~The Izzy Cam~

Dylan jumped awake in the midst of all the yelling, watching with wide eyes as Skipper shot her anger in Axl's direction. She left in a huff for reasons unknown to him, followed by the scruffy brown man with curly hair.

Dylan's eyes watered as she went, averting to his red-haired father figure. He was pacing frustratedly before he pounded his fist against the wall, "Fuck!"

He stormed toward the door but Izzy placed a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from leaving.

"I don't think you should do that, give her some space for a little bit. We've all done enough."

"I'm not letting her leave here with him!"

Duff stood. "He's right. Don't go." They all reluctantly took a seat, just staring at each other.

A little while passed before Axl looked up again, hands threading through his hair repeatedly. "You guys know I love her, right? You know I'm not some fucked up racist?"

Dylan slid off of the couch, tears dotting his cheeks. "Mama?" He said quietly, but no one even looked at him. He toddled over to the door Skipper used to leave, pressing both of his tiny hands against it. "Mama? Mama!" He began to sob hysterically, curling up into a ball and leaning against the wooden barrier between him and Skipper, so he thought.

Axl went to him and gathered the small child into his arms. "She'll come back," he said, more to himself than to Dylan.

****

Skipper's POV

"Make sure to wipe your feet super thoroughly whenever we go in there. If she had her way you'd have to take your shoes off, but that's fuckin' weird."

I laugh to myself as we approach an old two-story house that looks like it's straight out of the 1950's, nestled away in a sleepy little neighborhood. The houses look tiny and cozy, nothing but faint lights in the windows indicating actual human activity. The front yards are manicured and green, the lightning bugs glow in the night only to disappear seconds later. The slightly annoying song of cicadas buzzing marks a perfect late summer night.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Look her directly in the eye, if you don't she'll think you're disrespecting her. Try not to cuss, but we probably will anyway. Oh, and if you drink anything make sure not to put it directly onto the counter without a coaster, she hates the water rings."

I sigh, rolling my eyes dramatically. "Slash, you forget that it's my job to interact with people on a daily basis. As much as I may hate it, I'll be fine. I'm good at talking to adults."

Slash stamps out his cigarette as we walk up the front porch, decorated with little statuettes and knickknacks that only an old person could appreciate. "Yeah, but you don't know my grandma."

"You make her sound like the devil or something," I scoff as we reach the front door.

"She's already gonna hate us for showing up after ten, nevermind the fact that I haven't even called her since I was sixteen."

I'm ringing the doorbell as he says this. "Wait... what the fuck?"

"That's when I left town with Axl, she didn't exactly approve of that."

I don't have time to slap the shit out of him before the door flies open, revealing a tiny woman with slitted eyes. She's even shorter than me, which is pretty hard to do. Her grey-streaked hair is pulled back tightly, her plump shape is masked by a floral nightgown. She looks like her smell resembles that of a department store.

She says nothing, so I just look back at Slash. He looks like he regrets ever being born.

"Saul... Hudson." She says his name slowly, considering each syllable carefully the way one might savor a new dish at a restaurant. Slash sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Hi, grandma."

"Get your scrawny butt over here and stop acting so brand new!"

"I'm not scrawny anymore grandma, I actually work out now-"

"Saul!"

Like lightning she grabs him by the ear, tugging him through the doorway and into the house. I grin wildly as she embraces him like she has no intention of ever letting go, running a gentle hand over his hair.

"What in the lord's name is wrong with you, I haven't seen you in years! Running around half naked, chasing girls, smoking, drinking!"

Slash's facial expression suggests that he's heard this before, so he turns to face me. "This is my... uh.."

"Friend," I clear my throat, holding a hand out to her. "I'm his friend."

"No she's not," Slash says benignly as his grandma ignores my hand and wraps her arms around me. "Oh!" I gasp, biting down on my lip as air is crushed from my lungs. I was right about her smell.

"I'm Skipper... Nelson. I'm a good friend of his." She shuts the door behind the both of us, pointing to the mat.

"Shoes off, both of you. I don't know if you're hungry or not, but you're going to eat. I had some cube steak and rice for dinner." Slash sighs as I willingly kick off my Louboutins, stretching my arms over my head.

"That's okay, I don't need anything-"

"Nonsense," the woman says, walking down the narrowish hallway and turning left. Another light comes on, illuminating the area.

"We had slurpees and Razzles," I protest, following Slash to the kitchen. It's just as fifties on the inside as it is the out, with old-fashioned appliances and tiles.

"That's nothing but childish garbage. Growing children need good food."

I refrain from highlighting that I stopped growing in seventh grade.

Slash plops down into a seat at the little wooden table, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I'm twenty-two, grandma."

"Yes, a child." I stifle laughter, pointing as she places two plates piled high with food into the oven instead of using a microwave like a regular person. Slash just rolls his eyes, reaching into the bowl on the center of the table to play with a piece of fruit.

"Now, who are you, child?" she says, pointing at me with a fork.

"Um... I'm a surgeon," I tell her weakly, staring at the fancy placemats.

"A surgeon? A little thing like you?" I want to say she's one to talk, but instead I nod my head.

"Yeah, I've been working for three years. I went through med school in eighteen months, the fastest anyone ever has."

"You've probably heard of her before, she's pretty famous."

She shook her head, retrieving the plates from the oven and setting them down before us. Slash starts to eat ravenously, to his grandma's great approval. I just give her a polite nod as she sits, staring at me.

"A doctor. That must mean you're pretty smart."

"I... yeah." I'm slightly repulsed at the smell of meat, and the sight of Slash gobbling it so hastily.

"See, this is the kind of girl I wanted you to bring home before, Saul. Not those scrawny white girls, they have no idea how to please a man."

I blush wildly as Slash stiffles a burp on the back of his hand. "I only ever had one girlfriend, Grandma. Tamara was Samoan."

I politely push my plate in his direction, and he begins eating off of it.

"And I'm not his girlfriend, with all due respect miss. I have a-"

"Nonsense, where do you come from?"

"Um... Minneapolis, originally. I've lived in New York for the past couple years, though. Great city."

Slash smiles to himself as he fills his mouth with more cube steak, I resist the urge to pinch his leg beneath the table.

"Minneapolis? What a swingin' place, I went to the First Avenue club a few years back, uh... Prince, I saw him. That man can play guitar," she says dreamily, and Slash lets his eyes fall shut.

"Damn it, grandma-"

"You watch your language in this house." Her eyes are suddenly sharper than knives.

"Yeah, uh... Prince is my father."

Her eyes pop out of her head at that, and she draws in a breath. "Now there are two things in this world I can't stand, anti-christians and liars."

Slash's fork clatters against his plate and he glares at her. "Grandma, Saul is a Jewish name, and apparently 'Jesus' was a jew."

She completely ignores him, squinting at me. "You're lying to me, girl?"

"No, I swear it. Here." I dig my wallet out of my pocket and slide an old photo out of it, one my Dad gave me himself. "This was me a few years back, when I met George Michael. My father's right there, see?" I pointed, and she squinted some more.

"Well I'll be! My baby brought home a celebrity, it's about time!"

"Grandma, I'm a celebrity!"

"Sure, sure. It's nice to meet you, little Nelson. Aren't you gonna eat something, dear?"

"I'm not hungry, it's okay. I'm just a bit tired is all, do you have a spare room?"

"Don't be stupid, darling. You and Saul can stay in his old bedroom." I swallow hard, wishing I had something to drink.

"Um.. is it possible that you have an extra... separate room? I kinda have a-"

"A modest one too, Saul? Boy is she a trophy."

Slash nods, scraping up the last bit of rice and gravy. "Yeah, she really is."

I glower at him but he only grins at me in return, offering a playful wink. I do pinch him this time, standing abruptly just as he reacts. "Ow, shit-"

"Well, I'm pretty tired, we should head up there then."

"Yeah," Slash grumbles, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out of the kitchen.

"And you'd better not have sex in this house! You may be moved out now, but the rules still apply!"

Slash laughs pervertedly. "No promises!" I wonder if the grandma knows how much of a virgin Slash is, but I don't wanna admit it out loud for his sake. Also, if she doesn't want us having sex why the hell would she force me to share his room?

"It's not happening!" I yell down as we reach the second floor, and Slash pushes open the first door on the right.

"Yeah, but we could just do it outside the house." I scowl at him as he flips on the lightswitch, revealing exactly what I would have imagined his room to look like.

The walls are red and scuffed, but you can hardly tell through the layers of posters and magazine covers that have been taped to them. It's been years yet the place is still a mess, clothes tossed in places they shouldn't be, the single bed is barely made. There's a desk in the corner with some dusty sheets of paper on it, a TV opposite the bed. There's a guitar or two propped up against the desk, and I would guess there are some Playboys underneath his mattress.

"Aw, I can just imagine a little Slash living in here!" I gush.

He laughs sheepishly, drifing over to the bed. "Yeah, imagine a little Steven in here too. I lived, breathed and masturbated in this room. Constantly."

I cringe, making a face while he laughs, opening one of his dresser drawers. "You wish I was kidding."

I clear my throat uncomfortably, "A little."

He gets a shoe box out from his dresser drawer, botting the lid open. "Ha! It's still here, sweet."

I walk over to look. "What is it?"

"Me and Steven's pot stash. The smell used to drive my grandma crazy, Axl knew but no one else ever did."

I scoff. "Well, it's old as shit now."

He shrugs, shoving the box back among the socks and undershirts. "Yeah, it's no good."

I turn to the bed, crossing my arms. "How does she expect us to share that?"

"I have no fucking clue, but you can have it. Just give me a pillow and I'll be cool."

I stare at the bed, and then back at him. "Um... she changed the sheets, right?"

"Yes, you idiot."

I approach it reluctantly, plopping down onto the box spring. "Well, I'm tired as shit." I throw him one of the pillows from the head of the bed and lie down, letting a long breath escape me. He flicks off the lights, and the next time I look at him he's recumbent on the floor beside the bed.

"Yeah, I... hope you feel better about everything in the morning." I doubt I will. We fall into silence for a little while, drowsiness pulling at me.

"If you find any cum stains, I apologize in advance."

"Ugh, you nasty!"

His laugh is a warm and rich sound, it fills my heart and the room. "Don't worry, you won't find any. I'm playing with you."

After that it takes me a while to fall asleep.

I don't know if I'm hallucinating or not, but just as I'm about to fall asleep I hear something rustling in the dark. I don't dare to open my eyes as Slash peels back the blanket and slides into the tiny bed with me, spooning my body with his own. I try not to let my breathing change as he pulls the blanket up back over the both of us, softly stroking the roots of my hair with gentle fingers.

I don't move as his arm slides over my waist and pulls me even closer if that's possible, and his lips press against my ear. He stops moving after this, and he's asleep just like that.

I can recall many times we've fallen asleep this way, in the exact same position more or less. I never thought of it as intimate until this moment.

Man fuck Rosie right now still. Slipper 4ever! *heart eyes emoji*

SLIPPER IS MY HEART AND SOUL💖💖❤️💖😍😍

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