Chapter Text
Duff spent the first two minutes staring at Izzy in silence. The brunet stared right back, frowning as he fought some internal battle. Duff could wait—not that he had much of a choice.
When Izzy finally opened his mouth, what came out was: "You really can't take a fucking clue."
Yeah, no. Duff, in fact, could not do this. He scrambled to the door, banging his fists against the hardwood. "Axl?! Slash? I swear to God if you don't open this door I'll break every bone in your puny bodies."
Outside, a terrified Axl shared a look of horror with Slash.
The redhead gulped. "You think maybe we should—?"
"Nope." Steven said, throwing an arm over Axl's shoulder. "Don't pussy out now. He's gonna kill us anyway."
That didn't exactly reassure anyone, but it was the best they were going to get.
Izzy watched, endlessly amused, as the fight drained out of the blond. Sighing, Duff slipped to the floor, stretching his long legs out before him.
Izzy grinned. "Ready to talk?"
"Fuck you." He snapped, still refusing to look Izzy in the eye
"I'll take that as a yes." Izzy sighed, choosing his words carefully. "You didn't let me finish last time."
Duff snorted, "How many ways could you possibly end that sentence?"
"Uhm, how about 'what the fuck do you think we've been doing all this time'?" Izzy hissed, needing to get his point across, because god knows he didn't spend that much money dragging Mike to all those fancy restaurants for nothing.
Duff was hyper-aware he was staring blankly with his mouth hanging open, not unlike Steven an absolute idiot (and so was Izzy, judging by his unimpressed expression). "What?" He managed after getting enough air, his brain was buzzing uselessly, trying to make sense of… whatever.
Izzy's hands clenched on his knee, eyes dark and filled with irritation. Seriously, Axl had warned him about the temper thing. Slash had also warned him about Duff being clueless, but he hadn't actually expected it to be this bad. "You gotta be fucking blind to—" He broke off with a sigh, digging through his jacket pockets till he came upon a crumpled piece of paper. "Axl helped me out."
Duff watched, bemused. "With what? The kidnapping?"
Izzy ignored him with practised ease—he needed a lot more than ‘just a little patience’ for this one. "Michael Andrew McKagan," he began, clearly struggling to go on. "I like your hair even though I hate blonds. Which is fine ‘cause you technically aren't blonde. I've only ever seen your brown hair once... I kinda wish you'd stop dyeing it—" He was rambling on like a nervous fool but he couldn't help it.
Huh? What did hair dye have to do with this? "Wha—"
Izzy rolled his eyes but continued. "I like your smile, and your stupid, faded blue jeans; seriously where'd you get them, Goodwill?" Duff snorted, because only Izzy would drop fashion advice into his fucking—his...
What was this, anyway? A fucking... love letter?
This wasn't happening. He had hit his head when Slash shoved him in here and this was all just his fucking imagination.
"—I like your bass lines, lyrics and your political jokes I don't always get. I like your voice and your obsession with 'Pawn Stars'. I like how kind you are, and how much you care for those retards, and basically every other human being—I still don’t get why. I really like listening to you ramble in an interview, or undress onstage—"
Duff bit back a giggle, "I'm not obsessed—" Yeah, because he had Priorities. That was clearly the only issue he had with the list so far.
"Babe, you're obsessed." Izzy said mildly and the blond decided just then that 'babe' was his new favorite word—at least when Izzy said it. "Please, shut up, let me finish my list."
"Alright." Because that was about as polite as Izzy got.
"I like your tats, and your ass and how much of a nerd you are. I like watching you dance to Tom Petty in the living room when you think no one's watching. I could go on forever, but Axl made me take all the dirty things out." The brunette said coyly, eyes downcast. God, was he blushing?
Yup. Maybe that hit on the head killed him and he was in heaven.
Duff's mouth was desert-dry. "Izzy..." He hated how much that sounded like a plea.
The brunet shook his head. "Bottom line, I like you, you dumb fuck." He very carefully didn't look at all the 'loves' he crossed out twice so he didn't mistakenly (truthfully) say them. "So no, you don't know how to take a clue."
Ah, there was the Izzy Duff knew and loved liked.
"Well, I— you never said anything."
The brunette's eyes were so wide Duff almost laughed. "What the fuck do you mean? We've been dating for months."
That was about where Duff's brain short circuited the second time.
---------
"How're they doing?" Slash murmured when Axl finally emerged from the room again.
Axl shrugged nonchalantly, "Well they're talking, pretty sure Izzy is going through the list."
"The list?" Steven asked, shoving some unidentified—god what was he eating—into his already full mouth.
"I helped him make a list last night." More like he edited it so it was decent for airplay because Jesus fuck, Izzy had quite a mouth on him. He now, unfortunately, knew how much Izzy valued Duff's erm, parts. "I can't help but think about how much money the swear jar would've made if the conversation wasn't off record."
"Hey, how come he didn't ask us for help?" The drummer whined, wrinkling his nose. He was very helpful as far as he was concerned.
"Because..." The redhead twisted a lock of his hair around his finger. "I'm his best friend."
"Dad doesn't have favorites." Steven was pretty sure Izzy regarded everyone with equal and unbiased indifference.
Axl laughed at that. "He does, and it's me." It totally was, fourteen years of history had to count for something. "He's known me longer."
Steven just blinked, nonplussed. "Doesn't that just mean he has hated you longer?"
"You shut your whore mouth!" He snapped, because Izzy basically told him the same thing after he tried gloating about it last night.
Slash sighed heavily, great, now they were competing for favor. He just wanted some pizza.
--------
About an hour had passed and Duff's mind was still raising weak—but totally relevant —protests.
"Let's go through this again." And god, Izzy had the patience of a...an extremely patient thing. "When exactly — we're dating!?" Holy shit, was this what Slash's cryptic little comment was about?
"We eat together almost every week." Izzy was fiddling with a suede coat, pouting —actually pouting.
Well, yeah. "Because we're the only people in this band that like Italian."
Izzy huffed a little breath of laughter, both exasperated and a bit amused. "Mike, I hate Italian."
"Bu—"
"I took you out to Italian because you like it." Really? He even allowed Duff to order for them both every single time. Also, he couldn't pronounce anything on the menu either.
"I—" well, that would explain why Izzy always ordered Salad and got really red in the face when Duff offered him food.
"We have movie night together." Izzy continued, enunciating carefully. Who could say Duff understood anything coming out of his mouth? He'd already manage to misunderstand two months of wooing. (Izzy refused to consider he might have been bad at wooing).
"Yeah, to escape the lunatics we live with most the time." Because that was what Duff thought was happening. Why else would Izzy want to hang out with him?
"We held hands through the whole thing..." Izzy said drily. "You've slept in my fucking arms."
"I... Thought that was a bro thing?" Saying it out loud made him feel like a stupid frat boy (but Axl insisted he and Slash had a bro thing and it was totally normal— holy fuck, he was an idiot; he'd been in Axlesque denial). But Izzy would always let go as soon as they were in public and Duff just assumed it was an Izzy thing. "I mean, you always pulled away when we were in public."
"Paparazzi." The brunette forced out. "Unless that was how you wanted your mom to find out."
"Oh." Yeah, oh. The fame thing. The not out yet thing. "We've never even kissed."
"We have." Izzy grit out, before clambering unsteadily to his feet. Yeah, maybe expecting Duff to remember when he had tasted and smelled like a mini bar that night— drunk off his very nice ass— was a bad idea. "Fuck you very much." For fucking months he'd been struggling with this, he'd even turned to Axl to help him plan dates—and the little shit hadn't let him hear the end of it ever since.
"Izzy, please." The blond sighed, clutching at Izzy's jacket. "Just... Sit."
And what was Izzy to do but plant his ass next to Duff's and shut up?
"When?" Because he really would have remembered something like that.
"Few times." Izzy's face flamed. "You were drunk but, you almost always are so... I didn't think much of it."
So, those hadn't been hyper-realistic dreams? "Oh god, I thought I'd imagined that shit."
"I mean, you kept staring at me in the morning, like you remembered, like you were ready to jump me in front of everyone. I assumed you never did anything about it because you were...coping."
"With what?" The only thing he was coping with was the expected rejection.
"With me... Being male. I didn't push it, though I couldn't resist the flirting." Izzy shrugged, and Duff’s poor brain tried to come to terms with the fact that those times weren’t just jokes. "It kinda looked like you needed to get drunk to—"
"God, I'm so sorry Izzy. I've dated men before, this isn't a problem." His face was still buried in his hands. "I just thought this meant something different to you. I mean it was all jokes and laughs, I couldn't tell—"
"Italian restaurants, Mike." Izzy intoned. "Weekly." Because suffering through terrible food was a pretty good indicator of 'I want to bang you'. Duff was Irish anyway, why the fuck did he even like Italian?
That set them both off, clutching at each other as they laughed at their ridiculous situation.
"So what you're saying is," Duff said, "we're idiots?" All this time writing shit off as "normal" or "just a joke", fuck, for months.
"Mostly you, but yeah." Izzy was not taking the blame for this, "Everyone else thought—
But Duff wasn't about to sit around and be insulted (as usual), so he yanked Izzy forward by his jacket and finally kissed him like he always wanted to (and apparently did while drunk).
And all Izzy could think was that he tasted like cigars, and best of all, he tasted sober.
Maybe sober was a bit of a stretch, because he could definitely taste vodka (maybe that was just a Duff thing). So... Not like a minibar at least.
--------
It was deathly quiet except for the constant thud of Axl's footfalls on the floor.
Axl was pacing, lithe body overflowing with anxiety. "What if they change their minds and murder each other?"
Slash rolled his eyes. "Seriously? They're not gonna kill each other."
"We don't know that." Steven pointed out unhelpfully, because that's all the fucker aimed to be.
"Will! Where are you going?" Slash yelled, because Axl was dashing back into the room muttering to help himself.
"To prevent a homicide." Axl replied, hands shaking as he opened the door before yanking it out. "Guys, we love you, please don't strangle each other."
He really, really, really, really, really wished he hadn't.
Unfortunately Izzy's hand was down Duff's pants and the blond was clinging to his shoulders for dear life, brows furrowed as he let out soft little moans (and Axl was totally gonna tease him about that later if he survived the beat down he would get for this little scheme).
He cleared his throat."Oops?"
"Get out. Or I'll really kill you this time." Izzy snapped, and Axl's feet moved on their own accord.
Slash watched, perplexed, as Axl flew out the room, slamming the door behind him. "Move. Now."
Steven barely had time to stumble to his feet before the redhead was dragging them towards the elevator and to safety.
"Christ, what happened?" Slash huffed once they got to the lobby.
"Nothing. Nothing happened. Why'd you think something happened? I didn't see anything." Ah yes, subtle and smooth as usual. Axl: 1 World: 0
Steven snorted, "Oh... That kind of nothing."
Ok, apparently Axl: 0 , Dickwad: 1. "Shut up, Dickwad."
The drummer just grinned."Swear jar."
"Yeah well, Duff isn't here to make me pay up and you won't be telling them anything."
"Fine." The blond jerked his arm away, wandering off to the food court. "Why are you even holding hands with Slash still?"
The brunette had noticed, but of course he didn't want it to end.
"Mind your own business." Axl said, squeezing Slash's hand in his.
Steven seemed to consider this for a while. "Isn't that technically incest?"
"Well they're technically not our parents, so no."
"Besides, I'm the son-in-law." Slash added, because he'd been doing some thinking of his own. "I married into this family." Obviously Princess Axl was Izzy’s only daughter.
That sent Steven into a fit of giggles and Axl dutifully distracted himself from examining exactly why he was still clinging to Slash's hand.
--------
"Did we scare the children?" Duff murmured between kisses, gripping Izzy's arm because he was determined not to stop—even when Axl had walked in (not that Duff was helpful in the whole ‘stopping’ area).
"That's what they get for snooping."
"Aah—fuck. Shouldn't we uh, move to the bed?" Ok, now he was just complaining to make things difficult, he couldn’t care less about where Izzy fucked him. On stage would be good.
The closet would be good. The lobby would be good too—the jail cell the police would throw them in would also be ideal.
"We're perfectly comfortable here." Izzy reasoned, trying to distract Duff with his words in order to get his fingers back around—
A light bulb went off in Duff’s head. "Please, Daddy?" He almost choked on it, the embarrassment rising hot in his throat, but it felt so good to say those words, to feel Izzy still beneath him, releasing an almost inaudible sound of need.
"Michael..."
"Woah," He breathed, laughing weakly. "Wow, you're really into that."
"And you aren't?" A pointed glance at Duff's lap emphasized his point.
Rude gypsy bastard. "OK, yeah, fuck you. Or you fuck me, now."
Izzy hummed, pretending to consider this request for a while. "I can do that."
Duff was really gonna kick his ass eventually.
-------
"So...?" Slash was really proud of his conversation openers.
Axl paused, slice of pizza halfway to his open mouth. Waiting.
He cleared his throat and tried again. "So uh... You're not wearing your ring?"
The redhead lowered his pizza, searching for the right words. "We finalized our divorce last week."
Slash ignored the flare of happiness in his chest. "I'm so sorry to hear that." Because that was the polite thing to say, right?
Axl smiled demurely, "No, you're not, and I'm not either."
"I'm sure Evrin was a nice girl," he had never really spoken to her; she avoided him like the plague and fled the room whenever he entered but he was sure she was... Something.
"Erin." Axl said, rolling his eyes heavenwards. "Erin was nice for a while, but Erin demanded like a hundred grand."
"Hmm, never saw that one coming." His brain cheerfully reminded him that Axl probably saw her coming and his fist closed on his tin of coke so hard the sticky beverage flowed unto his hand. Yeah, no wonder she avoided him. He probably looked ready to murder her every time he saw her. Bitch. "What for?"
"To keep her mouth shut." Axl shrugged and turned his attention to his pizza. "About us."
"Us?"He quirked a brow, just for Being Difficult's sake.
"Yeah, us." Axl sighed. "Look do you still...want to give this a go?"
"Hm?" Slash aimed for nonchalant, but he was smiling so hard he was sure he missed the mark. "If you want. For real this time."
"Good."
"Good." Better than good. Fucking Great.
"Gross." Steven groaned, walking into the room and eyeing them suspiciously. "You two are at it again."
"Yeah, Stevie." Slash leaned back in his chair, laughing a bit.
Steven rolled his eyes. "And those two upstairs are at it too."
"Yeah." Not that they needed to be reminded of that.
Apparently they were done, because an extremely satisfied looking Izzy sauntered into the living room.
Axl winked at Izzy. "Where's Mum?"
"Sleeping." Izzy grinned in that 'I'm about to disturb you all' way. "You know how he gets after he—"
"NO, WE DON'T KNOW." Axl said loudly, just as Slash moaned: "WE DON'T WANT TO."
Steven, unfortunately, looked intrigued. "After what?"
"Steven—"
"No—"
Izzy sprawled comfortably on the couch, warming up to the subject. "Well Steven, when two to fifteen people are in love—and I don't recommend more than fifteen..."
Axl and Slash fled to safety though Steven stayed to listen attentively.
It was quite the educational discussion.
------
Duff was braiding Izzy's hair a few days later (Izzy only agreed after several puppy faces) when he remembered something.
"Steven said you taught him something new." He said, casually enough—he hoped.
Izzy peered up at him, "He doesn't know anything, a crushed piece of paper could teach him something new."
"Stop it." Duff said, chuckling a little. "He said you told him when people were in love..."
"Mmm, oh that? Yeah. I was going for the 'gross out' method." He failed, nothing grosses Steven out.
The blond rolled his eyes, carefully gathering small locks of Izzy's hair. "Is that what this is?"
"What? Gross?" Seriously, Duff was confusing as hell. "Aw honey, you know—"
"Love, Jeffrey." Duff snapped. "Are we in love?"
Izzy was quiet for a while. "Uhm... So... I thought this was obvious?"
"Oh no, here we go—"
Izzy sat up quickly, head almost connecting with Duff's face. "Jeez, Mama, you seriously cannot take a hint—" Kissing was a perfectly acceptable way to shut up mouthy gypsy fuckers—Duff swore by it.