Axl comes home after a week-long trip. Pointless fluff.
Suddenly, the front door opened, and a familiar, deep voice called, “Anyone home?” Slash felt his heart leap in his chest as he realized that Axl was back after his week-long trip with Izzy to see their families in Lafayette. He peeked over the back of the couch and watched as Axl tossed his bags on the floor of the apartment they all shared and reached into his jeans pocket for what was probably his first cigarette in seven days. Slash smiled to himself. He decided he would surprise Axl and flopped back down out of sight, just as the redhead glanced back up. Voice muffled slightly now by the cigarette clamped between his teeth, Axl called again:
“I see the TV on… somebody’s here.” Slash listened as Axl’s footsteps came closer; a moment later, his entire vision range was filled by Axl’s face. Soft copper hair brushed gently against Slash’s cheek, and he caught a glimpse of those haunting emerald eyes before Axl’s lips were on his.
“Not even gonna say ‘hey’ to me, Saul?” he asked, between soft kisses that fell like rainwater, but Slash could tell from his voice that he really wasn’t upset. Axl crawled onto the sofa, and Slash looped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. For a while, there was silence as they twined their limbs together, kisses pulling quiet moans from the backs of their throats, then Axl rested his cheek against Slash’s shoulder and sighed happily. They lay with their chests pressed together, fingers tangled.
“How was Indiana?”
“Boring.” Axl laughed, and Slash joined him, stroking his hair. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too,” Slash murmured, kissing Axl’s forehead. “Wanna watch a movie? Duff rented some dumb shit the other night that we could make fun of…”
Axl grinned, curling a strand of Slash’s hair around his finger. “All right,” he said, reaching for the remote. He turned on the VCR, and a moment later the VHS was rolling.
Slash didn’t notice the title. He didn’t really care about the movie. He gazed at Axl, so beautiful above him, and the singer looked down, smiled, and kissed Slash again.
“Love you, Saul,” he said, shifting slightly and resting his head on the guitarist’s chest.
“Love you too, Ax,” Slash replied softly, still running his fingers through his hair, inhaling his familiar scent. It was always nice when Axl came home after being away for a while.
After a few minutes, Slash drifted off to sleep, a small smile still on his lips as Axl’s fingers traced quiet patterns against the palm of his hand.