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
After the whole scene at the recording studio, Axl didn't really feel like partying. So we decided to call it a day and abandon the idea until tomorrow - which was by no means an issue to me, I was happy to have a night of rest.
Sloan and I had our own section of the hotel room, with Duff on the other side of the wall and Steven huddled in the bathroom over a few lines and a needle. A few moments ago I'd joined him, and so I was perfectly happy, horny and high. My three favorite H's.
She was curled into my chest and was slowly drifting off to sleep, myself playing with the soft strands upon her head as she mumbled things in a tired tone, sending a smile to my lips. It was so damned quiet and cute that I felt myself gushing like a pussy. "You're cute." I said, cutting her off. She glanced up with a delicate smile and yet a frown on her brow.
"I was talking about bleaching asshole hair." She said.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise and gaped silently. "Oh."
"Do you think it hurts?"
I thought for a moment, sitting on the question. Did it? "I don't know." I said, after a moment or two. "Maybe?"
"I might get it done." She shrugged and I widened my eyes; was this an indication to... other sex? "I'm not saying I will." She said, quietly as she snuggled further into my chest. I stroked her arm gently and frowned.
"I think I'm a little too dark to get it done."
"Well, unless you're gay I don't see why you'd need to get it done." She laughed, glancing back up and resting her cheek on her palm with her elbow against the mattress of the bed, lying on her side. I smiled, rolling my eyes and mimicked her actions.
"I'm definitely not gay." I scrunched up my nose. "And you're not getting your ass bleached, Michael Jackson."
She scoffed, swatting my chest lightly with a soft chuckle. "Shut up you asshole."
"At least I'm not a bleached one."
"But Duff is." She snickered. I let out a loud snort of laughter, rattling her and myself as I thought of the joke repeatedly. He really was.
I sobered up quickly, shaking my head and rolling my eyes with a dumbass, nerdy grin. "Yo, Duff!" I yelled out, smirking triumphantly in her direction. She widened her eyes and sat up, shaking her head furiously.
"No! He'll kick my ass, man."
"No he won't." I scoffed.
As if on queue, in walked Big Bird with a cigarette hanging from his smirking lips, a bottle of vodka in his hand as he reached up and scratched the back of his damaged and dyed hair. "Hello? You called."
