheel. He stepped out of his car and stretched before he could start talking. "That could be alright."

"Cool. I'm fuckin' jammed the next two/three days, but I should be open after that if you wanna mess around on some stuff."

Oh, thank God. Jon sighs when he realizes Richie's still willing to be in the same room with him. "That sounds good. Call me when you've got time?"

"Course. See you later?"

"Yeah, man, later." Jon puts his phone back in his pocket and heads inside. He's somehow only halfway through his coffee.

~~~~~

"Fucking nightmares." Axl stares up into darkness. His chest is still heaving, but he's too tired to be anything but annoyed for a couple seconds.

He'd woken up after a couple minutes, earlier - drained but actually feeling pretty alright - and spent most of the day after just watching the most graphic shit he could find without too much work. That has to be unconnected from the shit show he woke up to just now, but the little evangelist asshole living in the back of his brain doesn't miss the opportunity to insist that it is - and one of the many reasons he's going to hell.

Like he hadn't been there already. His brain had pulled some fucked up shit, mixing both of his waste of space, pathetic excuses for "fathers" into one abomination, and he… Well, it went exactly how Axl would've expected. Almost every part of his body's sore, somehow, and he's hard. Annoying on a good morning, but now it's adding to the slog of shame and disgust he's wrestling with.

The thought of anything going down his pants makes his stomach churn, so there's no dealing with that, at least for a little while. Times like this, he really thinks he could kill. Really, actually. Put a body six feet under, no pause, no hesitation. Not just those two old fuckheads, either. Every single person who let it all happen, everyone who saw and didn't say a fucking thing, everyone who ever doubted him, or called him crazy, or looked down on him for it. Every single person who crossed him.

Maybe that last part was a little unreasonable. In fairness to him, though, he's still running on stress and adrenaline and… about five hours of sleep, according to the clock on his nightstand. A little after seven, just barely sunrise. No one's sane this early in the morning.

He turns onto his side and grabs blindly for a notebook and pen in the semidarkness. There's just barely enough sunlight to make out some of the shapes without his glasses. Everything was still churning around his head, wild and angry.

Axl scribbled down the flood of words and ideas bouncing around his skull. It felt really… underdeveloped? Obviously. It was a couple-minute rough draft he wrote sleep deprived. But he didn't mean it that way. He didn't actually think some of it could get better if he worked on it later - it couldn't get any realer than this - but it was something in the style of it.

Plenty of people had argued over the years that he was too wordy, or purple - gross -, or that he couldn't get to a point. Axl always thought they could all go fuck themselves, but the thought was out there. What he got down here, though, was a lot shorter. More direct. Less than twenty words in the whole first section of it. He was too worn down to be proud of that, if he even should be in the first place.

Even when the notebook disappeared back into his nightstand and he was curled back up under his covers, Axl couldn't get back to sleep. He was still a little worked up and his waistband was still digging into the skin just under his belly.

There's still no taking care of that, so he pulls himself up out of bed and goes downstairs. It's too late for coffee and, besides, now that he's only a little on edge there's something kinda nice about the weighed-down, spaced-out feeling covering him. He still heads to the kitchen to make himself a real breakfast, something he hasn't done in literal decades.

He'd been forced to do it for other people so much when he was younger that he couldn't stand the thought of it for a while. By the time it stopped disgusting him the same way, he was too coked out of his mind to really want to eat half the time. Now, though, he's fucking ravenous.

The little country boy he'd tried to push down when he first got to L.A. reared his pretty head and somehow managed to work up enough food for at least two people with the almost nothing that was in his fridge. Sometimes that dark part of him came in handy.

Food helped get rid of most of the nerves still holding onto his stomach. He was at least relaxed enough to get splayed on his couch with a Steven King and blow the rest of the morning.

~~~~~

Jon spent the three days before Richie called again writing more stuff he ultimately trashed and toying with his guitar to try and put out something that sounded even remotely like a song. He jumps off his couch when the phone rings, almost falls on his ass trying to get it, and picks up. "Rich?"

"Hey, Jonny." Richie sounded tired, but okay enough.

"You ready to come over?"

"About that…" The other man trails off and says something else Jon can't make out. Heather must be home. Rough. "I'm still good to try to get some work done, but I think you're gonna have to come over here. Heather isn't too thrilled about me crashing at your place last time. My whole setup's still intact- probably better than last time you saw it, actually."

Jon pauses for a second. He wasn't expecting anything to go wrong. Maybe that's a strong word, but he's worked up and uncaffeinated, like some sort of fucking idiot. "S-Sure. Alright. Just let me grab some coffee and I'll be right over."

"Right on, man. See you in a few." The line clicked and Jon almost threw his receiver across the room.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

If it didn't involve so much more time and the risk of getting pissed off, he would've run out for a smoke, too. His hands were shaking and heart was somewhere up near his throat. And it was only nine. It was sick.

Jon was suddenly, really not looking forward to his day.

Chapter Text

Jon stretched out on one of the leather couches in Richie's "office" down in his basement. The whole first floor was icy. He almost sighed in relief when Richie told him Ava was with her grandmother. That almost cut the dread he felt thinking about the conversation Richie was definitely going to spring on him.

"So." Almost. "About two weeks left, yeah? You got your eye on someone, or am I gonna have to set you up?"

Jon sighs. He flicks his pen back and forth between his fingers. He'd spent the whole drive over trying to come up and rehearse through his new way out of this, but now that the time has come, he needs a second to settle his nerves.

"Yeah, kinda. I just…" He sighs again. "I can't do this."

"Jonny-"

"No, not- I feel guilty, okay? And not in, like, a normal sort of way. It's this massive shame thing. Just- Every part of me, man. I can't think about it, it's driving me nuts. I can't eat or sleep or anything, unless I just… completely shove it off, you know? I dunno if I can go through with this, but I also don't think I can go and find anyone else. I'm just… stuck, I guess." Jon was turning things up, yeah, but it's all at least a little true. That sure feels great.

"Guilty how?" Richie leans forward with his elbows on his knees and tilts his head.

What are you, a therapist? "Hey, you were raised Catholic, how d'you think?" Full honesty that time.

"I should've expected that, huh? So… What is it about this girl, specifically, that's got you so messed up?"

His dick. "I… I'm not sure. I just shouldn't. Can't shake the feeling." He's vibrating from nerves. The few lines he'd scribbled down while he was talking were completely illegible, even to him.

"So if you don't know what it is, how d'you know it's actually wrong? Maybe it's just your nerves eatin' you."

"Okay, but what if-"

"How much trouble can you really get in if you don't know you're doin' somethin' wrong?" It was such a fucking high school answer, but Richie looked sincere. Too sincere. That was dangerous.

"So, what? Just go for it and hope for the best?"

"Pretty much." Stupid questions, stupid answers.

Jon straightened up and looked at his friend. "That's really your best advice?"

"Would you rather see who I set you up with?"

So he was trapped. Again. Jon sighs and turns his attention back to his notebook for a second, trying to rewrite his chicken scratch into something that actually makes sense.

"What if something goes wrong?" A last, desperate attempt to get out of this.

"Whaddo you think this girl is gonna do to you, Jonny?"

"Kill me." His voice comes out soft and even, because he didn't realize he was talking at first. Jon snickers under his breath when he realizes what's happened. Richie looks horrified. "What? She's scary."

"Oh. So it's self-preservation that's got you so freaked out."

"Pretty much."

"I still think you should give it a shot." Now it's Jon's turn to look mortified, and Richie just snickers. "Come on. I'll get you some mace, you'll be fine."

There's silence for a little while. Jon can't fathom another way out of this; he still can't bring himself to lie for some reason. So he sighs in defeat and locks eyes with Richie, again, praying for a little luck. "So I'm really doing this?"

"You don't really have a choice."

No. No, he fucking doesn't.

The rest of the morning went pretty well, even if Richie spent a little too much time just shooting off riffs and licks and solos from other bands he was starting to recognize, now. He couldn't keep up with most of it, but some of the Foo Fighters stuff was a little easier on him.

'Coming up with ideas' started to look a lot like just going through records at some point, but maybe that was for the best. The more Jon tried to talk, the harder it was to actually get any words out. He was just so distracted. Everything was zeroed in on Axl again.

Maybe it would be alright. He'd been telling himself he wasn't Catholic anymore for a decade. It was about time that paid off somehow!

They screwed around for around another hour, even though Jon was off in his own world, before he finally decided he had to go so he could figure out what to do. But Richie stopped him at the door. "So when're you gonna ask this girl out?"

Jon froze up. He was sure he could hear Heather gasping from across the house.

"You're on a timeline, remember?"

His jaw tensed up for a second while it finally sank the rest of the way in that he was really doing this. "Next Wednesday."

"Alright, man. Good luck."

Jon was gonna need it.

Chapter Text

Wednesday. Axl woke up with his arm hanging over the side of his couch. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He wouldn't even remember what day it was, either, if it weren't for the gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach. Dramatic? Maybe. But what was new?

Just don't go. That wasn't an option. He was awake, wasn't he? He was awake and he swore to himself that he was going to go unless he was sick or dead or busy - and not because he made himself busy. Avoidance could only go so far.

Huh. 

Axl didn't remember the last time he heard his therapist. He was about to get up and make himself presentable, honest, when his cell rang. "Hello?"

"You sound tired. You just get up?" Sebastian sounded way too happy for… 4:00 in the afternoon. Okay, maybe not.

"Believe it or not, yeah." Axl laughed. "Stayed up too late last night, nothin' new."

"God, you really have changed. While back, you coulda raged til 3:00 and been nagging me at 5:00 for not being up yet."

"It's called gettin' old, kid. Give it a couple years."

"You busy?"

"Uh… That depends."

"On what?" Sebastian sounded fucking incredulous, but there was a smile in his voice.

"Well, if you need help movin' a couch, then my sister's gettin' married today, sorry."

"So your friendship stops at couch moving, got it. Any other new limits I should know about?"

"Barn raisin'."

"What's up with you today, man? You're downright pleasant."

"God, I know. I haven't had any coffee yet. Get me caffeinated and I'll be a bitch again, I promise. So what's up?"

"Right. Uh… so I realized after we talked the other day that I never listened to that Roadrunner album. And I figured that would be embarrassing for both of us, so I picked it up and I thought…"

That doesn't count as real plans. You can do it tonight. Or tomorrow. Or-

Axl grit his teeth. One fucking thing for himself. That's all he wanted. He was supposed to get out of the house more, right?

Just push it back a couple hours. Jesus.

"I…" Axl sighed. "I'm so fuckin' spacebrained, I'm sorry. I've got somethin' goin' on. I can maybe swing by later, it'll just take a couple hours. I'm so sorry." Axl full on had his face in his hand. This whole fucking 'being a responsible adult' thing was a fucking racket. 

Everyone tells kids their whole lives that they can make all the decisions when they grow up. No one ever mentioned all the choices are just repeated kicks to the balls.

"You forgot that until just now?"

"It's four past noon and I just woke up on my couch. I ain't doin' all that great." He peeled his shirt off and threw it off to the side. "I can still be by in a couple hours if you want. I'm gonna be over on fifth, there's still that really good pizza place between there and yours, right? I'll pick some up on the way over."

"Sounds alright, man." 

Axl wasn't doing shit to prove he wasn't still a selfish flake and he knew that and it was pissing him off.

"I'm just a dumbass, I promise."

"Well I'll see you later, dumbass. And get pepperoni, yeah?"

"Will do."

~~~~~

Axl leaned against the wall, waiting for the last round of people from group to filter out. He wasn't in the mood to get caught in the crosshairs of small talk. So his only option was to wait outside. Like a pervert.

This the kind of brain-melting understimulation is half the reason he used to smoke and now he's just stuck holding his figurative dick in his hand.

It didn't take too long for everyone to disappear, thank god, and he almost deflated in relief when Jon was one of them. He wasn't in the mood for any of that shit.

A few more people left before he went in and sat down. He'd started growing back into his own skin since he got up, but he was still way too far off for chitchat. The sound of footsteps started trailing in again. Axl leaned back and had some of his coffee.

It shot up his nose when Jon walked back into the room. There was not enough caffeine in the state of California to kill his headache.

But he told himself he was gonna do better, and leaving now would just cause a scene. Axl just stared off at the wall. He wasn't gonna start shit. He wasn't gonna break down. Everything was gonna be fine.

Axl resigned himself to staying as quiet as he could, not that he had been planning to talk all that much anyway, and tried to let the time fly past. He could, for the most part. As long as he could ignore the eyes burning into him from across the room.

The bastard sat right across from him on purpose. Axl just knew it.

But he wasn't gonna make it a scene.

Everything managed to end without any bloodshed, thank god, and Axl was itching to get out of there. He had plans and there was no way he was staying back to figure out what that fucker wanted. 

His ears prick up at the sound of footsteps following him down the hall. The last time he got jumped is suddenly right back in his mind. He can't show up to see Sebastian looking like he just got in a fight. No way does that end well after he made such a big show of how much he's changed.

Axl freezes dead when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Everything's fine. Everything's going to be fine.

"Look, can we- I-I- We've gotta talk, I-" Jon stops to steady his nerves. He has to force himself to keep his eyes up and not focus on where he could see Axl's sweatshirt riding up.

"No we don't." Axl sets his jaw and starts walking again. Faster this time.

"Just for a second, I just-"

Axl spun around on his heels and put a finger to Jon's chest. "The last time you wanted to 'talk', you damn near tried to mulch my face on that lawn out there. Now I've got plans." He paused to keep himself civil. "I don't have time for this."

"Please, only a minute. It's really important."

"What co-"

Axl couldn't respond before Jon was all over him again. He froze stuff in shock. The first time was one thing, but now there were people. People who could see him, making out with Jon Bon Jovi, of all fucking people.

A split second passed before he could finally make himself move and separate from the other man. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, because he was more annoyed and edgy than anything. But he had to deal with the fuckhead's inability to keep his hands to himself before it had time to escalate.

"Look. Tell me what you want, then leave me the fuck alone."

Jon's flushed and breathless when he gets pushed back. "You. I-I need- want…" He shakes his head. "It's you."

Nerves settle back into frustration and Axl takes another step back. No hitting. "Come here."

Because this can't mean what he thinks it means. There's no way any good Catholic boy like that would want in his pants. No fucking way.

He gestures to follow then marches out the front door. Any sane person would just leave. He should just leave. And Axl knows this, but he can't help but see where this thing goes. Intelligence never ran in his family. 

And this was way, way too bizarre to pass up.

They could not look more different marching down that hallway. Axl looked like he'd slept on his couch; he was drowning in a black sweatshirt and ripped, oversized jeans. One of his sneakers was untied for Christ's sake, there's no way he was getting laid dressed like that. Especially not with someone dressed the way Jon was. The hair still made him come off a little like a manwhore, but other than that he looked like an accountant. Yellow sweater, dark blue slacks, fucking loafers. The man was wearing a belt. He seemed like a real adult, if it wasn't for the fact that the scared little kid energy was rolling off him in sheets.

Autumn air blasted them when the doors opened. Axl led them both outside and into a corner where the building hollowed in on itself. 

"Stand." Axl pointed to a spot between himself and one of the walls.

Jon did what he was told. His heart was fucking pounding.

"Now you're gonna breathe, alright, cuz I can't handle any more of that stuttering bullshit, then you're gonna tell me what exactly it is you want from me." Axl crossed his arms and waited. 

You're wasting your time, dude.

He sighs. It's just a couple minutes to figure out what the fuck is going on. Otherwise this is the only thing he's thinking about for the next week.

"I already told you, man." Jon takes a deep breath. He shoves his hands in his pockets and clenches his fists. Something already started bubbling up in his chest. He can't tell what, but the end result was the same. "I figured you of all people would know what I mean."

"I would know what you mean? You fucked around with the Crüe boys and I'm the model slut to you?" It wasn't exactly wrong, but Axl was still indignant. That was a lucky shot, at best.

Jon threw his hands up defensively. "That's not what I meant, I-" He tried to breathe through his tight ribs. "I'm on edge, I'm sorry. I-I just meant you're not as… unaware as some people might be, okay?"

"So you want me to fuck you." Axl stepped back and crossed his arms. He was standing at full attention, which was just testing the hell out of his nerves.

The brunette shrank into himself. "Yeah."

Axl can't make himself find this as funny as it really is. "Really?"

"Yes." Jon was staring down at his shoes at this point. He looked like a scared little kid.

Now it's funny.

Axl forces his face to stay still but he's losing it inside. Part of him is still sure this has to be a setup, because how the fuck else could this be happening? But he'd seen the man act. This wasn't that.

"You nervous?" Axl cocked his head and smirked. He just can't help himself.

"No shit, genius."

Jon can't breathe. Someone's gonna hear this. Someone's gonna see the two of them together and figure out what's going on. He's almost sure a pit is going to open up in the ground and drag him down to hell.

"Look, you gotta relax, man."

"It is not that—"

"I know it's not that easy. I've been where you are before, I get it. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? And I'm absolutely not gonna tell anybody. That wouldn't be good for either of us. You just gotta chill the fuck out and trust me a little, alright? You gotta remember, you could really fuck me over here, too, and I'm not too big on that happening. You mind your manners, I'll mind mine. Okay?"

Jon crossed his arms. Maybe he wanted to be freaked out.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Axl raised his eyebrows. None of this was his idea, so he really didn't get the attitude. But he was never really one to pass up a chance to get laid.

"Can we just get outta here?"

"Of course."

Axl turns on his heels and Jon follows, still buzzing with… something. He can't pull his eyes away from the other man's back. The drive is way too long. He can feel his heart pounding against his ribs like he's dying. It took the whole way to get his heart to stop pounding. He was lucky nobody got hurt.

They pulled into the driveway seconds apart and Axl led the way into his living room. He could tell at a glance how nervous Jon was. Poor boy was practically shaking. "You want a drink or something?"

"What are you trying to do here?"

"Relax."

That was rich coming from someone who was sounding more and more like an Afterschool Special.

"Look. This isn't gonna be very fun for either of us if you can't calm down a little bit." Axl figured he could actually have a pretty good night, but his conscience wouldn't be okay with it.

"You're gonna drink, too, right?" Jon couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding like it was about to explode.

"'Course. I'm not a pervert." Axl opened his freezer, half full with several different kinds of booze. "Whaddo you take?"

"Whiskey."

"Mh. Good taste."

Can't be that good, I'm doing this.

Jon followed into the kitchen after a second. He could almost feel the hangover from last time coming over him all over again. He watched Axl pour their drinks. "Rebel?"

"What? Is it not up to your standards?"

"No, it's fine. Just thought you'd go for something a little higher class."

It took all of Axl's self control to not roll his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm a sucker for anything sweet and southern. Besides, we're drinking to get drunk, I don't see the point in breaking out the expensive stuff."

Jon takes his drink with a forced smile.

"Don't take it too hard. You have got to be a lot bitchier to keep up with me." Axl smiled to no response. "Come on, man. It's taken me decades of hard work to get this obnoxious, you never stood a chance!"

"Aw, you gotta give me a little credit. You looked like you wanted to kill me a second ago."

"Got me there." Axl shrugged. He held his glass up for a little toast. They clinked and drained their drinks. "You want another one?"

"Please." The first settled his nerves some, but it did nothing to silence the everpresent voice of his father calling him a sinner. He couldn't exactly focus on anything else with the running commentary. One more should do it. "Thank you."

"No problem." Axl poured another drink for himself, too. He didn't really need it, but he really didn't need another freak out. He wasn't in any hurry drinking and it didn't seem Jonny was, either.

They're both just watching each other like they don't understand how cups work. Axl can hear his heartbeat rising in his ears. He isn't nervous, more horny, but the effect's about the same. His eyes stay locked on the other man's mouth while he drinks.

Jon finally puts his half-full glass down on the counter. He's getting too worked up to really focus on anything but what he wants. "So..."

"So?" Axl takes a step closer. "What, you don't remember how this goes?"

"Could you cut the sarcasm for just a second?"

"'Course."

Jon shrinks when Axl smiles and gets even closer. But he doesn't move. It's impossible for him to move.

Axl closed the gap between them. He put a hand under Jon's chin. "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"No." That fact doesn't stop him from leaning in. They're barely inches apart now. Jon can feel his heartbeat rising in his chest.

"There's nothing stopping you from running out that door right now." Axl cut his eyes over for a second to make a point.

"I know." He slowly moves to grab the bottom of Axl's sweatshirt with shaking hands.

Axl smiles that evil smile of his. The look in his eyes is almost enough to make Jon bolt, but he's in too deep for that. He can't go through all of this just to not get anything out of it.

"Do you want me to make the first move?" he asked, dangerously sincere. His natural bend to teasing took a backseat when all he could see was how wide-eyed and nervous Jon was.

"Please." Jon hardly gets a chance to finish before Axl's lips are on his. He tenses when Axl tries to slip under his arms to grab his waist.

Axl broke off for a second, ignoring the nagging in his pants. "You gotta relax, man, you're ruining your own fun. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. You just gotta trust me a little."

Jon takes a deep breath. "Just don't grab my hips, man. That's… Just don't."

"Alright." Axl nodded. "How about this?" he asked as he went to get close again. When Jon didn't back away, Axl slipped an arm around his waist just under his ribs.

"That's alright."

"Good."

Axl cups his face with his free left hand and pulls him back in for a kiss. Jon just lets it happen, before he finally wakes up and kisses back. He wraps one arm around Axl's shoulders and hooks the other under his left arm.

He can't remember the last time he was this hard. His zipper feels like it's about to break.

Axl let things go on until he couldn't stand the friction. And judging by the way Jon was pushing up against him, he couldn't either. He untangled as best he could and pulled away before he could do anything stupid or desperate. The way Jon looked up at him with wide soft eyes like a puppy begging for more nearly pushed him into it. "Come on, let's get upstairs."

Unless you want me to take you on the counter.

Jon nods. He's getting hotter by the second. "Let's… Let's go."

He lets Axl take the lead, so he doesn't have to worry about having anyone behind him, and follows all the way to Axl's bedroom. His stomach twists itself in knots. 

Axl pushed the door open and backed into his room. He couldn't help but look at Jon like he was the prettiest thing in the world. "You're still lookin' a little nervous. You want me to help take the edge off?"

"I'm not having another drink."

"That's not… exactly what I was talking about." Axl held eye contact while he sank to his knees. "How's this?"

Jon couldn't make himself say anything. He just nodded and watched Axl pull him out of his pants and boxers. He couldn't remember the last time anyone touched him like that.

Axl didn't screw around, he didn't try to be cute. He wasn't sure Jonny could take all that. 

"Oh my God."

He was easy to swallow. He wasn't small, but he wasn't big either. He just was. Axl had done harder.

Jon feels ready to pass out. He can't even try to think about how many times Axl must've done this to get so good. One of his shaking hands lands on Axl's shoulder while the other white-knuckles the doorframe to keep him standing. His eyes fall closed. He can barely stand it.

Axl would've smirked if he could. He always knew he was good, but it'd been a while since he got a reaction that big. Even knowing it had to be a little overblown - there was no way he was anything but Jon's first - it did some dangerous things to his ego.

"God. A-Axl, I'm gonna… Shit, y-you gotta stop."

It took everything in Axl's power not to pout when he pulled back. Most guys could take being yanked around a little, but knew how important "stop" was here.

Jon was still panting when he got to his feet. 

"You alright there, Jonny?"

"Yeah… Yeah, of course."

Axl knew he was trying to play it cool, but it was hardly convincing with his red face and blown pupils. "Feeling better?"

"Oh, God, yes." It doesn't even cross Jon's mind that maybe he's being teased. He's too lightheaded to be anything but sincere.

"Good. So I guess we gotta figure out who's doing who, huh?" Axl grinned and hooked his fingers in the bottom of Jon's sweater. "It's your call, I'm down with just about anything."

"I-I need you in…" Jon looks down; he can't stand the eye contact. "Please."

"Of course." Axl tried to keep his face as innocent as possible. Part of him was drooling over the thought of stretching Jon out for the first time. The rest of him knew that was sick, but that didn't make him any less hard over it.

"Come here." He walked backwards towards his bed and led Jon along by the bottom of his sweater. He still looked so nervous, it made Axl wonder if he'd ever had sex with anyone. Ever. He had kids - Axl thought he had kids - so it must've happened at least once or twice, but man it sure as hell didn't seem like it. "You need a little more help calming down?"

"I… think I'm good." It's one of the only things Jon can think about, but he'll die if he finishes before he can get his pants off.

His senses are all going haywire. His eyes can only focus in on Axl. Can't hear anything but his breathing. The only thing he wants is to taste him again. He can't stand it.

Jon grabs Axl's sides and pulls him closer. He kisses down the other man's jaw then moves to his neck, latching on like it's water in a desert.

Axl groaned somewhere deep in his chest. "Fuck, man, that feels good." He started pulling Jon's sweater up at his shoulders. "Come on, handsome. Let me see you."

Jon pulls back enough to get his shirt off and let Axl take care of his. He just wants to get close again. It's like he's being touched for the first time. Ever. He feels like a nervous teenager again. Everything feels so innocent somehow, even while he's pulling at Axl's zipper.

Axl bristles when Jon brushes against his dick. He's almost panting. "Holy shit, dude, we gotta…" He takes a deep breath to steady himself. One of them has to at least pretend like he's in charge and Jon looks so much like a kid at his first sleepover, there's no way it's gonna be him. "Come here."

He hooks his thumbs in Jon's waistband and moves them both. Jon's up against his bed and Axl's standing over him, leaning him back like he wants to fold him. His knee ends up between Jon's legs, pushing them open. They're both so hard it's almost embarrassing.

Jon grabs his shoulders. He can feel Axl's breath blowing down his neck, down past his stomach. All the way down to the thing that got him here to begin with. He moves a hand up to grab Axl's face and pull him in for another kiss while the other man slips off his belt and pulls his pants all the way down to his knees. 

Axl slows down - not before he almost managed to rub a hole in his boxers - and pulls back enough to get a good look at Jon. The look in the other man's eyes makes him nervous. It's not full cornered prey animal like he'd already seen, but he looked spooked. "You feelin' alright? Wanna slow down or anything?"

Jon shakes his head a little too hard. "No. No, please, I'm- This is good."

"Alright." Axl smiles, for once without anything else behind it. He's still slow when he moves back in. He keeps his hands solidly above Jon's hips, just between his ribs and his bellybutton, while he trails kisses all across the other man's neck. He lets Jon do the work getting his jeans unbuttoned, then pushes him back further onto his bed. He doesn't get between Jon's legs just yet. "How's this?"

"Still… still good." Jon runs a hand down Axl's front just to be doing something. He can't tell if he's more jealous or intimidated by the shape he's still in after all of those years.

"So I guess we'd better…" Axl trails off. Just waits for the other man to catch his meaning.

"Yeah. Guess so." Jon nods. Was that weird?

Axl steals a few more kisses before he has to take over as the only one of the two of them who actually knows what he's doing. He takes a few more seconds to really look at the other man when he finally separates again. "Turn over for me."

Jon shakes his head. "No."

"I'm not being a creep, I promise. It's just easier to adjust."

"No, I need-" Jon almost chokes up. The way Axl pulls away just makes him feel even more pathetic. "I just have to be able to see you. I can't… I just need to."

Axl takes his hand. "Okay." It's not that hard to do it like this anyway. A little clumsy for a newbie, but it would be a shit move to let that get in the way of making sure he's okay. "We can make this work, it's no big deal. You're in charge, here. You're good."

Jon squeezes Axl's hand. He lets himself breathe. He's already screwed this up, he may as well. His chest is tight but he feels surprisingly okay. Definitely better than the breakdowns he has at home on bad nights.

"You're good. Take your time." Axl shifts as gently as he can so he's not touching anything but Jon's hand. After a second the other man looks up at him with mostly clear eyes. "There we go. You feeling better?"

"Yeah. I can… I mean, if you still want." He shrinks inside at how insecure that sounds.

"I'm good if you're good." The look in Jon's eyes tells me everything he needs to know. He slips between the other man's legs. Axl opens his drawer and pulls out lube and a condom and gets himself ready. He hooks an arm under one of Jon's legs and pushes it up a little while the other stays around his waist. Not so bad that it folds him in half, but enough to open him up a little. "Does that feel alright?"

Jon nods. He's too flustered to talk.

"You ready?"

Another nod.

Jon gasps when Axl pushes inside him. He's almost waiting for Axl to turn into his dad. But he doesn't. He grabs onto Axl's shoulder. Everything's burning in the best way possible. Like fireworks on New Year's. 

"Holy shit," Axl swears under his breath. Jon's so tight around him it almost hurts. "How's that?"

"Good," Jon chokes out. The stretch hurts, just a little, but the connection pushes it out of his mind completely. Something deeper inside of him is pleading to be touched. "More. G-God, please." It almost feels like he's praying.

"Alright." Axl picks up the pace a little. He watches Jon's face to make sure he's okay. His eyes are wide looking up at Axl. His voice comes out quite while he tries to adjust to the length. Axl knows he's not the biggest guy on the planet, but he's a lot for someone who hasn't taken anyone before.

Jon already feels like he's about to cum. He's so full and hard and lightheaded. Axl's still, deep inside him. "You gotta fuckin' move. I'm gonna pass out, man."

Axl stretches his free hand out and rests his arm over Jon's head. He just wants to be close. It takes everything he has to keep himself steady. He pulls out part way and sinks back in. He sets a steady pace. Not so slow it hurts - not Jon, anyway - but not drilling into him, either. 

"H-Holy… Keep doing that, Jesus." Jon can't stop the words or sounds falling out of him. His other hand rests on Axl's chest.

Axl can't keep his voice to himself either. He tries to keep it together, make sure he's being a little responsible, but fuck it, he's needy too. Soon enough he's moaning in Jon's ear almost like he's the one getting fucked. Lower, but he knows he sounds just as desperate. It takes everything in his power to keep himself steady. Jon's voice is just too pretty and his face is too sweet and innocent. Just watching him moaning and falling apart like no one's ever touched him before at all has him dangerously close to the edge. Straining his self control while he does everything he can to keep his pace.

Jon feels himself coming apart. Nothing's ever felt so good so deep inside him. He can't even talk when Axl asks when he's okay. He just answers with little nods and moans. His fingers dig into Axl's shoulder. His other arm wraps around his neck. Closer. He needs to be closer. Doesn't know if he wants Axl inside him or him inside Axl. Doesn't matter. They're basically tied in knots with each other anyway. He should be embarrassed by how loud he thinks he's getting but he isn't. He isn't anything other than needy and horny. So fucking horny.

"You feelin' close?"

Jon nods. Axl feels it too. Everything blurs together. They're both grabbing at each other. Moaning like virgins, Jon especially.

Axl tries to get back in control. He buries his free hand in Jon's hair. Presses his mouth to his ear. "That's it. Just let go. Fuck, this is good. You're good. Let go for me. Come on."

That was it.

Jon pulls Axl closer. He can't think. Can't breathe. Everything's just sounds and shapes and colors. He feels like he's in Heaven. Literally dead and in Paradise. He can't control himself. The tension snaps and his body floods with heat and he's just gone. Moaning whatever jumps out of his mouth. 

Axl groans like a whore when he cums. He's not even fazed when Jon whines "D-Dad, please" in his ear. He just rides out his orgasm, thrusting deep into the other man a few more times before finally slowing and stopping.

He looks so blissed out when Axl looks down at him. His eyes are just gone in the best way possible. Axl lets Jon's legs down and straddles his hips. "How you feelin'?"

Jon can barely hear. He already feels weird being so empty again. "I-I'm-" He just nods. Words are hard.

"Good." Axl shrugs Jon's hands off him and rolls onto his side. He can feel Jon's heart racing in his chest when he holds him close. Not that his is any better.

After a second Jon's eyes refocus and he starts to look around. He's still flying but he's also starting to get a little restless. These kinds of things always end a certain way. Not that he's exactly sure he can make it home without passing out.

"You don't have to go yet." Jon looks over, confused. "It's getting cold, you're probably too drunk to drive. Just stay." 

He nods, already half asleep. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Axl chucked his condom in the trash, then pulled his comforter over both of them. He buried his face in Jon's neck. All that sweat made his cologne kick up. 

Whiskey and leather.

It felt a little… manly for the softest guy to ever set foot in a Mötley Crüe concert, but it was nice. And it didn't take long to wrap around Axl and knock him out too.