An ill mouthed girl with a fiery temper and bad attitude comes across a blonde headed stranger in her bed whilst covered in something strange. His friends are just like brothers and family soon becomes a tight nation to them all as Sloan grows close...
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Slash
This wasn't the first time Steven and Izzy had a viscous brawl, and resulted in smashing the ashtray all over the rented apartments wooden floor. The main issue wasn't the mess of ashes scattered against the oak, but the fact that I didn't have anywhere to leave my cigarette in order to come back to it after I'd gone for a damn piss.
"Steven." Axl growled for the fifth time today, throwing a magazine of some sort at his head. We were all hanging, especially Izzy, and as a result his temper was worse than usual.
"He started it." Stevie grumbled, nudging Izzy. The greasy haired man growled in return, raising the magazine - previously launched by the singer, perched a few feet away - and smashing it down upon his head. "Hey!" He yelled, shoving Izzy - again - as the guitarist crashed into the weak, cheap, coffee table, collapsing the wooden frame of which the broken ashtray once settled on.
"Watch it!" I shouted, a daisy smile planted upon my lips as the cigarette settled between them.
"Sorry, Slash." Stevie groaned, crushed beneath Izzy as he shoved him deeper into the prodding and broken wood. "Would you get off of me you bad tempered shit?" He cursed, flipping the angered man away from him. I rolled my eyes, standing and exiting the room, leaving the door open as I unzipped and pissed in the remotely clean toilet, the cigarette bud slowly drawing to an end before I inhaled one last scoop and spat it into the water bowl, flushing and zipping myself back up.
Walking back into the room, I - at last - noticed the disappearance of Duff. "Where's Blondie?" I questioned, curiously with my head tilted. The curls hardly moved as the fringe covered my eyes a little. "I thought he came out last night, too."
"He's probably fucking some chic, Slash, you know how it is." Axl shrugged, wandering into the kitchen and returning with his second bottle of beer for the day. He always was a lucky fucker; never suffered from bad hangovers like the rest of us and he could drink for days. And he wasn't exactly wrong, of course I knew how it worked - we all fucking did - it just seemed that last night, we all got so extraordinarily pissed up, that no chicks wanted to venture home with us - Well, all aside from Duff, of course, the lucky fuck - and therefore we resided to battling the slander home on our own, accompanying each other with a giggle and a stumble to our stride.
Be it the distraction of my thoughts, or the persistent argument rattling between Izzy and Steven, I couldn't quite figure out, though it appeared to shrill a surprised jump through my nerves, as the frail door swung open, startling us all, and a girl with an rather fucked offexpression stormed through, Duff trailing behind her with a face quite the same. "How do you think I felt?" He exclaimed, obviously unbothered by the audience. We all stared back and forth between the two as they continued to bicker, shameless for the prying eyes following their irritated tones.
