FicWad

The atmosphere was clamoring, arduous and he felt himself choke slightly. He always knew the Brit he met at a strip club one day was going to be hard to get along with. Heck, there she were dancing in dashing cherry underwear that blessed her skin tone, and he purposely tripped her up, and she tailed him out into the Strip and halfway down it before he surrendered and she bet him up. It was a brilliant way to start a relationship, the most romantic of ways. She had only moved to Los Angeles two year ago, and worked in a strippers bar for money, then a year later he met her. She had a full fringe that she had to lift her head up to look under from, black hair that reached her shoulders and choppy layers that were always teased. She had sunken brown eyes and a quick, Yorkshire accent with a slight lisp. She was everything he hated in a woman, yes she was sweet and the most enchanting lady he had laid his eyes on - and trust me, Duff McKagan had seen many a girl. However, she was hot headed, paranoid, stubborn; to name a few. Yet he had no idea why he was so drawn to her. He never knew when she was going to flip and he was always on his toes - and I guess he liked that.

Pixie Von, a name she adapted to on arrival, was stood there in one of Duff's shirts that hung loose on her and dropped below her butt. Her face was drained and her hair in a high bun. It was six a.m and she was screaming at him, going red in the face over... wait, he forgot. He was sick of being yelled at by her, she always caught him off guard and in all honesty he was scared of her. When she lost her temper she would throw things, sharp things. Duff just leaned up against the fridge and watched until all her anger had flooded out, and then when she was left panting, trying to catch her breath and calm down, he stepped in. He pushed himself from the fridge and took a step forward.

"Slow down," he smiled, his voice cracking. He took another step and watched her stiffen up, and her eyes widen up. He took her small hands in his and dragged her from the chilly spot in the kitchen to the couch. He held her by the shoulders and knelt slightly to get to her height. "Lie down, remember it's just you and me."

He tipped her back slowly and let her drop on the couch, and then put one knee besides her. "Don't sell out, remember how this used to be."

Duff was now straddling her small body, sat on her waist legs either side. His dirty blonde hair fell in knotty tufts in front of his eyes, and he kept sweeping it back. He looked directly into Pixie's eyes, knowing it made her uncomfortable. "I just want you closer," he stifled a laugh, "is that alright?"

Pixie just shrugged, her eyebrows still furrowed, showing there was still some anger in there. "Baby, let's get closer tonight." Pixie had had enough, and obviously got out of the little trance he put her in. She bucked her hips making him unsteady then pushed him from top of her, sending him to the ground. She didn't care if she woke the others, she would kick Axl's ass if he tried coming in and yelling at them for the noise. She got up and stormed to the other side of the room, with her arms crossed over her chest. Duff got up and stood to his feet, he was only in boxers which made his legs look longer. "Grant my last request and just let me hold you!" Duff begged, Pixie just scowled. "Don't shrug your shoulders, lay down beside me."

"Get a grip, you fucking idiot." Pixie laughed, because Duff was acting out of the ordinary tonight. Maybe it was because he was sober.

"Sure I can accept that we're going no where, but one last time let's go there." He smiled, tuning his words into some sort of sing song.

"What do ya' mean we ain't goin' nowhere?!" Pixie asked, scrunching her nose, ready to scream and paddy again. Duff sighed and run his hands through his hair, only for his fringe to fall in front of his eyes once more.

"All you ever do is shout at me... yell at me.. I'm starting to think you don't love me." he said meakly. Pixie's scowl softened up, and Duff held his arms open. She took one step forward, and it felt like forever until she fell into his arms, and he fell back onto the couch. She lie between his legs, her face buried into his chest, his fingers running through her hair.

She whispered, "You think I don't love you, Duff?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's hard to discern love from hate when all you get is hate."

She frowned slightly. "I don't hate you, Duff," she said. "I love you, of course I do"

Duff just let air out that he was tensley holding in, then smiled. And did nothing but sit there, trailing his hand up and down her back doing nothing but cuddling her.

Just like he liked it.