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The Curious Case of Sebastian Bach
Skid Row slash fic by Mrs_Dark_Knight8


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor do I own my soul. This is a work of fiction, I doubt any of this ever happened in real life (one can hope though) Enjoy :)

Notes: ??? I was watching old interviews and I just thought... everyone likes Baz... What if?
Rachel squinted at the blurry image of Sebastian Bach floating in the crowd of groupies and someone who looked like Ace Frehley—oh wait, it was. The brunet squeezed his eyes shut, somewhere between slightly tipsy and properly smashed. He was probably closer to ‘properly smashed’ if they way the room spun wildly when he tried to stand was anything to go by.

Sebastian gestured wildly, saying something that had everyone around him laughing like hell—of course they were, because everyone liked him (for some reason Rachel couldn’t understand—or maybe he could, but fuck if he was ever gonna admit it).

“Hey man, you okay?” Baz asked, and just when the fuck did he get over here.

The bassist pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the hand Baz offered to steady him. “Of course I’m ok. Are you?” He was trying to be mean, but instead he found himself inquiring about Mr. Sunshine’s well being.

“Yeah, sure, man.” Baz grinned, running a stupid hand through his stupid girly hair—holy shit, Rachel was drunker than he thought. “Where’s Scotti?”

“I’m not Scotti’s mother, Sebastian.” He snapped, before cringing inwardly. Shit, he was horrible at comebacks while drunk. Fuck, he should sit down, rooms weren’t supposed to spin like that.

Sebastian’s laughter seemed to echo that sentiment, “Whatever, I’ll go find him, and then I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

That sounded pretty good. Or you could just take me— “Whatever.” He said, a bit too loudly, no way he’s allowing his mind to finish that thought. The blond just stared at him, smiling a little before walking off without another word. And no, he was not staring at Seb’s ass while he walked—it was a nice ass though, and his legs weren’t that bad either.

Baz was bending over Scotti who was sprawled across some redhead’s lap and that blessed Rachel with even a better view of his ass under those leather pants.

Fuck.

“Nice kid, huh?”

The brunet blinked rapidly, when the fuck did someone approach him? Ace jerked his chin towards Sebastian, smiling fondly.

“What?” He really hoped he hadn’t been caught
staring like an idiot.

“He’s a good kid.” Ace slurred, looking a bit proud—and what? No way in hell they were talking about the same person here.

“Like fuck he is.” Rachel snapped, scowling when the guitarist just patted his head, still grinning like a loon. “He isn’t.” He insisted, because Baz wasn’t nice, or polite—and he had no idea why the rest of the world thought so. Baz was a total asshole, when he wasn’t poking or prodding Rachel, he was stealing his food, his clothes, his weed—the fucker dumped flour all over him once. For no reason.

So, no, ‘nice’ was not a word he’d use in the same sentence as ‘Sebastian’.

Except in a few cases, like:
• Sebastian has a nice ass.
• Sebastian smells nice when he bothers to shower.
• Sebastian has a nice pair of legs.
• Sebastian would be a nice lay—no.

He was ‘hot’ maybe, but definitely not the good, polite Canadian citizen everyone thought he was (they couldn’t be more wrong).

“Hey, Bolan.” Speak of the devil, Rach narrowed his eyes and scowled, but the blond ignored his hostility completely. “Come on, Tommy’s giving us a ride.” Sebastian proceeded to be a perfect gentleman, helping the brunet to his feet gently, more or less carrying him towards the exit because he was tall and freakishly strong.

“Are we leaving Rob?” He slurred once they had finally managed to pile into Tommy’s car… Come to think of it, he’d seen Tom do at least five lines of coke earlier—he’d better not be the one driving them.

Scotti was shouting a loud and completely off-key rendition of “Shout at the Devil” that made Rachel’s head pound, probably in an attempt to express his thanks for the free ride. Dave was trying to shove what appeared to be a crumpled paper bag down Scotti’s throat to shut him up (thank fuck) and Dave was out cold in Seb’s lap.

He didn’t examine that little flare of jealousy he felt too closely.

“Rob wanted to stay a while longer, something about finishing a keg with Vince.”

“Oh.” The car pulled away from the curb and Rachel’s head lolled, everything was still fuzzy around the edges and moving too fast—passing out seemed like a very good idea at the moment.

“—ok?” Sebastian’s face swam into focus, blonde hair messy and a bit greasy but still falling perfectly over his shoulders. Well not really
“into focus”, since he was seeing three Sebastians—as if one wasn’t enough. Rachel felt the strongest urge to attack him... as soon as he found out with one was real.

“What?”

“I said, are you ok?”

“Why do you care?” He grumbled, trying to untangle strands of his hair from his nose chain—maybe he should cut it. But that’d be just plain disrespectful to the rock and roll Gods.

“I don’t. I’m just letting you know I’m not dragging your sorry ass upstairs.” The blond whispered, just loud enough for Rachel to hear. “I’ll dump your body on the sidewalk.” See? Asshole. Not polite at all.

“You’re an asshole, ya know?” He slurred, eyelids drooping.

“Only to you.”

He was out cold before he could consider about what that meant.
----------

Rachel woke the next evening (because mornings weren’t a thing, and he was not waking up before 12 unless they had work to do) on the couch wearing only his Batman boxers. He staggered around for a while longer, looking in every possible place they could be hiding. Shit, he didn’t even remember taking anything off last night much less stashing them somewhere—

Sebastian.

The brunet did the logical, mature thing. He stomped across the hall and barged into Baz’s room, ready to give him the chewing out of his lifetime. “Where the fuck are my clothes!”

His method would have worked if Baz wasn’t entertaining everyone and God in his room.

Scotti, Rob, Dave and—was that fucking Tommy Lee? — were huddled around the television set, engrossed in some new video game (how he had missed the unmistakable sound of huge man-children brawling over a game was mind-blowing).

“Holy fuck.” Scotti squeaked before the whole room burst into laughter. It was too late to make a dignified exit, so he stood there, glaring at them as best as he could, trying to will down the flush rising on his cheeks.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Had no idea you were such a big Batman fan, Rach.” Tommy teased, swiping at the corners of his eyes. “Actually, this wasn’t how I wanted to find out.”

“You!” He rounded on Baz who was attempting to look innocent. “You hid my shit.”

“Sorry, Rach.” He shrugged, smiling a little, “I put your clothes right next to you.” That was a fresh, steaming pile of bullshit if Rachel had ever seen one.

“Why did you take them off in the first place?” He whined, crossing his arms over his chest. Just why the fuck was Baz staring at him like that.

“I was just trying to help.” Bullshit. “You hate sleeping in your clothes.” Sebastian widened his eyes, looking for all the world like an innocent man who had Rach’s best interest at heart.

“Give him a break, he was just being nice.” Dave said mildly, turning towards his game and dismissing the bassist.

“Yeah!” The others chorused, patting the blond’s back and smiling.

Rach took one look in Sebastian’s eyes and knew differently. “He isn’t nice!”

“Are we talking about the same kid?” Dave asked,

“Come on man, chill out.”

“Look at all that shit he pulls with Bon Jovi.”

“Hey,” Scotti jabbed his controller in Rach’s direction. “That’s just tradition.”

The bassist realized he wouldn’t be winning any arguments with this bunch. Rolling his eye he headed for the closet—if that was how he wanted to play, fine. He wriggled into one of the blond’s tees, settling for one of his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The extra fabric puddle around his ankles and he had to make a conscious effort not to trip while he walked. “Fine, I’ll just borrow your shit.”

Tommy made an amused sound, “You didn’t tell me you were this close. When’s the wedding?”

“Fuck you, donkey dick.” That had the completely opposite effect, because Tommy looked so smug Rach wanted to punch his face in. He settled on the floor next to Baz who seemed content watching these idiots try to kill each other virtually.

“Your clothes were in the bathroom.” He said, eyes still glued to the screen.

“You fucker—” He hissed, because he knew it! Rachel glanced around wildly, but no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention.
Why did the devil only show his true self when no one else was watching.

“Good thing I hid them,” Baz continued, grinning at him. “You look good wearing my shit—small—but good.”

For once in his life he was speechless, gaping over at the blond in silence.

Baz just winked before looking away, carrying on like nothing happened.

Fuck it, he was making it his god-given duty to prove that Baz was the devil himself and not the pure boy-scout everyone else seemed to think he was. And maybe during the process of proving that Baz was a horrible person his stupid—whatever it was—would go away.



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Recommend story
Comment by Espea - 05/05/17 - 07:39PM
Again? No but seriously, I think you've got plenty of people hooked on the setup, and now you're killing us while waiting for the payoff. xD
Comment by Oppie Mocha - 04/20/17 - 10:57PM
Oh my gosh a Skid Row fic! I love this
Comment by therealgloria - 04/20/17 - 10:53PM
Super nice to read something about these boys. I like it! Will be looking for the next chapter, thank you.
Comment by Riguel*2000 - 04/20/17 - 06:02PM
Am very excited to read a Skid Row fic. I can't understand how com there anren't many more; Baz is just totatlly fic first class material. Will be waiting for the next chapter and see how and what Rachel is doing further...


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