Work Text:
February 2nd
Axl glared down at his guitarist sprawled on the pristine white couch, hair shielding his face from the light pouring in from the window. After a minute’s (or ten) hesitation, he slapped him roughly on the chest.
“Slash.”
The brunette groaned, waving his hand dismissively. “Go away.”
“Slash!” A lot louder this time. Frustrated, Axl yanked at Slash’s hair in an attempt to rouse him. “Get up.”
Dark brown eyes snapped open, a bit unfocussed, but open nonetheless. “What do you want?” He asked coldly, though his very tone suggested he didn’t want an answer.
The redhead sighed, “Why are you here?” He had given them very clear instructions last night, ‘I’m having company, don’t disturb me.’ Slash had obviously decided to barge in anyway, then subject himself to the tortures of the cramped couch.
“In our hotel room?” Slash’s brows flew almost to his hairline. “Because, I belong here?” Unlike that bitch.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jane (or was it Jada?) chose that exact moment to prop herself up on an elbow and peer sleepily at them.
“Axl? Why’re you up so early?”
And yeah, he was an asshole sometimes, but he wasn’t horrible enough to tell her to get the fuck out. She could at least have coffee. Then she could get the fuck out. “It’s really not that early.” He shot Slash a look, silently begging forgiveness for something he didn’t yet understand. ‘See, she’s leaving, it’s over’ It seemed to say.
Slash stared right back, frowning hard. Not a good sign.
“Oh.” He heard her shuffling about, looking for her clothes and shoes probably. He should definitely offer her coffee, or help her out, but Slash’s unreadable gaze held him in place. Axl’s skin prickled, but he refused to—not that he could—lower his gaze.
“Uhm, I guess I’ll be going.” Joni said, fully dressed and gaze shifting from Slash to Axl.
The redhead glanced at her, for a moment, shocked by her beauty. Her brown skin glowed in the early morning light, black curls falling around her face, hazel eyes still a bit foggy with sleep. “Yeah, I’ll walk you out sweetie.” Axl turned his charm to the highest level, flashing her a winning smile. “Want some coffee?” He really hoped she didn’t, he wasn’t in the mood.
Slash uttered a rude, bit off sound, crossing his arms over his chest. This was some Axlesque bullshit, as usual. He could see right through it.
Jessica flushed, lowering her eyes. “No, I’m good.” She could tell when she was no longer wanted. Honestly, she picked it up earlier from the cold glances Slash was shooting her backstage while Axl chatted her up. At one point, the guitarist had hissed something nasty under his breath to their drummer and stomped off—presumably to go get drunk. “I’ll see myself out.”
She was halfway towards the door when an idea struck her. Twirling a curl around her finger, she spun on her heels, biting her lower lip. “You were great last night, Axl.” Sure enough, he glanced quickly at Slash before replying confusion evident in his tone.
“Uhm thanks, it was good for me too.” He refused to acknowledge the little voice in his head dutifully pointing out his mind had been elsewhere through their whole encounter.
“Maybe your friend can join next time.” She jerked her chin towards Slash who had sunk further into the couch, that posture looked really bad on his back.
“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath.” He hissed, but Jessica was already on her way out, laughter grating on his already raw nerves even more. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, man.” He said into the awkward silence that followed.
“Slash, I told you to room with the others last night.” He tried to keep the whine from his voice. “When did you even get in?”
“Does it matter?” Slash sniped, wincing as he stood up. “Would you have cared?” Would you have left her? For me?
Axl’s mouth shut with a clack. He took in a shaky breath before trying again. “How’s your back?”
He shrugged. “About as good as you’d think.”
“Wanna… take the bed?” He had no idea why he felt like shit. It wasn’t his fault the stubborn beast decided to toss himself on the couch and sleep after clear instructions not to. Axl tried not to scrutinize the strange feeling in his chest. He wasn’t fucking guilty, he’s just mad Slash doesn’t listen. “You can still get a few hours in.”
Slash felt his earlier rage morph into something new. “How long are we here for?”
“As long as you want.” He said, against his better judgment (because no, they had to head off in a few), offering a Shaky smile.
“Yeah, man. That sounds good.” Slash didn’t smile back, but at least he wasn’t biting Axl’s head off anymore. He shuffled towards the bed, pausing to shuffle out of his leather pants. The redhead allowed his eyes to glimpse a sliver of skin before he was looking away, finding the view of New (a city he pretty much hated) very interesting.
Slash all but collapsed, welcoming the kiss of the fresh linen against his skin. He breathed deeply, chasing the scent of Axl—
The redhead watched puzzled as Slash drags himself from the bed and starts furiously ripping the sheets off, dumping them on the floor.
“What the hell man?”
Slash paused, flicking his wrists in a dismissive motion. “They smell like her perfume. Can’t sleep like that.” He said, crawling back into the now-purified bed.
Before he could stop himself, the “Sorry…” forced its way out, leaving Axl confused. What was he even apologizing for? Slash made no indication he had heard the apology, so the redhead left without another word.
---------
Izzy didn’t bother raising his head when Axl tumbled into his room.
“Why did Slash come back last night?” He asked.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I told him to room with someone else.” He continued, ignoring Izzy’s comment altogether. “So it’s not like it’s my fault that…”
“That what?”
Duff shifted beneath the sheets, “Is that Axl? It’s not even eight yet.”
“That he had to see Jada.” He cried, like it was obvious, ignoring Duff completely. “That he slept on the couch and fucked up his back.”
“Jada? You mean that chick that looks like Slash?” Izzy chuckled, curling closer to Duff who was acting as his human-heater. Duff giggled and elbowed him at that throwaway comment. “Her name’s Jessica man.”
“Whatever.” He cocked his head, eyeing his friends tangled in the sheets, trying to ignore Duff’s straying hand. “She looks like Slash?” Thinking back, she kinda did. Well, maybe her skin and eyes a little.
And hair… and she was pretty soft-spoken too.
The brunette started cackling like Axl had said something particularly hilarious; Duff shushed him, whispering something under his breath. Izzy paused, took one look at Axl’s face and quit laughing altogether.
“Woah, you’re serious? That was a serious question?”
Ok, he was no Albert Einstein, but he wasn’t dumb, though he sure felt like it right now. What the fuck was he missing. “Well, yeah.”
“You didn’t notice Jessica looked a lot like Slash?” He asked incredulously. “You didn’t notice that chick back in Chicago had curly hair? Same skin tone? Shit man, she had a pet snake.”
Duff snorted, “Even Evrin, man. Brunette, curly hair, dark yes…”
Axl struggled to keep his ‘I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about’ mask in place, but with every word the picture got clearer and clearer. He wasn’t prepared to deal with this shit.
“That’s bullshit.” He said, slowly backing towards the door. Izzy just looked at him, grey eyes saying so much. Axl didn’t want to know. “I’m gonna go get breakfast.”
Duff’s voice, tinged with amusement, followed him out, “Just think about it man.”
February 4th
He was getting sick of this shit.
And if Izzy’s vaguely amused expression was anything to go by, he had noticed it too.
Axl was totally fucking with him, as always.
They had performed earlier, and everything seemed, well, normal. Axl danced around the stage, licking his lips, swiveling his hips, running his hands through his hair (all the while removing an article of clothing every few minutes)—the usual shit that drove Slash crazy. And to top it all off, somewhere in the middle of all the theatrics, Axl had snuck up behind him (or maybe he didn’t, Slash was kinda high) and glued his body to him, curling his arm around Slash’s neck.
He’s ashamed of how quickly his body reacted, even against his better instincts, maybe Axl had finally decided to stop fucking around. Maybe he had finally decided to act on the stolen glances, touches (even fucking kisses, but he doubted Axl remembered that night). So, of course, he relaxed into it, stomach flipping, head lolling unto Axl’s shoulder—he could smell his cologne, it reminded him of all the times they woke up, curled around each other, heart beats in sync, and um.. Other body parts showing interest in their proximity (this usually led to Axl rolling away and avoiding his eyes for the rest of the day).
So yeah, he had jumped at the first sign that Axl had decided to stow the bullshit and give them a try, and when he felt Axl’s hardness pressing right up against him, he had silently thanked the Gods for Les Paul, because their manager would have ripped them new assholes with a lecture about ‘time and place’ and ‘appropriate behavior’. Sue him. He had to put up with this fucker grinding on him like he was dying to be fucked onstage.
Duff had winked at him, wiggling his eyebrows comically, and the concert couldn’t end fast enough.
So imagine his surprise when Axl had went on like nothing happened back stage, when he had the audacity to go talk to some brunette bitch, avoiding looking at Slash. The redhead was currently whispering something into some Brunette’s ear, she giggled, shifting so she was practically in his lap.
Slash hadn’t realized he was growling till Izzy nudged him gently, “Please stop looking at her like you want to decapitate her.” Izzy offered him a beer, plopping next to him and considering him carefully. “You ok, man?”
“What do you think?” Axl’s hand had slipped under her shirt now, and Slash hadn’t realized he was crushing the beer can till he felt some of the cold liquid run over his hand. Great.
Izzy sighed deeply, taking a sip of his drink before speaking. “I swear he’s not usually this dense.”
“I thought he wanted…” Slash trailed off, licking his lips and lowering his eyes. “Is he playing with me? Is this a fucking joke?”
He’s relieved by how sure of himself the brunette sounds. “No.” Izzy leaned closer to him, lowering his voice. “He just… he doesn’t know.”
“Bullshit.” Slash all but roared, drawing blue-green eyes to him—sure enough, they quickly darted away. “There’s no way he can’t know.” Axl was a bit hard-headed at times, but there was no way he could be this clueless.
“Trust me, he’s an idiot. Just be patient with him.” Was all Izzy said before patting him on the back and taking off to chat with Duff. If Slash was being honest with himself, he was a bit jealous of those two, of how easy it seemed for them.
The universe was having a field day with his torment, the girl said something to Axl and the redhead made quick work of the distance between the couch and the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Slash was pissed. Maybe he should ignore Axl for the rest of the month, even on his birthday, just to see how he liked being fucked with. The brunette sighed, curling in on himself even more. He’d never do that. No matter how pissed he was.
--------
It was happening again, without his fucking permission.
Not that it ever waited for his permission, though it would be the fucking polite thing to do. But of course, his head doesn’t give a single shit about being polite. It is instead content to drag him through a spiral of filthy thoughts about his friend, usually at the most inopportune times.
Especially now that he’s balls deep in someone’s daughter trying to think of anyone but Slash. Hell, he had a willing, beautiful body beneath him, alive and expressive—but here he is, trying to drown out her moans with images of Slash.
“Axl, I’m close.” She said, scratching at his back, damp lips slightly parted.
He mentally handed himself a cookie for still being great, even while on autopilot.
Fuck this, it’s my birth month, I should enjoy it while it lasts. Just give myself over to it.
That was possibly the worse decision he had ever made, because giving himself over to it, loosening his iron grip on his thoughts could only lead to bad things.
He was thrusting into her tight heat, wondering briefly (against his will of course) if Slash would feel different, tighter maybe. The lady was screaming now, clinging to him for dear life, and he wondered if Slash would sound different, of course he would. Maybe he was quiet, maybe he was a talker—yeah, that was more fitting.
He could almost see it, Slash’s perfect lips moving as he spewed filth into Axl’s ear, how much he wanted him, how good he felt inside him, how much he loved him.
That was all it took to ruin everything, just a stray though forcing its way into his head, making him want things he couldn’t have. That and the fact that her hair was just the right shade, her curls just the right length and her eyes dark and alluring.
He grabbed her hips, digging his nails into the pale skin and thrusting with renewed fervor. She mewled, shaking apart around him, making it just that much tighter, and fuck it, he gave up.
“Fuck, Slash.” He muttered mindlessly, tensing and spilling into the condom. He was somewhere between catching his breath and panicking about using images of his close friend to get off when the girl (he really should have asked her name) spoke.
“Who’s Slash?” She said, playing with a strand of his hair. “Is it the Slash I think you’re talking about? Your guitarist?”
What the fuck had he just done? “No.” He snapped, grabbing her wrist and removing her hand from his hair. “You should start getting dressed.”
She rolled her eyes, smirking knowingly. “I didn’t know you swung that way, Mr.Rose. You guys having a fight or something?”
“I don’t. You didn’t hear nothin’.” He managed to force out through his teeth, sliding out of bed and begging the hunt for his pants. Anywhere in the Midwest, people could read the ‘leave it the fuck alone and mind your own business’ in the subtitles—but this was the fucking big city, people here were dumber than they looked and that was new levels of stupid.
“You said his name, while you were—” She blundered on while shimmying into her dress, not noticing the redhead was slamming a lot more things than he needed to around while looking for his clothes. Why would his pants be under the ashtray?
“Just get out, please.” He was supposed to be having a good time, this was not a fucking good time. He felt drained and confused, he hadn’t really acknowledged this little—whatever the hell it was—between them, and he sure wasn’t going to now.
“Ok.” She pulled her curls into a messy bun, giving Axl a long hard look. “We kinda look alike, don’t ya think? I could be his little sister.”
He looked at her for the first time tonight, cringing at what he saw. He hadn’t even realized he was doing this, just like Duff said he was. Was he completely transparent? Could everyone tell he was some sort of fucked up? Fuck, did Slash know?
“Night. I hope you sort out whatever this is.” Mystery girl chuckled at his expression, shaking her head before showing herself out.
Axl couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck he was supposed to do about it now that he had acknowledged it. Just how did he want this to work out anyway? One thing was for certain, Slash could not find out, ever.
-------
Slash watched her slink out of Axl’s room, lipstick smudged, curls in disarray. Well, at least now the bed was free, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep on it after whatever the fuck just happened. But the alternative would be rooming with Izzy and Duff who couldn’t keep their paws off each other for more than a second.
“Slash,” He’s surprised when she talked to him, expecting her to offer him a ride too—which he would refuse. “You should talk to your fearless leader, he’s half out of his mind.”
Ok, nothing he didn’t already know.
“With what this time?”
She smiled, and he noticed for the first time that she looked a lot like him, if not a bit on the pale side and… well… female. “You’ll see.”
Duff decided to reemerge for wherever he and Izzy had jammed themselves and sauntered over to join him just as she was walking away. “What’s up with that?”
“I don’t know.” Slash replied, swiping Duff’s beer from his hand, just because he’s still a bit bitter about his relationship.
They stood there in comfortable silence for a while, before Slash had about enough. “How long do you think he’s gonna fuck people who could pass for my doppelgangers?”
The blonde choked on air for about a minute before responding. “Oh, uhm... you er… noticed too, huh?”
“Haven’t we all?” Slash said drolly, taking a sip of Duff’s beer.
“Everyone except him, apparently.” Or he refused to—the hardheaded prick.
Slash sighed deeply, why did he have to fall for the most thickheaded man in this sector of the universe. Ola would laugh at his luck.
----------
February 6th
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY AXL!”
When he walked into his hotel room, he didn’t expect to see his band mates in ridiculous hats. Nor did he expect to see glitter all over his fucking room and balloons everywhere, and what the fuck, were those girls strippers? He specifically asked for no party this year, but obviously his friends were nothing if not stubborn as all hell.
Ok, maybe he had gone against Duff’s wishes and done the same thing yesterday (with twice as much glitter and strippers) but hey, when he said it, he actually meant it. No parties.
“What the fuck?” He said, because Steven had stumbled over and dumped a handful of glitter over his head. He would have been angrier but it just so happened that silver glitter looked lovely with his red hair and pale skin— he shook out the excess glitter, admiring his reflection in the mirror.
“Happy birthday, we got you all the stuff you love! Even if you told us to not fucking push our luck.” The blonde hiccupped, waving clumsily around his crowded room which really had only about ten people. Well, at least they didn’t go all out like last year, because Axl got so annoyed he lit the cake on fire (well the table, but you get the idea). Everyone had to be evacuated, which was just what he had wanted. Duff covered the damages since it was his idea in the first place. “We got strippers, cake, booze, coke and voila! Slash.”
Axl really wanted to protest (and somehow stall the blush rising in his cheeks—fuck he just had to be pale as sin, huh) but one look at Slash shut him up.
Jesus Fuck.
He didn’t know just who squealed about how much of a thing he had for leather, but Slash went all out –or whoever dressed him did, he got the sinking feeling a certain gypsy had something to do with it—leather boots, leather jeans, leather jacket and a fitted shirt that was on the right side of too tight (because clearly someone wanted him dead). Axl wanted to run out screaming and yelling the whole way back to the lobby and out to the bus, because that was clearly the only way he was maintaining any type of sanity—if he got as far away as possible from the fucking tease.
Steven clapped him on the back, taking his silence for approval. “Have fun, man! You’re one year closer to your inevitable end.” The smile on his face did not compliment such a statement, but fuck, Axl would take it.
Popcorn was one scary drunk.
Axl went through the motions of greeting the half naked strippers (who seemed very happy to see him), Izzy and Duff gave him presents of grade-A cocaine (he was gonna flush it anyway, but it’s the thought that counts), Slash was talking animatedly to some girl—no he wasn’t jealous—so Axl used that as an excuse to settle at the furthest side of the room and get properly smashed—his sole mission in life.
Somewhere during his mission, he actually started having fun. He had no idea how they got the hotel to ignore the obnoxious amount of noise coming from this room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Izzy put on ‘A little less conversation’—his fucking jam, thank you very much—and he of course had to start dancing like an idiot.
One second he was going with the flow of Elvis’ voice and the next he was colliding with someone’s chest—a very nice chest from the feel of it.
“How long are you gonna feel me up? At least buy me dinner first.” The chest said, or that’s what it felt like. It sounded really amused; he could only guess that rumbling sound was some sort of laughter.
Axl froze, lowering his hand slowly. He knew that voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Real smooth.” The brunette snorted, gently helping Axl upright. “Happy birthday, Red.”
The redhead found it ever difficult to breathe for a second, because glitter also looked really good with Slash’s dark curls. Fuck, was he wearing glitter eye shadow too? Axl was supposed to be the glam one.
“Thank you.” He slurred, because Slash sounded sincere and his chest was feeling tight all of a sudden. It was hard to say anything else.
“I have a gift for you. I’m not sure if I can give it to you now…”
“Is it dick?” Axl hoped he wasn’t imagining the seductive undertone in that voice. Was he? He couldn’t tell, Slash had really nice eyes, if you looked closely you could see they were some sorta hazel. But dark. Kinda like his skin, which was cool. Fuck he was drunk. And he had just said something very embarrassing.
Slash quirked a brow, smiling so widely Axl begun to worry. “No, not dick—unless you want that.” He did. “What I meant was, I’m not sure I can give you now while you’re drunk off your ass and liable to spill beer all over it.”
Why would he spill beer over dick?
The guitarist took one look at Axl’s perplexed expression and rolled his eyes, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He pulled away.
“No wait.” Axl blurted, because he was drunk and stupid and also because someone started playing Bee Gees (the DJ was all over the place—oh wait, it was Izzy, that explained a lot). “Dance with me.” Because dancing to ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ alone was just plain sad, he couldn’t afford to appear sad at his own party, could he?
Slash hesitated, “You sure you won’t freak out about this in the morning?”
And ok, that sorta hurt. He wasn’t gonna freak out about dancing with his friend, he didn’t care if he was a guy. “I’ve danced with guys before.” He pointed out, because he felt he had to. He wasn’t a homophobe, despite what the press thought.
The guitarist grinned and Axl’s eyes are drawn to his lips again. Those were perfect lips. They’d probably taste perfect too, he should check—for science. “You mean Izzy.”
Axl flushed, wrapping his hands around Slash’s neck, jolting when Slash’s hands settled on his hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Slash shrugged, “Exactly what I said.” And he still sounded amused, but Axl had no time to pursue the topic because Slash was swaying gently to the music (which meant he was too) and Axl forgot all about bickering and let himself go.
It was nice, nicer than he thought it would be—not that he thought about slow dancing with Slash or anything—even in his state he could tell Slash was actually pretty graceful.
Of course he’s good at everything. Could he not have just stuck to being a master guitarist?
And you may not think I care for you
When you know down inside that I really do
And it’s me you need to show how deep is your love.
Axl sighed, resting his head on Slash’s shoulder; he was so fucking sick of songs calling him out. He was too drunk to deal with feelings. Slash held him tighter, like he was trying to say something too, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
Izzy nudged Duff, jerking his head in their direction. “How about we keep the slow love songs coming for, say, the entire night?”
“You are a very bad man.” Duff muttered, even as he scrolled through his playlist—he had an even better idea. “But I think we need to give them an extra push.”
“You are not doing what I think you’re doing.”
Hey, hey mama, said the way you move,
Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.
The bassist grinned, sitting back to enjoy the show. “I very well am.”
“Ok but you’re dealing with the fallout.” Izzy mumbled, trying to hide his smile in Duff’s neck. Some girl was draped over their laps, no complaints there, she was fine, scantily clad and more than willing to be there—why fight it?
“If Axl plays his cards right, there won’t be a fallout.”
Axl didn’t remember much from there on out, except one second he was having a perfectly romantic dance with his bro (platonically of course), and the next everyone was practically grinding on each other, seriously was it the alcohol or the weed (or that line of coke he did for good luck—he dumped the rest, promise), because time wasn’t making much sense.
There was some girl running her hands all over Slash, his jacket was gone somewhere, and Axl could make out her shiny red nails trailing down his biceps which made him angrier than he should have been. He almost forgot about the girl pressing her full breasts into his back (where did his shirt go?) rubbing against him like she would absolutely die if his skin wasn’t on hers. He almost forgot because he was too busy trying to get as close as possible to the guitarist, a hand on his slender waist, trying to hold the man still as he circled his hips to the filthy fuck of Page’s guitar solo.
Another guitar god Axl would be totally ok with banging.
God, did he have a little fetish?
Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Slash slipped a hand down to his buttocks, squeezing them gently—Axl didn’t have half a mind to be embarrassed at the lewd moan he uttered, because that felt good, and he only had to pretend to be mad when he was sober, right now he could just be him. It was his birthday damnit, he could at least have his one wish. That one wish included getting his mouth on Slash’s cock—which he could very well feel through those sinful pants, thank you.
“You sure about that, Red?” Slash breathed, and Axl struggled to keep up with whatever was happening.
“Sure about what?”
Slash huffed, “Do try to keep up, Red. I’m almost certain you just propositioned me.”
Oh yeah. Axl flushed, as much as he could with all his blood rushing south anyway. “Remind me.” He just didn’t know when to stop, did he?
“You said something about getting that mouth of yours on my dick.” He said this calmly, tilting Axl’s face upwards, forcing those baby-blues to his dark eyes. “So did I hear right?”
It was either his pants got smaller or his dick got a whole lot harder at that sentence. “Why wouldn’t it be the other way around?” Aw hell, he’d never taken it this far, not that he could remember anyway.
Slash pulled away just enough to give him this long look, the redhead swallowed hard—ok, that was his answer.
He tried a different route. “Ok but, what if the answer was a yes?” He croaked, adjusting himself subtly, or not so subtly, he didn’t give a fuck.
The song came to an end, but someone was out for Axl tonight, because lo and behold, the fucking lemon song was up next.
“I’d say get to work.”
That was all the confirmation he needed, he wanted everyone out, it was his room damnit. But, apparently the party wasn’t over yet. A quick scan for Izzy and Duff found them making out while two chicks went down on them—which was cute in a way, he expected a lot more jealousy and fighting but, whatever.
“Bathroom.”
He practically hauled Slash away from those girls, stumbling over himself to get to the bathroom as fast as possible. Once the door was closed (he didn’t even bother to check the lock), Axl manhandled Slash till he was on the couch (you had to love these five star hotels and how much they wasted money on unnecessary shit).
“Not even a kiss?” Slash mumbled, lashes fluttering as he watched Axl drop to his knees. The fucker wasn’t even helping him out, at least get your pants open.
The redhead froze, eyes darting up to Slash’s lips. He wanted to, but that would make this even more. And it wasn’t more. He was just having a little fun—after all, Slash was his present, it was only right for him to get a taste. “One thing at a time, Slasher.”
Slash looked about ready to laugh again, “Ok.”
Axl grumbled under his breath even as he reached for Slash’s zipper. “You shouldn’t poke fun at someone about to put your dick in their mouth.” He breathed, then lost his train of thought because jesus fuck, finally.
It wasn’t the pants or anything Axl might’ve chalked it up to in the past, “Fuck.”
“It’s a bit much for beginners.” He drawled, sounding way too collected for someone with a hand on his cock.
“I’ve sucked dick before.” He snapped, rubbing under the head, grinning at Slash’s sharp intake of breath.
Slash regained his composure quickly, batting Axl’s hand away and stroking himself languidly. “Let me guess, Izzy.”
Axl licked his lips, aware his face was burning ten shades hotter, “Maybe.” He said softly, annoyed he was acting so shy.
“Want a little instruction?”
“Yes.” He breathed, expecting to hate the idea of someone telling him what to do, but God, with Slash it was a whole other ballgame.
Slash smirked and Axl swore he felt it in his stomach somehow, heat simmering low in his belly. “Come closer.”
Axl obeyed, resting his sweaty palms on Slash’s leather-clad thighs—fuck, again with the leather thing—heart going a mile per minute. Axl was well aware he made some noise that should never be repeated when Slash trailed the slick head of his cock across his lips, grinning at whatever he saw in Axl’s eyes. “Open up.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Slash growled when Axl’s sinfully pink lips fell open, he didn’t even register surging forward and closing his lips around the head. Slash grabbed his chin and Axl grunted softly, “I didn’t say move. You’re shit at following orders aren’t you?”
The redhead squirmed, aware his pants were noticeably stickier than they had been when the party started. The guitarist ran a large hand through his tangled locks, “Fine, go ahead. I’ll help you when you need it.”
That was probably the best thing he had heard all night. Sighing softly, he took Slash into his mouth, admiring the thick, earthy scent of him that was definitely male, not that the cock in his mouth could be mistaken for anything else.
The guitarist watched him, the obscene stretch of those lips around his length, the way his hair tumbled around him (he should probably be helping with that, but it was fun to watch him struggle). Axl tongued the underside of his dick, pulling off to prod at the slit with his tongue, moaning when more precum dribbled unto his tongue.
This was not how he thought he’d spend his birthday, or maybe it was, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
Slash was right about it being too much—another thing he’d never admit to—he took Slash in again, feeling empty and hating every second of it, hollowed his cheeks and went until the head of Slash’s cock hit the back of his throat.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and Slash took pity on him finally, pulling him off by his hair.
“Easy.” Still with that faint thread of amusement.
“Fuck you.” Oh shit, his voice a little ruined.
“I bet you’d love that.” And he would have totally replied if not for Slash feeding him his cock. Axl got the idea he was no longer in control of anything, not that he had been in the beginning.
Fuck it, he could live a little.
He stopped thinking so much, let Slash control how fast he wanted it, how deep he wanted to go, slackened his mouth when told to—“easy, just breathe”— getting off as much as he was on this. By the time Slash growled long and deep, spilling in his mouth, pulling out just to soil his lips with a few stray drops of cum.
Axl couldn’t stop himself from swallowing, greedily licking his lips. Slash swore a blue streak, things that would make a sailor blush and that was way hotter than it should have been. Axl ran his shaking fingers across his puffy lips, hips jerking against the air. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
“C’mere babe.” Axl’s heart did an odd little jump at that, and he didn’t even want to consider what that could mean. He crawled into Slash’s lap (when had he zipped his pants up?), burning with the need to touch—fuck anything would be enough at this moment.
“You ok?” Slash asked, stroking his sweaty hair tenderly even as Axl squirmed, rubbing himself against his thighs, desperately seeking friction. “I’ll take that as a yes.” And that was the second most infuriating sentence that had ever come from those lips, so Axl decided to kiss him—for science—and to shut him up of course.
Not for any other reason.
He really shouldn’t have, because that just made everything more complicated, and suddenly it wasn’t just fun anymore, this thing between them was real and all consuming—Christ he should have known. He squirmed closer, shamelessly chasing his own orgasm, nails digging into Slash’s arms, breaths mingling. “Oh God, I’m—fuck—Slash.”
Axl felt strong hands kneading his ass—and he had no idea he would like something like that— swatting him a little, encouraging him to rut against him like some kind of animal, he’d die of embarrassment in the morning but right now his brain was wiped clean by the force of his orgasm.
Slash held him close, soothing him as he shook through it, another thing he never knew he needed. The brunette refused to let him go, even when Axl went completely boneless and pliant in his arms. Best party ever.
The guitarist chuckled at that, “I’m glad. I still haven’t given you your gift.”
Why the fuck was he still burying his face in Slash’s neck like this was normal? Like he belonged there? “That orgasm didn’t count?” He grumbled, and now that he was talking he realized that yes, his voice was indeed fucked.
“Well, I got you more expensive things so...” Slash murmured, rubbing Axl’s back. The redhead made a soft, satisfied sound and snuggled closer. God, he could get used to this.
He was drifting off, hiding beneath the mass of Slash’s hair when he heard the brunette ask him something.
“Yeah, I love you too.” He mumbled, because that was the only true answer he ever wanted to give.
---------
February 7th
The first thing Axl did when he woke up was stumble to the bathroom and hurl.
The second thing he did was take note of the fact that he was:
a) not in his room
b) in different clothes
c) still covered in glitter
Groaning he shuffled, not unlike a zombie, back to the bed, noticing the Gatorade and aspirins on the bedside table. God, whoever did this was clearly an angel, he could kiss them. Since he was in the mood for noticing things, he finally spotted the package with a bow placed just where he would see it.
Oooh presents?
Humming happily despite his headache, Axl reached for the package which was quite heavy, a book maybe? He unwrapped it carefully, hands trembling, gasping softly when he finally got the box open.
He was gonna pass out, or cry, or cry till he passed out. The First Edition, signed version of “The Stand” by Stephen King, one of his favorite novels of all time. The uncut version too, he was scared to touch it, maybe it would disappear? The solid weight on his lap seemed very real, but who could really tell? Opening the cover, he realized it was the forty-second copy—there were only around twelve hundred in existence, all signed by Mr. King himself and the illustrator.
God, how had Slash even remembered this? Yes, he had mentioned it a million times over in interviews—how much he loved the book, how it changed the way he looked at things—but who the hell listened to him ramble on anyway?
Slash, apparently. Fuck, this must have cost around four grand, which wasn’t much for them—but kinda expensive for one fucking book.
More than he deserved.
Axl had no idea how to ever thank him. This was beyond thoughtful. God he had already fallen, hadn’t he?
“I’m so fucked.” He whispered with feeling.
And that was before he remembered their little bathroom incident. He did the polite thing and smothered his screams in the pillow.
February 8th
Slash was startled out of his sleep when Axl wormed his way into his bunk, breathing fast and hard. Probably a bit on the tipsy side by the looks of it.
The guitarist blinked the sleep from his eyes. “What the actual fuck—?”
“Thank you. For the gift. It was the best thing I’ve ever gotten in my life, thank you so much.” Axl mumbled, leaning forward to kiss Slash’s cheek.
(Wow. That took him a whole day to plan.)
Then he was gone, leaving a confused, sleepy guitarist in his wake.
February 9th
Axl shuffled around their dressing room, snatching bangles and rings that’d carry off his look (to be fair, Duff’s jewellery totally suited him better). He could feel his hair standing on edge, he had felt it for a while now, and that probably had something to do with a certain brunette sprawled in the couch staring at him like the back of his neck had all the solutions to the universe’s problems.
If this were any other day, he would have faced him head on, and sassed the ever-loving fuck out of the guitarist for his troubles. But the whole ‘birthday party’ incident was still fresh in his mind and there was no way in hell he could look Slash in the eyes.
Yeah, call him a coward if you wanted to, but he preferred the word ‘sensible’. He couldn’t win any sort of argument with a man he had more or less rubbed off on a few nights back—his fragile pride couldn’t take it.
The problem with this strategy was that, the couch was right next to the exit, he needed to turn around and face Slash if he wanted to get out of here.
Fuck it, they didn’t need to go onstage that badly, besides, he could always just wait him out. He had to leave some time right?
Wrong.
Duff left first, and of course that meant Izzy followed even though Axl telepathically begged his gypsy-ass to stay put and offer him the emotional support he needed. No dice.
The redhead prayed to whatever deity in existence that Slash would follow suit, but the man seemed content to just fucking sprawl there in that indecent manner with his legs spread wide enough for Axl to see things—things he definitely wasn’t looking at in the mirror, no siree.
“You gonna stay in here all night? Or are you gonna turn around? I mean the view is great but…” Slash drawled, sounding way too amused for Axl’s liking. Axl would’ve punched him, if he could bring himself to face him. He could just close his eyes, right? But he feels like an idiot—even a bigger one than he already was.
Axl’s face flamed, no he was not rising to that bait. He was a strong independent vocalist who didn’t need to fight it out with his guitarist. “Are you? Shouldn’t you be warming up?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
The fucking nerve of this man.
Axl silently counted to three, steeled himself and turned to look Slash in the eyes. His first mistake. “I hope you don’t fuck up tonight.”
Slash chuckled darkly, and that just irked Axl more. “You mean like the last time you lost your voice halfway through a show?” The brunette watched Axl sputter for a few moments, searching in vain for some kind of witty reply. “So how long are we gonna do this? Play your little game, that is.”
The redhead tried to take ten steps back for every one Slash took towards him, which was of course impossible since his back was pressed against his vanity—god fucking damnit, why was this room so laughably small? Were they fucking hobbits or something?
“Do what?” He croaked, despite his better senses. He could feel Slash’s heat, the man was so close he could smell his dumb shampoo (that Axl kinda liked just a little), so close Slash could probably hear his heartbeat. Too close. He brought his hands up to Slash’s chest, intending to push him away, but the guitarist captured them with laughable ease.
“How long are you gonna pretend you don’t want me?” He whispered, leaning in till his curls tickled Axl’ skin. “I mean, it was kinda fun at the start, but you’re driving me crazy.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He squeaked in his best ‘I’m totally not thinking about your dick right now’ voice. He thought he did a really good job, considering the circumstances.
Slash, not so much.
Slash rolled his eyes, using his grip to pull Axl just that much closer. It was easier now that he redhead wasn’t even pretending to resist. “That’s quite a bold statement coming from someone who swallowed my cum like it was the best tasting—”
That was probably the worse time to instinctively lick his lips, chasing the phantom taste of Slash. The brunette growled low in his throat, fingers flexing around Axl’s wrists and he was not getting even the slightest bit hard, ok? That’d be strange and totally against his cause.
Wait, what was it again?
Oh yeah, he’s not imagining his very good friend bending him over the goddamn vanity and running his hair and makeup—
“Guys, we need you, You’re on in five.” God existed. And he was looking out for Axl, obviously. Slash snorted and released him, stepping away and suddenly it was so cold. He rubbed at his tingling wrists (when did his life become a fucking Harlequin romance novel?) as he watched Slash grab his guitar and leave.
“We’ll talk about this later.” That was more of a promise than a threat.
-----
February 11th
Duff blinked at Axl who was trying to immerse himself in his book, squirming and trying to react to the intense look Slash’s was giving him. “Stevie, is Axl… avoiding Slash?”
The drummer glanced up, snorting. “When isn’t he?”
That was fair, but something was different.
“It probably has something to do with those noises we heard in the bathroom that night.” Izzy said, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Wait, what?” Maybe all these years in a rock band was fucking up his hearing.
“They stumbled off together during the party.” Izzy said in that dry tone only he could pull off. “Slash came out carrying him bridal style.”
“What.”
“Oh yeah…” Steven chirped. “He took him to his room, since we were all still partying.” And ok, that was the moment Duff realized it was bad. Steven had picked up on something he had not.
“Where was I?”
“Eating my face.” Izzy teased, giggling at Duff’s exasperated groan.
He just hoped they figured it out.
----------
February 12th
Axl was going out of his mind, not because he was aware of Slash’s gaze on him at all times, or the fact that he kept waking up hard and wanting for dreams of guess who. Not even because Izzy was shooting him these cool, knowing glances. But because his emotions were screwed.
See, if this were only sex, that’d be easy. He could sleep his way across America leaving a trail of broken hearts and somehow manage to not give a single fuck in the process. Mean, douchey, shitty, call it what you will. He called it being smart—emotions could fuck you up, that was clear after Stephanie, because that was the greatest fuck up of all. Or so he thought, because this thing—whatever it was—had the potential to be even bigger than Stephanie. Somewhere along the line, since Appetite, and Live like a Suicide, and UYI, and all that fucking shit, he slipped, fell and has not been able to get up ever since.
He fell in love.
Gross, yes, but true.
Now that he realized, he could finally see what everyone else saw. He was trying to find Slash in every single person he dated, whether he liked it or not. If Duff and Izzy knew, that was no big deal. But Steven knew too, and that meant everyone and their dogs knew—even Slash.
He wasn’t sure what Slash wanted him to do about it though. Ruin their friendship with his stupid feelings, or continue searching until he found someone just like Slash who wasn’t Slash.
The latter was the most appealing.
----------
February 13th
Slash had just about enough when Axl decided to saunter off to his room with some groupie that was hanging backstage. Usually, this was nothing new, but when Slash realized he would rather drag a strange man to his room than talk about his feelings for once, he snapped.
“Uh, Slash, maybe you shouldn’t see him till you calm down?” Steven yelled after him, struggling to keep up with his strides. “I mean, I’ve never seen you mad, but you look pretty mad. Fire and gasoline, man.”
“You should leave.” Was all the reply the blonde got as he finally approached the bedroom door.
“Man, think about it—”
Duff would very much like their drummer alive and well, thank you, and judging by the look Slash was giving him, Steven wouldn’t be alive much longer. “Steven, I think you should get out of his way.”
“Yeah, that’s probably best.” Izzy added, yanking Steven away just as Slash threw the door open. This was gonna be bad.
Axl jumped at the ruckus, scrambling away from James when he noticed it was fucking Slash of all people. His dick didn’t seem to care, in fact it was twice as interested now.
“You.” The guitarist scowled at James. “Get the fuck out.” Axl was trying not to look at the way his jaw was doing the thing, he totally wasn’t focusing on the low growling sound the guitarist was emitting. Fucking hell, how was this his life now?
The brunette glanced at Axl, then back to Slash. What kind of fucking soap opera set did he walk unto? “What? But he invited me—”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
James might have been horny, but he wasn’t suicidal, he grabbed his shirt and left the room without another word.
The redhead was in his boxers, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the carpet. They were silent for a while, at least until Slash slammed the door so hard Axl jumped.
“Why the fuck are you doing this?”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t fucking start with me.” Ok, maybe Slash wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit today. “You know damn well what I mean. Why the fuck would you say and do things like that then walk away like it means nothing?”
Axl flinched, hesitating for a while longer than necessary. “Slash… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t even know if…”
Slash forced himself to take deep calming breaths. “You don’t know what?”
“If you feel the same way.” He stated, voice suspiciously devoid of emotion. “I mean, we’re good friends right, and it’d be completely stupid to fuck up—”
Slash laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Know what’s completely stupid? You are, Axl.”
The redhead sputtered, aiming for indignant and missing it by a mile. “I’m not.” But yeah, even he had to admit Slash was right. “I mean, I practically confessed some embarrassing shit and then you just tuck me into bed—you weren’t even there when I woke up—and never brought it up again?” That felt a bit like rejection.
The guitarist dropped unceremoniously unto the bed next to him, “Yeah. Right. Cause I buy expensive gifts for people I hate. You realize you gave no indication you would be okay to waking up next to me, right?”
Axl stared at him blankly, because that was some bullshit if he had ever heard any. “I said I loved you.”
Slash blinked. “What?”
Fuck. So the one time he thought he said something out loud, it was just in his head? “I- I said it, while I was drifting off. I remember—”
“Axl, I couldn’t make out what you were mumbling. You were drunk, and barely making any sense I might add.” Slash protested, sitting up to get a good view of his face. “You really think I could have heard something like that and not mention it.”
Silence.
“Fucking Christ, you did.” Izzy was right as always, Axl was dense.
“Well what was I supposed to think? I said it, and you didn’t and I just freaked out, ok.” He grumbled, socking Slash in the shoulder when he started laughing like this was the funniest thing he’d heard all year.
Ok, maybe it was a little funny, now that it was sorted out.
“I love you too, man. Thick skull and all—everyone else knows but you apparently.” Slash whispered, pulling Axl into a hug. “Christ, you thought I remembered you ranting about your favorite book for show? I ought to put you over my knee.”
“Maybe you should.” He suggested, before he could stop himself, and maybe because being seeing angry Slash up close was doing things for him.
He could almost feel the subtle shift in Slash, and he shuddered at the thought. “Would you like that?”
“Yeah.” He whispered, cheeks burning at the little confession. “Maybe a little. I’ve never…” Slash was quiet for a while, and Axl could only listen to his breathing, eyes squeezed shut while he waited for a reply.
“Strip.”
That’s all he ever wanted to hear.
Axl was on his feet and shimmying out of his boxers like they had offended him, caught between wanting this to last forever and wanting to get off as quickly as possible. He could feel Slash’s eyes on him, trailing from his flushed face to his erect cock.
“I guess you liked all that yelling, who’d’ve thought?”
The redhead wanted to sass, but everything inside him was advising him not to, not when Slash was stalking towards him, predatory and dangerous.
“On the bed. Present yourself for me.”
Axl surprised himself by how quickly he moved, kneeling, back arched obscenely. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, he buried his blush in the pillow, feeling the burn of Slash’s eyes on him. He felt the bed sink under Slash’s weight, and squirmed a little. What the fuck was he thinking? He could just imagine how he looked.
“Just five to start off, ok? Tell me to stop whenever you want.”
“Ten.” He said, because he really wouldn’t be Axl if he didn’t push his luck a little.
The guitarist grinned fondly. “Fine.”
Slash was done wasting time, maybe they could take it slow later, when they had all the time in the world, Axl was his, but now wasn’t the time. He’d wanted this for so long, for what seemed like forever. He raked his nails across Axl’s exposed skin, grinning at his muffled whimper. “Good boy.”
Axl had about one second to enjoy the warmth spreading through him at the praise, then Slash was bringing his hand down sharply on his right cheek and Axl jolts, fighting the urge to squirm away. “Fuck.” He breathed, cock twitching when Slash barely allowed him to catch his breath before raining stinging smacks all over his ass, the top of his thighs. Axl mewled, fisting the sheets and trying to figure out what he was feeling because certainly some wires were crossed. He was practically leaking all over the sheets as wave after wave of liquid heat built up in a knot in his lower abdomen, but fuck, it hurt, in the best way possible.
Slash felt something twist in his gut when the redhead begged for more, if he wasn’t listening closely he might’ve missed it. Who was he to deny Axl? The other three slaps echoed throughout the room, as did Axl’s broken cries. The redhead could no longer hold his position, his knees more or less gave way, as did his pride.
“More?” Slash teased, running his hand softly over the heated, reddened flesh. Axl hissed, leaning into his touch. “I mean, you did say ten right?”
“Please just fuck me before I—”
The last slap actually knocked the breath out of him, he whined high in his throat, rubbing against the silky sheets. “Slash…” He tried to growl, except it came out more like a plea. It was hard to sound intimidating when you were getting off on being spanked.
“That was ten.” He said, simply. “Should have counted.”
“Please…” Axl heard him chuckle, felt him leave the bed in search of lube. “It’s in the top drawer.” He mumbled, shivering with anticipation.
“There are some interesting things in that drawer.” He mused, crawling over to Axl. “Care to talk about them?”
“Next time.” Axl blushed, suddenly thankful that the room was dark enough to hide it.
Slash ignored how good it felt to hear those words out loud, the promise of more to come. “On your back.” Because he wanted to see his every expression the first time they did this, God, he could barely take his eyes off him. Axl blinked up at him, iris just a sliver of blue around his pupils, hair clinging to his face.
“Hi.” Axl smiled up at him, spreading his legs readily, way more willing than he had been earlier.
The guitarist laughed, slicking his fingers with lube. “Hey. How are you?”
“Horny.” He deadpanned, laughter abruptly cutting off when Slash’s slick fingers circled his twitching hole.
“I guess this will only take a second then?” Slash shot back, and honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he cracked jokes during sex. He gently slipped his finger inside, meeting some resistance, but Axl relaxed. “Oh, so you have done this before.”
“I’m not totally inexperienced.” He snapped, biting back a moan when Slash brushed teasingly against his prostate.
“Hm… Izzy did teach you a few things.” And that the last thing he said for a while. Because he reverted his focus to taking Axl apart with his fingers. The redhead keened and twisted his hips, loving the stretch and intimacy of the act, knowing damn well that Slash was watching his every move, carefully listening to his every sound, playing him like a fucking instrument.
He did something with his fingers that had Axl’s cock dribbling fluid unto his stomach, the redhead was pretty sure his eyes crossed. “Fuck Slash, stop fucking around!”
Probably the wrong thing to say. The brunette worked the third finger inside him, taking it even slower than he had before. Axl’s hand flew to the base of his cock, squeezing to stave off his orgasm. “Please, fuck me.”
Axl whined when those fingers were removed, heart thumping when he felt Slash’s slick length sliding against his thigh. Fuck, could he even take him?
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” He almost rolled his eyes, but caught himself last minute.
Slash was gentle with him, pressing in gently, pausing, giving him time to adjust. “You’re ok.” Showered him with kisses, Axl’s eyes filled with tears again, chest tight with emotion. “Fuck. I’m inside you baby.”
The redhead whined, yanking at Slash’s curls, begging him to move. “Slash…”
The brunette rocked gently, ignoring the primal part of him begging him to fuck him hard, to ruin him for everyone else, to claim him.
Axl gasped when Slash raised the tempo, arching obscenely when shocks of pleasure danced up his spine. He was well aware of the stream of nonsense coming from his lips. This was gonna end embarrassingly fast, fuck, he had been wanting this forever, but Slash was very clearly holding back.
No fucking way.
Axl smacked his arm, nails digging into the skin. “Come on, Slash. Fuck me.”
“Be a good boy and stay still.” He growled, pinning Axl’s wrists above his head. The redhead nodded, blinking the sweat from his eyes, know damn well how to get what he wanted. The brunette shoved back into that welcome heat, groaning when Axl’s muscles clutched desperately at him, tightening on his swollen cock. He gave Axl just what he wanted, hips rolling fluidly as he slammed inside him, drawing fierce howls and sobs from the redhead. God, he couldn’t stop himself from ducking to plunder Axl’s mouth with that same ferocity, nipping at his plush lips, kissing the cries from his lips. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Fuck, you take me so well.”
Axl squeezed his eyes shut at that, the lewd sounds of their fucking becoming too much, luring him closer to the edge. “Please, I’m so close. I—fuck!” And that was loud enough to wake the whole hotel, but he couldn’t locate a single fuck to give.
Slash could feel himself starting to unravel, but he was damn well going to take Axl with him. He squeezed his wrists tighter, fucking him with newfound fervour till Axl gave up, screamed, hit a note he’d never thought possible in the process, spilling hot and sticky over their bellies. Slash followed close behind, pulling out to mark Axl, ropes of come landing on his spent cock and stomach, mixing with his own.
“Fuck.” He grunted, releasing Axl’s wrists. The redhead groaned in agreement, rubbing his wrists gently. “Sorry about that. I was a bit.. er… rough.”
“A bit?” Axl laughed, running his fingers through their mess. “You’re carrying me around tomorrow, just so you know.” Luckily enough, they didn’t have a show, there was no way he would be able to perform like this.
Slash kissed his bruised lips, face breaking into a smile when Axl tried to bite him. “No problem. I’ve carried you around before.”
“Start practicing by carrying me to the shower.” He stretched languidly, not the least bit ashamed about how he looked.
“Anything for you, Princess.” He glanced at the clock, snorting softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
The redhead waved him off weakly, “Did you plan this?”
Slash rolled his eyes, searching for Axl’s shirt. “No. I wouldn’t have held out till this long.” He cleaned the redhead quickly, hoping he wouldn’t realize just what he was using till it was too late.
“Well,” Axl squinted at whatever Slash was dutifully trying to hide. “Happy Valentine’s D—hey! Is that my shirt?!”
“Well I don’t think you’ll be wearing it anymore, so, no.”
------
February 14th
“So.” Duff ventured, peering at Axl over his glasses. He was glowing, basically humming into his coffee as he leaned against the wall. “Uhm…”
“You two finally fucked.” Izzy said, grinning when Axl almost choked to death on the hot liquid. This was a good friendship. “Take it easy, have a seat.”
Slash smirked, “I don’t think he can.” The redhead shot him a glare, mumbling under his breath even as his cheeks reddened.
“Wow.” Steven mumbled around his mouthful of pancakes. “I mean, I heard the screaming but I assumed you were watching a really scary movie.”
Axl didn’t even acknowledge the drummer’s statement. It would be bad for his sanity if he tried to reason with Popcorn. “Big surprise. We sorted it out.”
“Just in time for the festivities.” Duff grinned, nudging Izzy. “Hey, wanna go out with us tonight? We can have a double date or whatever.”
“What is this, high school?” Axl asked, just as Slash said “Yeah, sure.” Fuck it, he’d have to talk to Slash about the ‘always agree with me’ rule.
“Hey wait, am I the only one who’s single today?” Steven whined, suddenly not very hungry anymore. “How come I don’t have a date?”
“Well uh…” Duff glanced at Izzy for support. “You can uhm…”
“Bring your drumsticks and we’ll call it a triple date.” Izzy finished, fuck it. That was the best he could come up with on the spot.
Axl muffled a giggle in his palm, watching Steven give it some thought. Christ, he worked with a group of idiots. “You can only have one date, so only bring one.”
“That does make sense.” He mused, nodding to himself. “Ok fine. So I guess we all have dates.”
Slash snorted, “Sure thing, Poppy.”
Izzy didn’t look the slightest bit ashamed of pulling this little scheme. “I’m happy for you two. I mean, I thought Axl was gonna run around his feelings like an idiot forever.”
“Hey—”
“Yeah, me too.” Slash said, ignoring Axl’s squawk of outrage. “The only way to make it more obvious was tattooing it on my forehead. Christ.”
Axl groaned, his feet were getting tired. “Slash. I wanna sit.”
The brunette pushed his chair back and gestured to his lap. “Make yourself at home.” The redhead grumbled, but what was the alternative? He slipped into Slash’s lap, wincing a bit.
“Do we even wanna know what happened?” Steven asked, shoveling food in his mouth at worrying speeds.
Izzy chuckled, “I do.”
“No.” Axl concluded, not even throwing him a glance. “We will not speak of it.”
Fearless leader or not, his band rarely listened to him.
“I heard him sobbing one time, pretty sure he got spanked.” Duff mused, grinning when Slash gave him a little wink.
“Oh my god! I fucking knew he’d be into something like that!” Izzy crowed. “I mean, he’s such a bossy little thing, he needs to be taken down a notch sometimes, right? The next time he throws a fit we get Slash to calm him down—”
Axl gave up, buried his face in Slash’s neck and ignored the idiots. He caught himself laughing along at some point, not nearly as offended as he should have been. Slash rubbed his back, whispering to him every now and then.
“You okay?”
“Better than ever.”