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SIXTEEN - 1992, Southampton.
IT WAS LESS of a harmless party, with a few beers and quiet music that only held four to five occupants, and more of a mass mob, countless intoxicated bodies swarming the street as tables were carried out from houses and booze were purchased by total strangers, all adding to the insanity of the whole ordeal.
Then again, a small, reserved party wasn't in any member of the Guns' vocabulary.
"Go big or go home, right?" Duff had said to Izzy as he returned to the bus, only to be welcomed by drugged up, drunken English fuckers that really tended to crowd his personal space.
And of course, Izzy being Izzy, he had responded with an eye roll and a simple, "I wish I could go home." Before he bent down and used a rolled up dollar to snort three lines, the cream settling in the back of his throat a reminder that he needed to let lose a little. And then Duff handed him a large bottle of red wine, demanding he chug the entirety before he was allowed to leave.
Safe to say, Izzy joined the party pretty damned quickly.
Slash had his lips hooked on a girl with round brown eyes and pure blonde hair, something he found himself enjoying running his hands through as they continuously and tirelessly played a match of tongue hockey. Though his movements were sloppy and slurred by the heroin in his blood and the empty bottle of Jack Daniels rolling about his feet, it seemed the blonde enjoyed his sexual company enough to remove her shirt and stand free in the middle of the street.
She had him pinned against the wall of the bus, her red lipstick staining his neck and his chest as it smeared along his upper lip and to the left of his cheek, his hair no longer tied back courteously. She tugged on it aggressively - an action he found himself not so fond of, reaching up to remove her tough grip upon his curls.
As per usual, Slash was shamelessly shirtless, his torso on full display as an array of fresh hickeys sprawled along the complexion as it stretched upon his panting chest and rising collar bones, one in particular standing out far darker upon his neck. Slash wasn't exactly a fan of hickeys from girls he didn't know, but he was enjoying the action thus far, and made no attempt t stop her as her hands trailed down to the fly of his jeans, tugging down the zipper and withdrawing her face from their smothering session.
She held a dirty smirk upon her lips, crouching down to her knees as Slash rested his head back against the bus wall, mouth agape and eyes closed in pure blissful pleasure, her head bobbing back and forth as the crowd went about their night, high off cocaine and dope and free booze.
Aveline wove in and out of the bodies, dragging along a man she didn't know the name of, but liked the look of. He looked slightly delicious - someone she could really envision herself kissing unabashedly - and his roaming hands weren't too daring or too forceful, just enough of a push to get her in the right mood. It was well past three am, and Avline found herself dangerously drunk and extraordinarily high.
This man - the one gripping her hand and nibbling on her neck as he lead her away from the party - had already handed over four different kinds of drowsing drugs to Aveline, the kind that really chilled someone out until they were practically unable to speak or make any form of self-inflicted movement. She had also snorted a line and a half, unable to finish the second due to a frustrating and deterring nosebleed, and she had consumed an entire bottle of vodka, something that left her throat dry and croaky.
Izzy noticed the maneuvering of the brightly-colored hair from the distance of the tour bus, the notion ringing alarms in his drugged up ears. He cursed beneath his breath, a bad feeling beginning to brew in his gut, and glanced around in attempt to find a familiar face.
Hurriedly, he made his way down the steps, jogging unusually, and tumbled to where Saul stood, his dick in some blonde chick's mouth. Izzy winced and looked away, calling his name and tapping his cheek lightly, "Slash," he called, "Slash, man, some dude's takin' Aveline."
He took a moment to digest the sentence, though it went in one ear and out the other, a groan of pleasure escaping his mouth before his words had the chance. "Oh-What?"
"Aveline," Slash sobered up slightly at the alarmed mention of her name, causing his eyebrows to draw together, thick with concern for his dearest friend and companion. "I saw her taking off with some guy. She looks totally fucked up, man."
Cursing, the curly haired guitarist pushed away the blonde with slight remorse, smiling apologetically in her direction, before attempting to tame his boner, folding it into his jeans and zipping himself back up. The only issue was - not only did he not have any underwear on - but it was almost impossible to run - or even walk - with a hard-on.
"Which way?" He was unbelievably wasted, too.
"That way." Izzy pointed to the direction and Slash began to hobble as quick as he possibly could, pain sprouting through one of his most prized possessions, a large and extremely noticeable limp shadowing every step he graced.
Advancing into the darker part of the street, Slash heard the beckon of shuffling and a few mumbles of slurred protest, the noises drawing his limps toward their source. The sight before him sent him into a frustrated sigh, catching the attention of a slightly out of breath, intoxicated, British man. Slash raised a challenging eyebrow, checking behind where he pinned another figure down to see who it was. He hoped it wasn't Aveline - Slash didn't really feel like fighting this guy.
However it seemed luck was not on his side, the frightened stare of her piercing orbs staring directly through his angered gaze. Slash found himself approaching the scene with slow steps, an attempt of not only menacing threat but also to keep his balance.
"What're you doin', there, tough guy?" He questioned, putting on his coldest accent.
"Fuck off, Afro. This doesn't concern you." He scoffed, gradually standing. Aveline scampered backward - or attempted to, at least, slightly unsure of where she was with creatures surrounding the breathing walls.
Slash smiled toothily and nodded insincerely, "I guess you're right, man." He admitted, "My bad. I'll just let you carry on doing your thing, okay?"
"Thank you." The man spat, turning around and latching back onto Aveline as she made no attempt to fight back, her muscles weak and jelly-fied. Only, Slash was slowly firing himself up more and more, drifting into his classical fighting mood.
Slash had always loved to tackle the largest man in the bar - and if this was as close as he'd get, then he'd make it worth the while.
He lunged toward him, clashing his fist with the back of his head, a loud pain shooting through his wrist and knuckles as he hissed and cursed exaggeratedly; "Fuck!" He bellowed out, holding his joint and massaging the pain away. The stranger, now successfully slumbering and lying flat upon Aveline, sent a sneer to Slashes lips as he built up a wad of phlegm, spitting the mucus on the side of his face before latching onto the back of his shirt, tugging him roughly from Aveline's body.
"How you doin' Leanie?" He smiled sheepishly, tossing the heavy man from his grip, the loud clap of his body against the ground only widening his smile. "You ready to crash this party and catch some sleep?"
But Aveline was too out of it to speak, staring with wide eyes into his as the grin on his lips faltered slightly. She couldn't feel the weight of her head, but it was far too stiff to move, locked in position as dots of color invaded her line of vision.
"Leanie?" He continued, waving a hand before her distant stare. "Damn, man, what did you take?" Saul then huffed, curling his arms around her, one behind her knees and the other above her waist, and hoisted her up, using the wall of someones house to steady his drunken balance. Still, she didn't move an inch, staring straight ahead with a paled expression, her arms set in place upon her legs, trembling in the cool breeze, though her head did loll to the side, resting upon his collarbone fondly.
They took it slow, steadily and cautiously making their way with Saul's legs only buckling once or twice with incomprehensible quivering. At least his boner had gone, though. That made it far easier to move and carry Aveline back through the dissipating crowds.
As they returned to the scene, Slash called out a few threats as people refused to move out of their way, occasionally spitting in their direction if they called him some sort of British insult. God, they really didn't like American's over there. The bus door swung open and Izzy ushered the two inside, slamming the metal frame shut the moment they entered in order to prevent any unwanted company interrupting the muffled quiet of the bus.
"Is she okay?" He asked, brows drawn down with concern.
Slash nodded, slightly unsure of how to answer honestly. "I think so. She's tripping, though."
"Okay, just give her some chocolate or something. That usually helps." Slash nodded in agreement with the greasy haired mans suggestion, directing the poor girl to the living area of the bus, settling her down upon the couch and brushing the hair from her face, smiling pitifully in her direction.
He sighed and stroked the side of her head, his shoulders dragging down tiredly. "Drugs don't suit you, Leanie. Don't do that to yourself."
Aveline, although being on an entirely different planet with no conscious awareness of what was actually going on around her, reached out with her palm and placed it upon his chest, patting it gently thrice over, a way of showing her appreciation for the man as he felt his heart stutter at her subtle touch.
"Shit, man, I ain't ever letting you out of my sight again," He laughed, a quiet noise that screamed familiarity to Aveline and cranked the corners of her lips to a trembled tilt. "You know, Leanie, I have a tattoo on my ass." He grinned, the action tinted with a hint of heartache as he recalled the story to the girl, taking a seat on the floor and placing his hand in hers, spreading her fingers and replacing the gaps with his own, rubbing soothing circles with the pad of his thumb.
"Sloan designed it for me." He looked down as he mentioned her name, but for once, he felt no desire to cry, his eyes not glazing over and his throat not restricting. Aveline smiled encouragingly as he continued to speak. "It's fucking horrific, if I'm honest." He chuckled. "You wanna see my ass?"
Her smile widened and her nose crinkled in the way that Saul had always found entrancing and memorable, a sign for him to show her exactly what he was on about. Almost without a breath of hesitance, Saul stood up, effectively releasing his hold on Aveline's hand, and undid his button and zipper, exposing the snail trail. He felt a soft glaze of heat rising to his cheeks and attempted to reason with her, speaking gently. "I'm sorry if you see my dick." He joked, dropping his pants and quickly rushing to cover his junk, spinning around and moving his ass to perch slightly closer to her face, the perfect porn scene etched in permanent ink upon his skin as Aveline descended into a screech of uncanny laughter, unable to contain her giggles.
"You think it's funny, too, huh?" He grinned. "Try having every stripper you fuck look at your beautiful ass like it's a piece of trash."
She fell into a louder laugh, stomach sore from such racketing rumbles, a slight momentum of soberness finding its way back to her conscious. "Amazing." She rasped out between breathless snickers.
"Yeah, yeah," He scoffed bemusedly, tugging up his pants and zipping them up with ease, rolling his eyes jokingly and retaking his position upon the bus floor, flopping his head sideways to rest against Aveline's leg, her fingers mildly intertwining with his wiry, soft, locks. "What was that guys name?"
Aveline shrugged and closed her eyes, preparing to allow sleep to consume her. "I don't know."
"You gotta be more careful, Leanie, I don't want you to get hurt." He paused. "Who will I dance with then?" She giggled quietly and shrugged once again.
"You can dance by yourself, can't you?"
"Not the way you do it."
"Right."
"Hey, Leanie?"
She hummed in response, "You mind if I sleep here tonight?" He asked sheepishly. Her eyes flung open and she frowned with slight confusion.
"What?" She questioned, baffled as to why Saul would chose the floor over a far more comfortable bed - give or take a few harsh springs. "No, you can't do that. We're travelling all day tomorrow, Saul, you'll get a stiff neck."
"I'll be fine, I swear." He dismissed, nodding his head as though it'd help to back up his point.
"Look," She sighed, "There's room on the couch for two - if you don't wanna go back to the bunkers." Aveline was far too exhausted to move, never mind walk all the way to the opposing end of the bus, so it seemed the most sensible option.
He nodded with a kind smile, slowly rising and cracking his back loudly, a large yawn exiting his stretch as he took a leap of faith, thankfully landing on the inside of the couch, between the cushions and Aveline's body. She shuffled more toward the edge and turned on her side, eyelids drooping until the light became a slit, consumed in darkness, despite being awake, the task of holding open her eyes proving too difficult to manage. Saul slithered down beside her, facing the pillows, the feeling of his back pressed against Aveline's causing him to blush quietly.
Why was he so damned bashful around her lately? She wasn't exactly one to ridicule someone. The thought made him sigh and curse underneath his whisky tangled breath - the motion causing one thought to circle his mind. He didn't get his bottle of Monkey Shoulder. And then a second thought followed, his body uncomfortably sandwiched between the girl and the couch, and he momentarily closed his eyes, questioning how daring he felt.
Acting on impulse, a whispered; "To hell with it." fell from his tongue as he swiveled around and scooted Aveline backward with his arm wrapped around her stomach protectively, dragging her into his naked torso, mumbling a short "Goodnight." with a satisfied smirk dangling from his lips.
It was a shame Aveline had already drifted off into her bland dreams.