Bandom One-shots book 3

A Night In Transit ! Final Part !

The bar felt like it was closing in on me, the music and laughter blending together in a haze. My head was spinning, but not from the booze—there was something else hanging in the air, something between me and Slash that I couldn't ignore anymore. Maybe I hadn't been paying attention before, or maybe it was just the right combination of whiskey and adrenaline, but something was shifting. I could feel it, thick and undeniable, like electricity crackling just beneath the surface.

Steven's voice cut through my thoughts again, loud and brash, just as I expected. He was yelling something about arm-wrestling the waitress—probably making up some ridiculous story to try to impress her. But even though I had heard it all before, something was different tonight. My attention kept flicking back to Slash, who sat across from me, his eyes flickering between me and the chaos of the table. He looked completely unbothered, almost too relaxed, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily in the dim light. But there was something in the way he held himself—something just for me.

I glanced over at Duff and Izzy. The two of them had slipped into their own world over by the jukebox, Izzy leaning into Duff like he didn't want to be anywhere else. There was a tenderness between them, subtle but unmistakable. I caught Izzy's smirk when Duff said something low in his ear, and it made my chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. They were so... easy with each other, like their connection had always been there, just waiting to be recognized. It was the kind of quiet, comfortable intimacy that I envied and didn't quite understand.

But then my focus shifted back to Slash. I couldn't help it. The way he was watching me, his eyes heavy with something that didn't quite match the casual smirk on his face. I took a long drink from my glass, pretending to follow Steven's antics as he tried to convince the waitress that arm-wrestling was a form of "professional negotiation." It was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull between Slash and me. Our gazes locked for a moment, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded. The noise, the chaos, the smoke-filled air—none of it mattered. It was just him and me.

I shifted in my seat, trying to shake off the feeling. "You sure you're not gonna get us into more trouble tonight, Axl?" Steven asked, his voice cutting through the quiet tension I was trying to ignore.

I turned to him with a half-smirk. "Trouble's never far behind, Steve. You should know that by now."

Before Steven could respond, I caught Slash's eye again. He was looking at me like he knew something—something I wasn't quite ready to admit to myself yet. I could feel the pull between us, the electric charge, but I wasn't sure what to do with it. The thought of something more between us seemed impossible, yet it was so obvious, like an open secret everyone else could see except us.

"You good, Axl?" Slash asked quietly, leaning in just enough for me to hear him over the noise.

His breath was warm against my ear, and for a moment, I let myself breathe it in, the familiar scent of smoke and whiskey, mixed with something that was purely him. It was a dangerous cocktail, and I was already a little drunk on it. I couldn't speak for a second, so I just nodded, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"You sure?" he pressed, his voice low, the concern there, even though he was trying to hide it behind that trademark smirk.

"Yeah," I said, my throat tight. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" He leaned in even closer, and this time I didn't pull away.

I could feel the warmth of his body just inches from mine. His arm brushed mine, and the contact was enough to send a jolt through me. I didn't even care anymore about the game we were playing, the one where we pretended there was no tension between us. "About you," I muttered, not looking away.

Slash raised an eyebrow, a slow grin curling at his lips. "Me, huh?" His voice was quieter now, teasing, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something deeper. "You sure you want to talk about that?"

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close we were, how everything had shifted in the span of just a few moments. "I don't know what I want," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could stop myself, before I could overthink it like I usually did, I leaned in. His lips were on mine in an instant, soft and warm, tasting of whiskey and smoke, but also something more. It wasn't a casual kiss, not like all the others I'd shared with a dozen different faces in the past. This one was different. It was raw and real, and for that split second, I felt like everything made sense. The world outside disappeared, and it was just the two of us. Nothing else mattered.

When we pulled apart, my heart was racing, but I didn't feel embarrassed. I didn't feel like I had done something reckless. I felt... right. Like this was where I was supposed to be. Slash's eyes were dark, his pupils blown, and there was that damn smirk still playing at the corners of his lips.

"Guess you're not so full of shit after all," he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek.

I laughed, a little breathless. "Guess not."

We stayed there, close enough that I could feel his heartbeat in time with mine, the chaos of the bar still swirling around us. But it didn't matter. Not anymore.

The night continued, but it was different now. Duff and Izzy had come back to the booth, their hands brushing under the table in the most casual, intimate way, like they had always been this way. I noticed the way Duff's fingers rested on Izzy's leg, his thumb tracing the fabric of Izzy's jeans in a rhythm that was almost comforting. They didn't care who saw. They were happy, and that was all that mattered.

Steven, of course, hadn't noticed a thing. He was too busy ordering another round of shots, trying to convince the waitress to join in on some ridiculous game. But I wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Not when Slash was beside me, his presence a quiet promise of things to come.

As the night wore on, the booze flowed freely, and the laughter became louder, but I didn't care about the chaos anymore. I didn't care about the noise or the mess we all left behind in our wake. I only cared about what had started between Slash and me—what we had started. Something real, something honest, something that didn't need to be hidden anymore.

At the end of the night, as we stumbled out of the bar, Slash's hand brushed mine again, and this time I didn't let go. We were both so damn drunk, but it didn't matter. Not when we had something real waiting for us just outside that door.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something that would last longer than just a wild night out.

~A Night In Transit ! Final Part !~