OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

thirty-six.

MARCH, 1991, OLYMPIA, WA

         "OH MY GOD!" Reagan shouted happily as she pulled her front door open. Standing in front of her on the porch step was Dave, grinning impishly and wearing a denim jacket that had more holes in it than actual patches of denim. It was a sight that only naturally turned her into a giddy, overexcited little girl as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"You left Tacoma early!" Reagan recognized, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug. She realized that Dave's purchase of a beat-up car for himself only a few weeks prior had really paid off in the end.

"We got out of the studio faster than we expected," Dave explained, fixing his thumb and pointer finger beneath Reagan's chin to hold her face steady as he kissed her hello. "And then I remembered that you worked the morning shift today."

"Hence my awful outfit," Reagan said with a roll of her eyes, sending her gaze downcast towards her oil-stained jeans and Wilson's work vest. She'd ended up spattered with grease in the garage that day, courtesy of her own carelessness.

"I like it. It's sexy," Dave teased.

"Ugh, no it's not. You don't have to lie to me."

"You're right, I don't. Isn't the fact that that Tommy kid you work with wanting to fuck you good enough reason to believe you look great?"

"Shut up!" Reagan smacked Dave's chest defensively.

"Be honest. Does he still hit on you?" Dave asked. He was trying to seem blasé, but Reagan knew he was truly curious. She didn't think he was quite over not being able to confront Tommy himself.

"No. We're just friends, I can assure you."

"I doubt he thinks that, but I'll take your word for it. Hey, are you home alone?" Dave peered inside through the front door, swiveling his head left and right.

"I am. My dad was going to an interview the last time I checked, my mom's at work, and the kids are in school or day care," Reagan said. She took Dave's hand and led him inside, suddenly aware that they did indeed have the house to themselves.

"Interesting," Dave mused. He wrapped his arms around Reagan's midsection and pulled her to his chest. One of his familiar coy smiles was playing at his lips, a dead giveaway of what was on his mind. "You know, this wouldn't be the first time I've had sex in someone's childhood bedroom."

Reagan guffawed and pushed Dave several inches back. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not sure we have the right to defile the room considering that I live in it with Kate. And I'm not sure when my parents will be home."

"Isn't that part of the thrill of it?"

She swatted his arm in reprimand but he only snickered, always amused to ruffle her feathers, now so more than ever after they'd officially been dating for a few months. Reagan had learned that at twenty-two years old, Dave could be as boyish as he was at age twelve.

"I'm kidding," he pressed, wandering a few steps farther down the hall. "Is it alright that I'm here, though? When we're all alone?"

Reagan thoughtfully chewed the inside of her lip, pondering Dave's question. In honesty, she was unsure of the answer to it, simply because she had never once had a boy in her life to be with alone with in her house. She imagined that Kimberly would have detested the idea and probably forbidden it, but then again, she was twenty-one years old. She had rights too, even if she was under the roof of her parents.

"It doesn't matter," Reagan said. "You're just visiting. It's not like they're going to walk in on us fucking on the couch."

"As if that hasn't almost happened to us before," Dave said wryly.