Short piece of semi-fluff: Slash is going through withdrawal for Axl on his birthday.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Hey, Saul, you in there?” It was Axl, sounding concerned. “The party’s downstairs, babe.”
Slash groaned and buried himself further under the covers. HE hadn’t told anyone what he was doing; he’d wanted it to be a surprise. But he’d forgotten that his birthday would fall right in the middle of withdrawal.
The door opened and Axl came in, silhouetted against the hall light. His eyes fell on his guitarist’s body, curled up under the covers, and he let out a soft sigh, shut the door, and walked over to kneel beside the bed.
“Feeling bad, Saulie?”
Slash let out another muffled groan. “Axe…I…can you…” It hurt to talk; it was like all his bones were on fire. His stomach cramped up and he had to flex his throat muscles to keep from vomiting.
“What?” asked Axl softly, pushing the covers back slightly so that Slash’s forehead and eyes were visible. “What do you need?”
By intense force of will, Slash managed to force back the queasy, churning feeling in his stomach. “Axl, I—I’m in heroin remission right now…I didn’t want to tell you, but…I decided to go clean for you, and…it hurts.”
Something softened in Axl’s sharp green eyes, and for a moment the younger man was convinced he saw tears there.
“You’re going cold turkey for me?” Slash nodded. “Baby, you didn’t have to do that! It’s your birthday; you should be downstairs, eating cake and playing guitar and shooting up with Duff like you always do.”
“I…I know how you feel about my addiction…”
“Honey, no, I don’t care that much…besides, I’ve got my own addictions to take care of, you know that.” And then, because Slash did not look any happier, he sighed.
“Move over,” he said.
The guitarist scooted to the right and Axl pulled the sheets back all the way and lay down next to him. He covered him, pale cool skin on dark hot sweat. Slash snuggled his head against the hollow of Axl’s neck and the singer gently kissed his forehead.
“Happy Birthday, Saul,” he murmured.
Slash smiled faintly, grateful for this man, with his red hair and his temper and his beautiful voice. Some people never find themselves in a relationship with someone who completes them, gives themselves fully over; someone who is so exactly opposite of you that they become your second half.
As Slash fell asleep in Axl’s arms, it occurred to him that he was the luckiest man alive.