OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

sixteen.

       IN AN UNCHARACTERISTIC move on Reagan's behalf, she did not leave the apartment after she and Dave were finished having sex. As soon as Dave had tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they laid back against the pillows, she'd obliged with a content sigh.

Reagan decided that there were plenty of reasons as to why she had not run off. Firstly, she was tired and didn't want to drive. Dave had exhausted her in ways that he surely couldn't have while in a broom closet. And second, she strangely felt no urge to leave. More than anything, she felt safe in Dave's bed, at least safer than she did anywhere else, including her own home. And that was really saying something.

It was a disorienting thing to come to terms with, but she did anyway, ignoring any other reasoning that suggested she go.

Together she and Dave talked, recalling childhood memories and defining moments that they'd experienced in their teenage years. Dave made her laugh, which Reagan enjoyed. At some points, he left her with her shoulders shaking up and down, giggling madly at whatever clever remark he'd come up with. She made him laugh too, something she took great pride in.

He was in the middle of telling a story about a seventh-grade girlfriend when Reagan lifted her head from his shoulder, glancing towards the window. The sun had changed positions in the sky. She could tell even through the thick veil of clouds that were no doubt clustering against the light. Much time had passed since she'd first arrived at the Pear Street apartment.

She sat up, the sheets falling to her waist as she reached for her jeans. Dave swiftly stopped his story mid-sentence.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Reagan fixed her inside out denim pant legs, looking back at where Dave still sat relaxed amongst the pillows.

"I've got to go," she explained. She made her voice gentle, hoping she did not sound harsh. "I have work tomorrow."

"I don't want you to go," Dave exclaimed. He reached out and grabbed her arm, brushing his fingertips against her soft skin. She shivered in response.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome," Reagan said. "Kurt's probably dying for me to get out. I hope he didn't hear anything."

"Kurt doesn't care, Reagan," Dave insisted. He sat up with her, moving closer to where she was in his bed. "We're in my room."

Reagan sighed and lowered her jeans in her lap. She gave Dave a chiding look, the same look she might have given to any one of her younger siblings. He looked back at her worriedly.

"Please," Dave murmured. "Don't leave again."

Hearing Dave's plea did not invoke the reaction Reagan expected out of herself. She thought that hearing him beg for her to stay would have been concerning, but she felt sheer joy. Knowing he wanted her around was somewhat of a relief. Even though she'd roped him into sleeping with her, that was evidently not all he craved out of her presence.

"What about my job?" she reminded him.

"When do you work tomorrow?"

"Eight in the morning. And I obviously didn't bring my uniform."

"What's the uniform?"

"Uh, a vest with my name on it."

"Who really needs a vest with their name on it to work?"

Reagan couldn't help it. She smiled, ducking her head so as not to egg Dave on with her obvious delight. He caught her chin in his fingers and raised her face to his, kissing her lips quickly. She let him do it. It was too nice of a feeling to avoid.