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We Will Rock This Sweet Child	By : Y2marmar Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Velvet Revolver Views: 958 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Velvet Revolver. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Fucked Up and Outta Place

Brian May gasped as Duff McKagan pushed himself deeper and harder inside the Queen guitarist.
“Bloody hell Duff!” he panted.
“Am I hurting you?” the Guns n Roses bassist stopped pushing and looked down anxiously at Brian.
“Yes, but don’t stop for Christ’s sake,”
Duff grinned and started pushing himself in again. They continued like this for a few more minutes before Brian climaxed against Duff’s stomach. Duff pulled himself out and the two men lay side-by-side, exhausted and sweating. Soon Brian drifted off to sleep. Duff waited until he was sure Brian was asleep and he got out of the bed. He shivered as a cold breeze blew in the window and pulled on some clothes. Downstairs in Brian’s huge kitchen, Duff rooted around in his overnight bag. He found some smack and a bottle of vodka and sat down.
An hour later Duff gulped down the last of the vodka headed back upstairs to Brian, who was coming out of the bathroom. Duff wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck and kissed him.
“Hey there, did you miss me?” he drawled.
“You’re drunk,” Brian said in an accusing tone.
“I’m just a bit tipsy,” Duff giggled.
“I thought you said you’d given up,” Brian said. Duff shrugged.
“I tried, but you know how it is. It wasn’t my fault,”
“Of course it wasn’t,” Brian said sarcastically, “The vodka just poured itself down your throat,” This made Duff laugh.
“No, dude, that’s not what happened,” he said, “There was this party and Slash was like ‘Dude have a drink’ and I was all ‘No, I’ve given up,’ but he kept saying ‘Dude have a drink’ and I was like…”
“And you’re stoned,” Brian interrupted
“No I’m not,” Duff looked away from Brian.
“Yes you are,” Brian persisted, “I can smell the fucking smoke. Don’t lie to me. Do you have any idea of the damage you’re doing to yourself?”
“Who are you? My father?” Duff scorned.
“Well your skin is starting to peel in places,” Brian pointed out.
“It’s called sun burn,” Duff answered quickly.
“In the beginning of February? Brian raised an eyebrow.
“It’s my body, therefore my business,” Duff answered stubbornly, he stumbled and put his hand against a wall to steady himself.
“Your pancreas could explode,” Brian said in a strained voice.
“Yup, ‘cause that can happen,” Duff laughed.
“It can happen,” Brian said through gritted teeth, “It’s called acute pancreatitis. It can kill you,” Brian sighed and ran his hand through his hair, “Look, I don’t mean to nag, but I worry about you,”
“Chill dude, you don’t need to worry, I’m just having fun,” Duff said dismissively.
“Yes, ok. Let’s look back a little at your “fun” shall we?” Brian asked sarcastically.
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Duff made to go down the stairs, but Brian grabbed his wrist, feeling more like Duff’s father than his secret lover.
“Yes you do,” he said firmly, “Two months ago, you were having fun vomiting into a toilet at Roger Taylor’s Christmas party. A few weeks ago, you were having fun passed out in your driveway,” Duff pulled his wrist away and ran down the stairs. Brian went down after him continuing to talk.
“I mean, when I think about it, you’re always either stoned, drunk or both. It’s such a waste. Two years ago, I lost my best friend. I don’t want to go through that again with you. You remind me of him when you’re sober. You’re sweet, caring, funny…”
“Stop comparing me to Freddie fucking Mercury!” Duff interrupted opening the front door, “I’m not Freddie and I never will be, so get over it,” he slurred opening the door of his rented car.
“Don’t get into that car,” Brian warned, “You’re too drunk to drive,”
Duff stuck his middle finger up at Brian and hopped into the car. After a few attempts, he managed to get the key into the ignition. He was trembling with fury. Who the hell did Brian think he was telling him how to live his life? Duff decided to ask him. He rolled down the window.
“Who the hell do you think you are anyway, trying to tell me how to run my life?” he slurred.
“I’m trying to help you,” Brian shouted, “If you don’t sort your life out, you’ll die,”
Duff rolled up the window and started to reverse the car out, but, being drunk, he reversed into the wall.
“Shit,” he rested his head on the wheel. Brian tapped on the window. Duff unlocked the door silently and slid into the passenger seat.
For a while they said nothing. Duff glanced at Brian to make sure he wasn’t looking and took out a bottle of vodka. He took a gulp and put the bottle down to find Brian glaring at him.
“What? You’re driving, not me,”
“Yes, because you’re drunk,” Brian said, “Put it away,”
To Brian’s surprise, Duff obeyed, and put the bottle away. Duff turned back to Brian.
“Look, why don’t you stay the night? You can get a lift back in the morning?” he suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Brian shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Why not?” Duff demanded, “Because I’m not perfect like Freddie?”
“At least Freddie didn’t drink himself into oblivion!” Brian snapped, “You have a problem and you’re too fucked up to realise it,”
“The only person here that has a problem here is you,” Duff shouted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brian asked.
“You’re so uptight about everything,” Duff answered, “You just can’t seem to mind your own business. I can’t even have a drink when I’m around you because you’ll start a fight about it. Dude, it’s not normal,”
“What’s not normal,” Brian retorted, “Is your drinking habits. You’re constantly drunk and you pass out all the time,”
Brian took his eyes off Duff and looked in the rear view mirror. He saw the flashing light of a police car and pulled over.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he rolled down the window.
“You were driving at seventy miles an hour,” the police officer said, “This is a sixty zone. Have you been drinking?”
“No officer,” Brian answered. Duff shook his head.
“I’m going to have to ask you to step outside and take a breath test,” The police officer opened the door and Brian stepped out. He handed Brian the breathalyser and Brian blew into it.
“Nope, you’re not drunk,” the police officer said, “But I’m going to have to give you a ticket,” he wrote the ticket and Brian got back into the car, his face burning with humiliation. Brian sat gripping the wheel and staring straight ahead. He didn’t drive away, even after the police car left. Finally he got out of the car and walked over to Duff’s door. He opened it and grabbed the vodka bottle out of Duff’s bag and threw it across the road where it smashed on the footpath. He slammed the door. He opened it again and slammed it. He continued slamming the door over and over again. Duff flinched away.
“Stop it! Dude stop. Chill man, you’re scaring me,” He cried.
“Good!” Brian shouted, “Maybe you need to be scared. Because you’re certainly scaring me,” Brian slammed the door one last time and got back in the car.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Brian said as he started the engine. Duff nodded silently. They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they parked the car outside the hotel Brian and Duff got out. Brian handed the keys to Duff. They didn’t notice Slash standing in a corner smoking
“I’ll leave the car here. I’ll make my own way home,” Brian said
“Ok,” Duff said quietly.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Brian said, avoiding Duff’s eyes, “Not while you’re like this. I think we should break up,”
“But we can make this work,” Duff protested.
“We can’t,” Brian insisted, “Not unless you clean yourself up,”
“I will,” Duff promised desperately.
“Good,” Brian said, “Phone me when you do. Until then, please don’t try to contact me,” he started to walk away, but turned back and took a parcel out of his pocket, “Happy birthday,” he said handing it to Duff. Duff waited until he’d left to open it. It was a pocket watch, with ‘Duff’ engraved on the back. Duff sighed and walked into the hotel. Slash, who had witnessed the whole thing, followed Duff inside.
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We Will Rock This Sweet Child