OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

one-hundred-five.

SEPTEMBER 4th, 1997, NEW YORK CITY, NY

REAGAN WAS ANXIOUS, more anxious than she usually was when enduring a celebrity event. She'd grown used to them in consideration of Dave, having long ago accepted that they were woven into the narrative of his rockstar life, but still she was shaking ever so slightly.

Dave noticed as he came up behind her, hooking the last button to his shirt. His dressing room within Radio City Music Hall was spacious, comfortable, and he had it all to himself. There was even a full length mirror that Reagan had positioned herself in front of, fingering the dainty diamond necklace around her neck that Dave had gifted to her right after she'd landed at JFK.

Reagan's eyes flickered to the right, catching Dave's reflection beside her own. He looked handsome in his solid black outfit. Youthful, even, having shaved the remnants of his beard a few weeks back. The way he looked reminded Reagan of an earlier time, years prior, and it made her heartbeat throb faster.

Dave touched his hand to her bare arm, coasting it downwards until his fingertips drifted to her wrist. Goosebumps erupted across her skin.

"You okay?" he asked. He spoke to her softly, evoking something inside of Reagan that she'd badly needed after another bout of time without him. When he talked to her like that, in his gentle speaking voice that posed as such a contrast to the way he screeched on stage, it soothed her.

"Just thinking about Gracie," Reagan answered. It was partly true — she was thinking of their daughter, who was about to start kindergarten in a matter of days. She was back at home in L.A., watched over by Kate who'd pulled all the necessary strings to make it to California for babysitting duty. As Gracie grew older, it was harder for Reagan to be away from her. Gracie was more cognizant now. It was hard enough to see her melancholy with Dave gone and now having both parents away, even if for only two days, must have hurt ten times worse.

At least Dave would be present for her first day of school. That was Reagan's silver lining. It was only marred by the fact that he'd be leaving again afterwards, off to Las Vegas.

"She's okay," Dave assured Reagan softly. His hand grazed its way back up her arm to her shoulder. "We'll be with her again real soon."

"Thank god," Reagan mumbled. She immediately felt bad for her grudging response, but Dave laughed it off.

"I wouldn't miss her first day of kindergarten," he said.

But you missed her first day of preschool, Reagan thought. She almost visibly winced, hating that such biting words had even crossed her mind.

She worked up a genuine smile, looking into Dave's bright brown eyes. They smiled along with his mouth, shining with an obvious case of pre-show jitters that amounted to nothing more than raw excitement. His adrenaline was rippling beneath his calm facade as it usually did before he took the stage.

"I've got a very important question," he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her away from the mirror. She fully faced him and he stepped back, his gaze roving up and down.

"Can I ask mine first?" she said, fighting back a bigger smile.

"Oh?" Dave cocked an eyebrow. "You're beating me to the punch?"

"I am." Reagan closed the gap between them, pressing her chest to his and reaching both hands up until they disappeared into the shaggy mop of hair on his head.

"Please tell me you're growing this out again," she whispered, leaning in close to his ear as she knitted her fingers into his hair. Her hands shifted and she caressed down his neck and back, the tips of her fingernails following an intended path.