Domestic Blitz • Slaxl

III. You Could Be Mine

Axl winced at the ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains, awakening him from a troubled sleep. He couldn't remember how he'd made it to bed the night before, but Slash's side had been made and the room was eerily empty, now. He looked at his beeper on the nightstand. It was 1:30 in the afternoon and Duff had paged him twice.

"Shit! I'm late!"

The singer threw on a pair of jeans and one of his boyfriend's old t-shirts and jumped into his car, speeding to Izzy's flat where they practiced. He burst through the door, interrupting a jam session, and glared at the curly haired guitarist.

"Uh, let's take five," Duff called, seeing the look on the singer's face.

Axl jumped at the opportunity to confront Slash.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked.

"I tried. You told me to fuck off."

"You know I don't mean it when I talk like that," he told him, softening his tone.

"Where were you last night?" Slash asked him.

"What are you talking about? I came home."

"Yeah, shit-faced at 3 in the morning. Where were you?"

"The bar, obviously," he responded.

"You were at the bar and that's it?"

"Yes! Jesus, what's with the third degree?"

Slash shook his head and rolled his eyes beneath his bangs.

"Whatever," he muttered.

Axl turned away, preparing to hit the mic and walked into Izzy, who blushed and looked away as he dodged his path.

This was the absolute worst. His boyfriend thought he was up to no good, and he was right. His best friend was clearly uncomfortable around him after that stupid kiss they both managed to remember, and his drummer was fucking his ex-girlfriend in the bed they once shared.

Practice was as awkward as anyone could've expected, and afterwards, Axl went out onto the balcony seeking a moment's peace.

There was a gentle breeze and he began to relax as he leaned against the paint chipped rails, puffing away at a cigarette.

His many worries seemed to fade into the distance until a hand grazed his shoulder.

"Hey, man. You alright?"

"I'm fine," he spat, pulling away and cutting his eyes at the blonde.

Steven sighed.

"Dude, I know you're still mad at me, but it can't stay like this. Rehearsal was weird and I feel like it's my fault. I don't want any bad blood between us. I love Jen, but I care about you, too. I want things to be alright between us."

"Steven, she's just using you to get back at me," he responded, bluntly.

"Come on, Axl. This isn't about you. I know you guys went through a lot, but is it so hard to believe that we're together because we wanna be and not because she's this evil person?"

"If you believe that, you're even dumber than I thought," Axl grumbled with the flick of his cigarette, as he stood to his feet, leaving his defeated band mate behind him.

The rest of the guys had finished packing their things away. Slash had been waiting at the door with his guitar in it's case while Izzy sat on the couch, steadily strumming away. Slash had taken the singer's hand.

"Let's go home," he urged.

Izzy briefly looked over at them and Axl nervously dropped his boyfriend's hand at the sight.

"I'll be home, soon," he told him. "I've got some things to wrap up, here."

Slash reluctantly left the room and Axl turned his attention towards his solemn friend.

"Can we talk?" he asked him.

Izzy set his guitar aside and led Axl into his room where they sat on the edge of his bed.

"Listen, about last night... I don't know why I did it. This whole thing with Steven and Jen has my head all screwed up. I didn't mean to take advantage of you or anything."

"You didn't take advantage of me," he responded, before casually leaning in to kiss his bewildered friend. Axl felt his entire body tense with excitement as their lips briefly moved with one another in a smoldering act of passion that left them all but confused about where the status of their "friendship" stood.

A creak at the door quickly caught their attention as Duff stood in the doorway, dumbstruck and squinting as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Axl couldn't believe his luck.

"Fuck."