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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Sloan
"Have I made some sort of mistake?" I joked, nervously. My stomach began to flip and turn and ache with pain, the realisation of my wound only just settling in.
"Big time, sweetheart." Duff assured, amused. I wanted to smack myself around the face due to the absolute stupidity I had just agreed to. I didn't know these people. For all I know they could murder for fun and get arrested day in and day out. However I didn't bother to back down; it wasn't who I was. I was stubborn and irritable but one thing I wasn't was afraid.
Axl looked over at me, his chiselled face clearly enjoying everything about this situation. "First things first," He began, smirking highly. "Let's get drunk." I groaned, I wasn't exactly a lightweight and that meant the amount of alcohol I'd have to consume - for the second day in a row - wasn't healthy whatsoever. "We can get you some Monkey Shoulder and then we get whatever it is we want to drink."
Nodding my head, I agreed with a slight sigh. "Okay." But then the shooting pain throughout my abdomen reminded me that perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Clenching my jaw, I spoke through gritted teeth. "But there's a reason I looked like a nosebleed this morning." I quoted Duff and he smirked, remaining silent. The boys took a glance at where my arm wrapped around my stomach. "It might be infected." I mumbled, pulling up the edge of the top and revealing the large cut running along the red flesh. "Anyone wanna clean it?" Axl raised his eyebrows, whistling lowly.
"That's a mean motherfucker, right there." He said, Steven and Izzy nodding along. I looked at Duff desperately and he shook his head, pointing directly at where Slash sat, curiously sipping at the warm whisky. "He's the medical man." He explained, shrugging his shoulders.
"Slash?" I practically begged, smiling for approval. He rose from his seat, nodding his head and ordered me to follow him to the kitchen - presumably where the disinfectant was. His large hands grasped onto the few bottles within the cupboard, pulling out one of my favourite whisky's, too. "I love that stuff." I grinned, childishly.
"Good. You'll be drinking it." His voice was gruff and low, curls crowning his face as he lowered his head and focused on which to use first. "It's been stitched?" He questioned.
"I guess." I responded, arms slowly beginning to ache from holding up the fabric. "But not very well, I don't think." I sighed.
Nodding, he grasped onto the soft white cotton, drowning it in a clear liquid before he looked over at me, speaking gently. "It's going to hurt and I need you to remove your top." I complied, pulling it over my head and clenching my fist around it. "Stand up straight." He instructed, pulling up my shoulders with his calloused hands. The fingertips were really rough - just like the upper palm - and I wondered what he did for hobbies. "Don't pull my hair if it stings." He warned, prodding the seeping cut with the devils work. I growled lowly, clenching my fists with tears in my eyes. Shit this hurt. He began to drag at the wound and I let out a series of grunts and screams, the pain soon drawing to be numb as I refused to let a single tear slip. Tossing the now entirely red cotton upon the counter, he re-applied the horrifyingly painful medicine to another, prodding slightly harder this time. I screamed something small, holding onto his hair with anger. "Get off!" He grunted, pressing into it and watching as blood smeared further around. I let go, feeling one or two tears sliding down my cheeks as I panicked with breath.
"How much longer?" I gasped, lost for breath. I'd never felt pain like it.
"Almost done." He mumbled, removing the amber coloured fabric from my stomach, placing a large bandage against it before cautiously wrapping my stomach, bringing himself closely to tighten it appropriately. At last the pain ceased and he handed me the small capsule of drink, allowing me to swallow it swiftly and grunt heavily. Still, he remained fairly close to me, our proximity removing the thought of pain. He smelt like cigarettes and whisky... I liked it.
"Why do you know how to do all that?" I questioned, voice quiet. There was no need to speak loudly; he was hardly moments away.
Shrugging his shoulders, he stepped back, pushing the curly hair out of his face. "Biking, I guess." And then I understood why his palms were so rough. He took a quick swig of my whisky, smiling a little as he did so. "JD is so much better." He grinned, wandering back through the door and into the room where the boys sat, laughing and joking around. It seemed they were already highly intoxicated with whatever was laying around the house. So instead of being the only two sober, myself and Slash clinked the bottles of Whisky together, downing as much as we could before the gagging stepped in.
