OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

fifty-one.

WHEN REAGAN AWOKE the next morning lying in Dave's bed, the realization that her life had officially and drastically altered its course shook her to her core. It was not necessarily odd to find herself tucked between Dave's sheets, laying beside him as a new day was rung in, but it certainly felt eye-opening in a very enlightening way.

The first task she assigned herself upon rolling out of bed was to make amends to start anew. In order to do that, she called the Wilson's phone number and officially quit. It was Tommy who answered the phone, his voice laced with concern of why Reagan had not shown up for her shift that morning. He'd been startled once she told him the news that she had made a split-second decision to move to Seattle, but after she'd mentioned that she was living with Dave, Tommy had gone quiet and ceased asking for information.

In the end, Reagan saw his reaction as a perfect justification as to why she had not disclosed her pregnancy.

Dave woke up shortly after Reagan did though he had left a pocket of time for her to be alone, time which she spent cooking a breakfast of toast and eggs. He was pleased when he wandered into his tiny kitchen, met with the smell of Reagan's morning cuisine.

"That looks good," he commented, yawning widely and stretching his arms. He was only clothed from the waist down in a pair of boxer shorts.

"Thanks. My secret recipe is putting cheese in the eggs. Robbie used to love when I'd cook him this." Reagan snapped her mouth shut as soon as she said Robbie's name, knowing it would only hurt her to dwell on the memories she'd spent with her little brother. Dave caught her tense response and rubbed her back lovingly, joining her by the stove.

"Want to go into the city today?" he asked, changing the subject. "We could maybe do what we talked about last night. You know . . . the marriage license thing."

Reagan felt her stomach lurch at the word "marriage." As much as she was excited at the prospect of marrying Dave, it still felt strange to imagine them both in such a context. Marriage seemed to be exclusive to only those couples who had their shit together — Reagan wasn't sure that she and Dave fell into that category. But she loved him wholeheartedly, which was the only thing that mattered.

"Sure," she agreed. On second thought, she remembered her urgent need to find Dave a wedding ring. At some point, she was going to have to enlist Kate to help her discreetly get the deed done.

Dave smiled contentedly and filled a plate with eggs, piling them high before reaching for a piece of toast. Reagan nudged a bottle of ketchup his way, but he nudged it right back in her direction.

"What's that for?" he probed, nodding at the ketchup. Reagan blinked innocently.

"For my eggs?" It came out as a question.

"You put ketchup on your eggs?" Dave wrinkled back his nose with disgust. Reagan swatted at him with her hand.

"Don't judge me. Eggs on ketchup is my personal delicacy," she objected hotly. To prove her point, she slathered her helping of eggs in the bright red condiment.

"It's amazing how I learn something new about you almost every day," Dave laughed.

They ate breakfast together in front of the television, flipping through the stations casually and bouncing back and forth between different shows. After their plates were cleaned and set aside, Dave picked up his acoustic and began to play. Reagan watched him from the opposite end of the couch, smiling softly to herself as he became absorbed in the music spilling forth from his fingertips. Before she even knew it, forty-five minutes had passed of them sitting quietly with only the sound of the acoustic filling the living room.