OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

sixty-three.

A/N: long chapter warning ahead, i am so sorry

JANUARY 9th, 1992, SEATTLE, WA

AS REAGAN SAT at work behind her secretary's desk, she couldn't help but to fidget, absentmindedly tucking her fist beneath her chin and letting out long, winded sighs as she stared through the tall glass windows in front of her. It was the same repetitive thing she had done at Wilson's, except DGC's small imprint building in Seattle provided for a much nicer view. The misty city backdrop was nice for her to examine as she allowed her mind to wander.

Reagan loved her job, that much was true. She considered herself forever indebted to Dave for having landed the position for her. Yet within the last several days, she had been wishing to be anywhere but behind that familiar secretary's desk, answering phone calls and chatting with the occasional scrambled band manager who strode through the DGC's doors.

Although they had spent a wonderful Christmas together, Dave and Reagan had been separated upon ringing in the new year. While Nirvana had spent the evening putting on a celebratory show in San Francisco at the Cow Palace, Reagan had shipped herself back off to Seattle in solitude. In return for having not worked for weeks, she had offered herself up for a rare New Years Day spent at the office. The only people at DGC that day had been Reagan and a few big wigs from Geffen, managing files and ensuring various clients got from point A to point B that day. Of course, she had passed the time thinking about Dave.

Nirvana had been rewarded for their hard work post-New Years with a few spare days off in Seattle, but even then Reagan had not spent much time at Dave's side. She'd been picking up her slack at work, clocking in by nine a.m. and walking through their apartment's front door at six later in the night. She had sensed Dave's disappointment over her absence, no matter how hard he aptly tried to hide it. He had promised her that he was occupying himself by hanging out with Kurt.

Reagan had in fact known that he was lying. Kurt had towed Courtney back to the west coast during their break, and from what Reagan had gathered, they pair had spent every waking moment together since Nirvana's return. Dave would have certainly had no place as a third wheel.

"We can hang out with them," Reagan had suggested one night as she'd shrugged out of an oversized jacket, having just gotten home from work. "I'd still like to meet Courtney."

"Er," Dave had mumbled, noticeably trying to hide the awkward expression that twisted upon his face. "Let's hold off on that, okay?"

"Why?" Reagan retorted, confused. "I thought you told me Kurt wanted us to meet."

"I know he did," Dave said lightly. "Now just isn't a good time, that's all. You should probably mentally prepare yourself before meeting Courtney, anyways. She's a handful."

Dave had tried to be sincere, but Reagan had known he was hiding something in the way that he'd stared, puppy dog-like, into her eyes, as if to plead that she drop the subject. She'd nauseously debated over whether or not Dave was keeping her from Kurt in order to disguise his drug use — if such a thing were truly taking place. She'd halted that awful speculation in her head before even completing it. The thought of Kurt, sallow-skinned and needle sick, had made her physically ill.

While Reagan sat in her sturdy office chair contemplating this, she imagined Dave in New York City, where Nirvana was presently preparing to perform on Saturday Night Live. She was thrilled by their accomplishment and had promised Dave that she would watch the broadcast, though he'd whimpered in return that he'd rather her be there with him instead. It was not as if she could blame him for this longing; Kurt's family was making the trip to New York for the show and even Ginny had assured Dave that she would be there. Reagan was going to be the odd man out, absent as everyone else rallied around her husband on such a big day.