#get ready for 'Slash and Duff Roller Coaster Shit-Show Weekend'

[jaxl-road]

Scar Tissue, chapter 8

One step forward...

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Axl/Izzy, side Steven/Vince

Warnings: ((not in this chapter)) Implied/discussed past abuse (non-explicit)

~~~~~~~~

The next three weeks were… interesting.

Don’t get him wrong, Slash was over the moon. He no longer had to restrain himself around Duff, was finally allowed to run his hands through his hair and hold him and kiss him and lace their fingers together anytime he was in arms reach. It had been years since his last serious relationship, but he knows it didn’t feel like this.

On top of that, Guns N’ Roses was making waves again. With each show they played the crowds seemed to get bigger and wilder, and they were starting to snag better dates and times at the bigger venues. They were starting to actually make a decent amount of money from their shows. At night, as he fell asleep with Duff in his arms, he felt like everything was falling into place.

But…

At the same time, Slash couldn’t help but feel a little lost. Because something didn’t feel right.

Duff seemed happy, smiling into their kisses and playing with Slash’s curls and bursting with energy on stage. But he was also drinking even more than usual- bottle always in reach, almost never anywhere near sober- and he still jolted awake from nightmares, and there always seemed to be an apology on his lips.

And then there was the other thing…

“You guys haven’t fucked yet??” Steven gaped, slamming his beer down loudly on the table.

Slash groaned, putting his head in his hands. He and Steven had the house to themselves that night, and had decided that they were overdue for a hangout. As they drank and smoked and laughed, sitting next to each other on their beat up couch, the conversation inevitably veered towards their love lives, the two friends rambling about their boys happily. That is, until Steven joked about his and Vince’s bedroom activities, and then asked about Duff and Slash with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Slash could only stutter out a “well, actually-”

Steven shook his head in disbelief, “How? It’s been weeks, and you’ve been wanting to climb that boy like a tree since day one.”

“I know, I know,” Slash sighed, “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Looking over at the drummer, Slash saw that his friend actually had a look of concern on his face, frowning thoughtfully. It was easy to forget sometimes that Steven was more than just the sunshine goofball he appeared. He and Slash had been best friends since their childhood, and if there was anyone Slash could talk to about this, it was him.

So, taking another swig of his beer, Slash started talking, “It’s like… most of the time, we’re fine, right? Like, other than getting kinda blushy, he doesn’t mind PDA or anything that much. But when we’re alone, he just… doesn’t seem that into it, I guess?” He sighed, “And that’s not even getting into the fact that he’s almost always wasted by the time I get him alone, and that just makes me feel… gross, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Steven nodded sympathetically.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Slash dropped his head onto the coffee table in front of them, “Maybe he doesn’t really like me. Or thinks I’m unattractive. Oh my God, Steven, Duff thinks I’m ugly-”

“Oh, shut up you idiot,” Steven rolled his eyes, even as he reached out to pat Slash on the back, “Maybe he’s a virgin or something,” he shrugged.

Slash sat up, frowning in consideration, “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, just because we had a promiscuous youth doesn’t mean he did.”

“But he’s had a boyfriend before,” Slash pointed out.

“Yeah, but wasn’t he an asshole?” Steven argued, “Maybe they never got to that point. Duff definitely likes you a lot, but he’s also a nervous fucking dude, so, y’know,” he shrugged.

“That’s… actually a good point,” blinking in surprise, Slash leaned back as he thought more about it.

Meanwhile, Steven grinned, “See? You just needed some wisdom from your much smarter friend.”

“Oh fuck off,” Slash laughed. But he did feel better. After all, he didn’t mind taking things slow (what’s a few more weeks of long showers? He’d live), he had just been feeling insecure. With this new theory in mind, he felt like he could relax a little.

For that reason, he was in especially high spirits when he pulled Duff against his chest the next morning, “Hey, you have today off, right?” The bassist hummed and nodded, so Slash grinned, “Then we’re definitely due for a date. We need some time away from all the other couples,” he joked. Not that he didn’t love his friends, but Axl and Nikki especially always seemed to get a kick out of fucking with them. (Or rather, fucking with him.)

Duff grinned, “Sounds good to me,” he kissed Slash lazily, “What did you have in mind?”

Up until now, their dates were pretty standard- usually bar hopping, grabbing cheap food, seeing a movie or a show or something like that. “Not that I don’t love our usual outings,” Slash drawled, “but let’s do something different.”

“Like what?”

“Uuuuh,” Slash blinked at the ceiling, “I have no idea,” he smiled as Duff laughed. He tried to think of something, Duff burying his face in the crook of Slash’s neck, seemingly unconcerned with Slash’s dilemma. He poked at the blonde’s shoulder, “You have any ideas?”

The only response was silence, which Slash had learned meant that Duff definitely had an idea, he just didn’t want to say it. Sitting up swiftly, Duff rolled to the side with a soft “oof”, allowing Slash to look down at him with a grin.

“What do you want to do?”

Blushing, Duff scoffed, “I don’t know, whatever you want to-”

“No, no, no,” Slash interrupted, “You have an idea, I know it. Come on, pleeeease?” he whined.

Duff bit his lip lightly, hesitating for a minute before finally admitting, “It’s supposed to be nice today, and… I’ve always wanted to go up to the Hollywood sign,” he was quick to add on, “But seriously, it’s just a thought, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

While that was certainly not the suggestion Slash had expected, it only made him grin wider, “No way, let’s do it!” He hopped out of bed enthusiastically, “Y’know, I’ve lived in Hollywood most of my life and I’ve never been up there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess when you live in a place long enough you kind of forget to do the touristy stuff.”

Sitting up, Duff stared down at his lap, “Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s probably stupid, I just-”

“No, no!” Slash cut in, “I meant that that’s why it’s a cool idea,” he clarified.

He hated that after all this time, Duff still looked surprised when Slash showed any sort of approval towards him. He hated it, and he didn’t understand it, and he didn’t know how to ask about it. As such, he was a little relieved when Duff quickly shook off the surprise and gave him a sly grin.

“Not to mention I doubt there will be anyone around to bust us if we have a couple open containers.”

“I like the way you think,” Slash laughed.

Before long, they were both pulling on some boots and shoving a variety of bottles and a few joints into a beat up backpack. It wasn’t exactly early by the time they left, nearing noon, but still early enough that the rest of their housemates were still confined to their own rooms, allowing them for a clean getaway.

Duff was right that it was a nice day outside. The sun was shining, but there was a cool autumn breeze, and the odd hour on a weekday meant the bus was practically empty when they hopped on. That didn’t stop them from sitting in the very back, stretching their legs out across multiple seats and talking shit about random people they would see on the sidewalk and occasionally sneaking sips from a bottle of whiskey.

Needless to say, the bus driver was happy to see them exit when they reached their stop. When they reached the start of the trail through Griffith Park, Duff turned to Slash with a grin.

“We should think of a drinking game.”

Slash snorted, “What, like, take a shot every time we see a lizard or some shit?”

“You would go straight for lizards,” Duff laughed, elbowing him playfully.

“Alright then,” Slash continued, “One shot every time we see a lizard, but THREE shots if I can catch one,” he grinned deviously.

Duff hummed in consideration, “...Fine. BUT, you can’t take it home with you,” he bargained, giggling when Slash whined.

“Where’s the fun in that? Tell me you wouldn’t kill to put a lizard in Axl and Izzy’s bed.”

“I think they would kill you.”

“Hm, it’d be worth it though.”

Starting their trek, they were happy to find that the off-season left the trail open and empty, and wasted no time in passing a joint back and forth as they expanded the rules of their drinking game. Pointing at random things mostly as an excuse to take a swig from the bottles held in their hands.

“Shot every time you see a broken bottle!”

“Shot every time a plane goes by!”

“Everytime you hear a crow!”

“Everytime you see a rock with graffiti!”

“Everytime-”

“LIZARD!”

Duff jumped at Slash’s exclamation, the guitarist leaping forward drunkenly and diving to the ground in a clumsy attempt to catch the small reptile that had crossed their path. The whiskey left him uncoordinated though, and he landed roughly on the ground, the lizard scurrying away into the brush.

Laughing heartily, Duff nearly dropped his vodka as he staggered forward, tugging at Slash’s arm to help him back to his feet, “I thought you were good with reptiles?” he teased.

“Yeah, well, it’s an inverse correlation to my sobriety,” he replied sheepishly, dusting off his clothes and picking up his whiskey bottle from the ground where it had fallen. Luckily only a little had spilled, the bottle being half empty anyway, so he wiped the dirt from the top and declared it good enough.

As they continued their journey, Slash reached out to lace their fingers together, swaying their arms between them as they continued up and up the hillside, Duff ducking his head with a shy smile. They took their time, the alcohol and weed keeping their pace leisurely as they laughed and giggled at practically everything, stumbling when they tried to walk as Slash pulled Duff closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nearly tangling their legs together mid step.

Before they knew it, they were standing at the end of the trail, looking down at the Hollywood sign and the expanse of the city below them.

“Wow…”

The view was gorgeous, but Slash only looked for a moment, too distracted by Duff’s wide eyes, awe and alcohol blending as he smiled excitedly down at the landscape. Tugging the bassist’s hand, they carefully made their way through the brush down the hill. Once they were in the shade of the ‘H’, they slid to sit on the ground, and Slash wasted no time pulling Duff into a kiss, feeling like he hadn’t gotten nearly enough of them today. Duff smiled against his mouth, leaning against the sign behind them as Slash pressed against him.

They lazily exchanged whiskey and vodka kisses, hidden in their own little world behind their city’s landmark. Eventually they broke away when Slash’s stomach growled loudly, Duff laughing as Slash ducked his head in embarrassment. Pulling a handful of granola bars from their backpack, they ate quietly, enjoying the companionable silence while Slash rested his head against Duff’s shoulder.

Eventually, they felt rested enough to start making their way back down, abandoning their games in favor of simply drinking and smoking leisurely while Slash rambled about all the parties he’d been to with his parents across the freeway on Mulholland Drive. By the time they were getting onto the bus again, the sun was beginning to set, and while they were both tired and half drunk-half high, they agreed that junk food was in order.

Hopping off at a stop near a diner they both liked, Slash grabbed Duff’s hand again, grinning happily as they chatted. The blonde was smiling easily, his body relaxed, and while he wasn’t sober, he wasn’t as wasted as he had been the past few weeks. Maybe Slash had been overthinking it, worrying about nothing. Duff seemed fine now. Maybe he had just been overreacting like Steven said.

But then, just feet away from the diner, someone approached the two musicians. And Duff sucked in a breath, freezing in place as a voice called out behind them.

“Michael?”