Book 2: She's Out To Please (Duff McKagan FanFic)

Epilogue

I tried to hide my smile as Duff fussed with his blonde locks of hair in the rear view mirror. Smoothing out fly-aways and tugging at the bow tie around his neck, I watched every move he made. I couldn't help but to find it funny how I always seemed to be the man of our relationship.

Duff had tried on five different suits, a handful of ties, and three pairs of shoes before he'd finally settled on the outfit that he was wearing now. Meanwhile, I'd picked out a comfy and cute dress and a pair of heels, laying them out for myself the night before. Duff had been the one rushing around the house in a frenzy, desperately trying to get ready, yet still somehow getting to the car fifteen minutes after I had. And now, here we sat in the parked car in the driveway of our destination, with Duff unable to happily settle with the way he looked.

It felt strange too, that he was the one acting so nervous. After all, I was the strange, new girlfriend that he was bringing to Thanksgiving dinner to meet his entire family. A family that I had heard was very big, very loud, and slightly religious.

Parts of me were worried, sure. I didn't know how much the family might have heard about me. I suspected it wasn't much, considering Duff hadn't spoken to them in quite some time. Not since we had started dating, anyway. But his Aunt Lois was bound to recognize me from St. Augustine's, and I hadn't a clue what kind of trouble that may or may not stir up.

"Duff, you look fine," I reassured him for about the millionth time. I rested my hand on his jiggling knee, hoping to ease some of his worries.

"I know, I know..." He hissed, his eyes glancing at the large house we had parked in front of. "I just...I haven't seen everybody in a while. I wanna' look good for them, you know? I want them to be proud of me."

I grinned. "They will be."

They had every reason to be. Guns N'Roses had been working their asses off to record their debut album, Appetite for Destruction. It was an amazing record with crazy amounts of energy. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before.

I was only dating Duff and I already felt so much pride in my heart for what he has accomplished. I couldn't imagine how his mother might feel, having raised him into the wonderful gentleman that he was today. That kind of connection ran so much deeper than what Duff and I had, and I was excited for him to realize that. If he could just get into the house to tell his mom the great news, he could watch her eyes light up, and he could see for himself just how impressed we all were with him.

Duff shrugged, his frown deepening. "You're supposed to say that. You're my girlfriend."

"So?" I giggled.

"So if I'm a loser, that means you're dating a loser," he teased, poking me lightly on the shoulder.

I arched an eye brow. "I don't date losers. I date rockstars."

"Same thing," he joked, and we both laughed appreciatively at the truth in that.

Before the album had really taken off, I had moved in with Guns and stayed with Duff in their loft. I couldn't live with my parents anymore. They didn't support my dreams, they didn't support my relationship with Duff, and they had never believed me about Dean. And why should they? He was a rich Catholic boy with a pretty face.

After so many months of living from paycheck to paycheck with the rest of the band, record sales began to soar, and the gravy train started its journey once more. I nearly cried at the checks that the band began to receive. I had started to doubt my decision to stay with Duff, and I had questioned his own choices to stay in the band. I didn't want him to starve, and I didn't want him to worry.

But the gamble had paid off, and now, here we were to deliver the great news to Duff's family. Maybe also to rub it in their noses a bit. Duff had made it. Duff and his band of losers weren't a band of losers after all. They were one in a million. They were Guns N'Roses.

Watching Duff going back to the mirror to fix his already-fixed hair again, I couldn't help myself. A fluttering began in my chest. I'd felt it before, the first time we had met to be exact. It was such a foreign feeling to me at the time, however, that I mistook it for a strong urge to fuck him. But now, now I knew what it was.

Duff had told me he loved me many times over the course of our relationship, and every time, the way he would describe it...It sounded exactly like this. This heart attack that I clung to. This punch in the gut that I relished. A stomach bug that I thrived on.

So many times, I wanted to tell him. Numerous moments passed where I didn't say a word. This was one of those times. Duff didn't need to hear my love to know it was true, that much I knew. Duff was sincere, and his heart was pure. If I loved him and if I showed it, he would know it. He'd have to.

Silently, I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it into my own. His eyes finally tore themselves from the mirror, and he turned to look at me.

"I am proud of you, Duff," I said softly. "They will be too. I promise."

He studied me for a moment, and in that moment, I tried to reach him with my eyes. Trying my hardest to project my love for him out through my pupils, I gazed into his brown orbs until he began to smile.

"Okay. Okay yeah," he nodded enthusiastically. "Let's go! Let's do this!"

Without even waiting for my reply, he tore the keys from the ignition and leapt out of the car. Tearing off down the drive way, Duff ran so fast, he nearly tripped and fell in his suit. Oh, the cons of being tall and awkward. My Big Bird.

I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears in my eyes. I didn't know why it was so hard for me to say it. After all Duff had done for me, and how patient he had always been, I didn't understand why I couldn't just say the words.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"Mary, let's go!" Duff yelled from his spot on the doorstep.

"Coming!" I called back.

I hopped out of the passenger's seat and tried my best to jog in my heels without breaking my neck. When that wasn't quite working, Duff sprinted over to me and laughed.

"You walk like you've got a stick up your ass," Duff chuckled.

"I'm not Kaz," I shot back with a giggle.

"That was a dildo, not a stick," he corrected me. "Here. Let me help you."

In his suit, the exact same one he had been keeping immaculate all day in preparation for this family dinner, Duff got down on a knee and waited. When I made no move to latch onto him, he looked over his shoulder at me.

"Aren't you gonna' get on?" He pressed.

I smiled softly, carefully climbing up onto his back and holding him tightly. He wavered a bit before he had found his footing, but was soon walking us to the front door. Dirt on his pants, and his hair blown about by the wind, Duff didn't look perfect anymore. But he always looked perfect to me.

I love you. I nestled my face into his neck.

I love you. His hair tickled my face.

I love you. His hands clasped my thighs tightly, his skin so warm against my own. I held him tighter.

"I know," Duff said softly, as though he had been reading my mind. His grip on my thighs strengthened just the slightest bit. "I love you too."

A/N: I see you standin' there...with nothing to read now that this book is over. Good thing you can now read Book 3: You Don't Want My Love here: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/R78MFQnCHw