OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

fifty-five.

        REAGAN AND DAVE stumbled into their apartment, giggling and tripping over their feet as Dave managed to scrape the key within the door's lock. Or rather, it was Dave who did most of the stumbling and giggling, laughing loudly at everything Reagan said while doing his utmost best to pretend that he was sober when he was in fact properly drunk.

"This isn't going to work," Reagan laughed, referencing the sly way that he roped both arms around her waist, burying his face into her neck as pulled her inside the familiar warmth of their shared home. Being tangled together wasn't exactly helping them make their way into the apartment.

"I'm not letting go," he replied determinedly, kicking the door shut with the heel of his torn Vans sneaker.

She was inclined to believe that he meant what he said, mostly because he hadn't hesitated to keep his hands off of her for those past twelve or so hours. After they'd left the courthouse with Kurt and Kate in tow, they'd gone straight to see Krist and Shelli to deliver the good news — they were officially married. Officially declared as Mr. and Mrs. David Grohl.

In the absence of an actual wedding reception, Reagan should have already known that Krist and Shelli would have taken the matter into their very capable hands. The rest of the day had transitioned seamlessly into a party, one suitable enough to make up for the fact that Dave and Reagan had no hordes of wedding guests to shower them in celebration.

It was a bit remorseful, at least for Reagan since she could not drink alcohol with the rest of her friends, but still touching in its own unique way. She had not been able to fight the wide smile off of her face as she had stood in Krist and Shelli's apartment, toasting juice in her plastic cup while everyone else raised their cheap champagne high in the air and congratulated her and Dave. She felt warm inside even without sipping on alcohol. Watching the people she loved exude happiness over her own triumph in claiming Dave as her own was an irreplaceable feeling.

It had been fun to listen as everyone discussed her and Dave's future while recalling their short but sweet history together, but watching the whole thing felt akin to previewing a film. She was an audience member, keen to enjoy the spectacle in front of her. In a way, Reagan did wish that the day had been filmed. She never wanted to forget it, not a single minute detail. She had especially loved when everyone had mulled over what she and Dave's "firsts" would be as a married couple. Nobody had won in the category of guessing when they'd have their first baby. She and Dave already gotten a head start on that.

At the bequest of Krist, who never missed an opportunity to get sloshed, they all had traveled back to Seattle and wandered into the select sliver of town that was packed with bars and music. Despite Nirvana having just released their sophomore album only a day prior, no one seemed to notice the bandmates drinking heavily alongside Shelli, Kate and Reagan. They still blended easily with the crowd; just another rambunctious group of youths scouring the nightlife. It was easy. Simple. They were all indulging in on their own private secrets, their own hidden joys. An album, a marriage, an upcoming tour . . . a baby.

They all had so much to celebrate on what had been an ordinary day for everyone else surrounding them that night.

Eventually, as they'd lingered from bar to bar, Reagan had found the nearest phone booth and contacted Chris, making sure to wrangle her in on the fun. Chris did after all deserve to know that her closest friend in the world had gotten married that day. Predictably, she had shouted in Reagan's ear with surprise, but jovially assured her that she would be in Seattle to join them within the hour.

Sure enough, Chris had arrived in her usual cheerful manner, grinning with delight as she enveloped Reagan in a hug.

"You're married," she cried in disbelief, squeezing Reagan tight around the shoulders.