Chapter Text
Axl wasn’t exactly, well, vain. He knew that people found him “good looking” in some way or another, but he never paid much attention to it—he hardly ever had the time.
That was probably for the better.
Being out of a job more often than not while waiting for a record deal gave him a bit more time to do worry about it.
The redhead found himself spending hours before the mirror like a damn teen, teasing his hair, scrutinizing every flaw, picturing himself with a new haircut or just...staring. He couldn't see any of the so-called “beauty” people swore he had. His cheekbones were too sharp (getting by on weed and ramen probably helped with that), his eyes were too small, his nose wasn't exactly as straight as it could be. His lips were chapped (but walking around with chap-stick was fucking gay, even for him), he couldn't grow a beard to save his life and to top it all off, his hair was... fucking comically red.
It wasn't that he was ugly (nothing so drastic), he just... well he looked like his father. And that was a pain in the ass.
The redhead snorted, tugging at the loose strands of his hair. “You’re so vain, Princess.”
Of course he’d never let the others catch him in the act, and he usually limited his episodes to the “privacy” (if it could be labeled as such) of the tiny bathroom.
Unfortunately, Izzy, being the sneaky fucker that he was, managed to catch him red-handed once.
“What are you doing?” He asked, tilting his head in curiosity. The redhead's hands were placed firmly on the edges of the sink, face just inches away from his reflection. Suspicious indeed.
Axl froze, keeping his eyes locked on his reflection in the mirror. No way was he talking his way out of this. “You think I should dye my hair?”
The brunet quirked a brow. “What? Are we going glam now? Gonna get pink hair?”
“This isn’t about us, it’s about me.” Axl replied, thankful the tension was seeping out of the room. “It’s LA, right? Time for a new me. I’m sick of the red.” He tried to stop the disdain from leaking into his tone but if Izzy's flat expression was anything to go by, he had done a shitty job.
“Where’s this coming from?” Izzy frowned, allowing the redhead to brush pass him.
“From me. I wanna change it.” He muttered, chewing the corner of his thumb.
“Change what?” Steven chirped from his spot on the floor. How long was he just laying there? Did Izzy step over him to get in?
“My hair.”
Steven squinted up at the tangled red mass, apparently making his own calculations, before nodding decisively. “You’re right. I’ve always thought you’d look cool with a Mohawk and a beard. Like those guys from ZZ Top, ya know?”
“No fucking way.” Axl exclaimed, shuddering at the thought. “I meant the color, not shaving half of it off.” He hadn’t had a bare head since the day he was born, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember the feeling.
Steven sat up, lurching alarmingly a few times. “Blond. Go blond.”
“Did someone say Blond?” Someone bellowed for the direction of the kitchen. That would be Slash of course, since Duff was the only one with a job (no, drug dealing didn’t count). The guitarist appeared at the door, clinging to the wall for support (damn it, was everyone tripping balls in this house?). “Oh-Em-Gee—” Slash’s vocabulary just served to remind everyone he had a younger sibling “—you would totally rock blond hair!”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause your boyfriend’s blond.” Izzy accused, hating how the situation was spiraling out of control. No way in hell was his redhead turning into some bottle blond.
Slash frowned, considering it (as best as he could ‘consider’ anything while high off his ass). “Well,” He finally pronounced, “Duff is kinda hot.”
Steven groaned, “It’s hard enough living in a house of queers, please don’t start waxing poetic about your giant.”
“So that’s a yes on the blond thing, huh?” Axl asked absently, avoiding Izzy’s glare. Hell, he hadn’t protested when Izzy dyed his hair with that cheap blue-black mess of a dye.
“Definitely.”
“Fuck yeah!”
“No.” Izzy huffed, “Axl, what is—”
“Sorry kiddo, looks like you’re outnumbered three to one.” The soon-to-be-blond mumbled, slinking out of the room before Izzy could question him further.
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Izzy cornered Axl one night after he got in from “work”.
“So...”
The redhead jumped almost a foot into the air, biting back an unmanly squeal. “Izzy, what the fuck?”
“Wanna tell me what this hair thing is really about.” He soldiered on, smirking when Axl groaned.
“That was a fucking week ago, aren’t you over it?” It wasn’t liked he had scraped together enough money to buy a cheap bottle of dye, which he wrapped in plastic and stuffed under the sink.
Ok. He did.
“Are you?” Izzy asked slowly.
“It’s not a big deal.” The redhead grumbled after a moment of tense silence, stomping off in an attempt to declare the conversation over.
Izzy dragged a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t worry about it, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
His voice was muffled, but Axl heard, and dismissed, him anyway.
It seemed he would have to take care if things himself.
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“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Duff blinked at the men on the floor, angled towards the bathroom door, waiting in silence.
These fuckers were never silent without good reason.
“Axl’s dyeing his hair.” Slash slurred, beaming up at Duff. “Hey baby, we’ll have another blond in the band.”
“Like two dumb blonds weren’t enough.”
“Woah there.” Duff chuckled as he bent double to give Slash a hug of some sort. “Someone does not agree with this change.”
Izzy shrugged, ducking his head to hide a sinister smile. “Well, I’ll be in the hall having a smoke if you need me.”
Duff watched him go, completely puzzled. “Thought he’d want to be the first to see this.”
Their drummer shrugged, eyes glued to the door. “Well, he’s weird so don’t worry about it.”
Duff was about to raise another concern when the Axl’s deafening banshee scream echoed through the entire apartment.
“Maybe he doesn’t like blond?” Slash mused, scrambling to his feet and toward the door. There really was no need since Axl burst into the room flushed all the way down to his chest and dripping water all over the tiles.
He was also very naked. And... very, pink?
“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!” Axl roared, narrowing his eyes at the bunch. “One word about this and I swear to god I will rip your balls off and shove it down your throats!”
“Uh...” Stevie answered intelligently, blinking at Axl’s fuchsia hair. It was still red, it was just... pinker. He muffled his laughter in his hands, not even he was dumb enough to let a pissed off Axl hear him.
“I thought you were going blond,” Duff said just as Izzy walked in whistling.
“Oh... you’re done?” Izzy hummed. “That was quick.” He put his cigarette out on their piece of shit couch, carefully keeping it between him and Axl at all times.
“What the fuck did you do?” Axl asked calmly, still stark naked with no intentions of covering up. “I never even noticed till I was washin—”
“The brunet shrugged nonchalantly. “You wanted a change so...”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Axl swore, blue eyes darting around madly for something to toss at Izzy’s stupid little head. “I can’t fucking leave the house now, I—”
“Relax. It’s temporary, it’ll wash out.” Izzy said, strategically inching towards the door as Axl inched towards Steven’s baseball bat.
“We should definitely get outta the way.” Slash muttered, crawling on all fours towards their kitchen table. Duff could see the logic in that, so he followed suit.
Axl bared his teeth in a smile. “Hopefully your blood will wash out too.”
Ïzzy cleared his throat nervously; this might be the last thing he ever said in a while. “I just want you to know, we all love you exactly the way you are. No need to change anything.”
Axl spent the remaining hours of the day chasing Izzy with a bat—the fucker was fast on his feet—and even though he was fucking furious the little gypsy shit had even dared, the sentiment wasn’t lost on him.
It was sweet. In a twisted, Izzy kinda way.