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
"So what's the deal with you and Slash?" Axl questioned, the look of knowing plastered upon his face. I shook my head with a little laugh, sparking the cigarette with a lighter he just so happened to gift me.
"Nothing." I shrugged.
His smirk grew and he raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's funny," he began. "Because you're using his favourite lighter and you're wearing his boxers. The ones his balls have rubbed against? You know, his lucky pants?" Rolling my eyes, I took a long drag of the cigarette. "I know Slash." He continued. "He doesn't share things, yet even on the first day of meeting you he let you drink his whisky."
"His whisky?" I asked.
"His whisky." He confirmed, nodding his head. "The only one to ever drink Jack Daniels like it's water was Slash until you turned up." He rid the humour from his account. "Has he opened up to you?" Everyone knew how closed off he tended to be, so I shrugged my shoulders once again, responding nonchalantly.
"I know some things." I said, casually.
"Such as?"
"If I were to tell you, that'd be breaking his trust." I explained, blowing out the last breath of toxins before stubbing it against the floor and rubbing it in with my bare foot. "Either way, even if anything was happening you'd be the last to know." I mentioned, turning and walking away with a stride in my step. There was one thing Axl forgot to point out; I was smoking Slashes cigarettes, too. His boxers were far too big and slightly slipped at my hip, the American flag printed out against the fabric. They were his lucky pants and I did have his favourite lighter. But it didn't exactly mean anything.
I wandered through the small amounts of mess crowding my floor, remembering the company of all other three boys downstairs in my kitchen, drinking away with their - my - dope and a few packets of cigarettes. After mine and Slashes... moment, the boys wandered in and allowed us to be set free, deciphering that we should all go to my apartment for a while. Grabbing yet another cigarette from within the crimson and white box, I sparked it with that silver lighter he loved so dearly, breathing in the warm air as it itched at my throat. Wandering back through the door, I made my way down the hallway that was so short two doors were hardly able to fit upon the wall, making my way down the stairs begrudgingly. Upon seeing the dark oak in the light, I cursed and rubbed my head, disregarding the extra ash; there was a dark stain crowding the wood upon the floor. There was a low chance that would ever come out. "Do any of y'all have a spare rug or some shit?" I asked, scratching the back of my head as I entered in the kitchen. "My floors bloody."
"We'll sort it out." Slash grinned, taking Duff by his shoulders, dragging him over toward the mess. I raised a curious eyebrow, looking at Steven as his radius smile enveloped me in a sort of happy blanket.
"How are you, Stevie?" I asked, taking a seat upon the table next to where he positioned himself.
He looked down at the 'shorts' accompanying my upper legs. "You're wearing his lucky boxers." He grinned. "And you're smoking his cigarettes."
"Let's not forget the lighter and whiskey, shall we?" I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "And yes, I am doing just fine, thank you so kindly for asking Steven."
Axl stumbled into the room with a teasing grin, "She's wearing his boxers". He stated.
"And smoking his shit."
"That too?"
"Yep."
"Practically in love." Axl joked.
"Match made in heaven."
I rolled my eyes, throwing my arms up defeatedly. "You're all knuckleheads. Do you want me to just whip them off right here or something?" I exclaimed.
"Yes." They all repeated. Only then had I noticed the sneaky entrance of Slash and Duff. I raised an eyebrow in the head of curls' direction. "Fuck you all." I breathed, pushing the two men out of the way as they chuckled lightly. And then their version of 'sorting things out' came into view. A large table sat directly in front of the stairs, blocking any path of getting up there as three chairs piled on top. "Where did you even get this stuff?" I didn't own anything of the sort.
"I have no fucking clue." Duff laughed, shaking his head. Groaning, I threw down the wood in aggravation, cringing as the oak connected loudly and rang through the apartment. And then I began to mount the table, one leg at a time; to which I soon regretted as the low whistle of one of the boys came shortly after. "Nice ass." They hollered and I immediately recognised the owner as Axl. I swung round with a challenging look plastered upon my face.
"Suck my dick, William." I said, sarcasm ripping through as I then began to ascend the stairs.
*
My back pressed up against the overly large speaker, gentle vibrations running through my spine as Izzy gently tuned his guitar. We were in the recording studio; the boys showing off their talent for the first time to my fragile ears. Stevie was on drums, his energetic and smiley self all dosed up on his regular drugs - Duff had mentioned something about his addiction on the journey here - and Axl took a few large gulps from the transparent green bottle of beer. He was the only participant without an instrument. So, naturally, I presumed he were the lead singer. Duff held a guitar within his hands, but it was so different compared to Slashes. His was white and the strings were thick, unlike Hudson's of which was amber and yellow, with the usual copper strands running across the neck. Izzy played another electric guitar, standing to the right of Duff and he held a cigarette between his lips - just as all the guitarists did - with a small black cap upon his black hair.
Without warning, the igniting riff of Slashes guitar burst through the speaker and I felt my eyes suddenly glued to the way his fingers roamed about the neck as though it were a first nature. Not too soon after the repeated lick, Izzy and Duff joined in, their own instruments creating entirely different noises as they moulded together perfectly. And then came the rhythmic beat of Steven, sticks pounding gently against the skin of the drums, tapping the symbols here and there. They continued for a few moments, concluding the introduction, before Axl stepped in, his high voice ringing loud and clear throughout the crisp air. The comparison between his usual depth and the octaves he seemed to reach so easily left me shocked as I allowed my jaw to drop - only a millimetre or two, they had big enough egos as it was - and Slash hardly managed to smirk at my reaction before he focused once again, eyes shielded by the crown of curls securing his head.
"She's got a smile, that it seems to me," Axl sung. "Reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky." His hands moved along in their own special way. It looked a little strange but I let it slide, he was good. In fact; they were all fucking amazing. "Now And then when I see your face; it takes me away to that special place, and if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry." A short instrumental followed. "Woah, sweet child o' mine."
I closed my eyes, leaning heavily against the rattling waves radiating from the speaker, feeling myself rumble within the sound. I could get used to this; that was for sure.
