OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

eighty-five.

JUNE 9th, 1993, SEATTLE, WA

     "WHERE THE HELL are you going?" Dave growled. He jumped up from his perch on the edge of the bed and snatched Reagan around the waist, dragging her back into him. She fixed one hand on his shoulder and pushed against his stronghold.

"I've got to run errands," she said.

"Bullshit. It's your birthday. You don't have to do anything except be with me."

"It's important."

She wiggled a little more in his grasp, though Dave didn't loosen his arms. He only squeezed tighter, using one hand to snap at the buttons on her blazer. A flash of her lacy bra became exposed and he kissed her bare chest, lightly gliding his tongue across her skin. Reagan jumped.

"Dave," she hissed. "Sarah's still here with Gracie!"

"So shut the door."

"It's five o'clock!"

Reagan unroped his arms from her waist and skittered backwards, adjusting her skirt. It was already thigh-baring enough as it was. She didn't need Dave yanking it up anymore.

"You're right, it is five. I was going to take you to dinner tonight. That's why Sarah is still here," Dave said, clearly exasperated.

"We can still do dinner," Reagan insisted. "Just let me run out real quick and I'll be back."

She bent down to scoop her bag up from the floor, but Dave pursed his lips at her with a questioning look.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Reagan froze, her torso still leaning forward and wisps of hair falling into in her face.

"What?" she replied stupidly.

"Where do you have to go that's so important? You haven't even put your keys down since you walked through the door."

She looked down into her hand, where sure enough, her car keys were still gripped against her palm. The divots of the keys had left fleshy indentions in her skin.

"We need milk," she lied. It was such a ridiculous bluff that she didn't even have to hold her breath, hoping Dave would go with it.

"We have milk. I was just looking in the fridge."

"Well, we need more milk. You can never have enough milk. Especially with a baby."

Dave stood up from the bed and folded his arms. Telling by the way he was looking at her, Reagan sensed that he already knew what was going on, or had at least the slightest idea of where she was headed. She winced with guilt.

"Can you tell me where you're really going?" he asked expectantly.

"Dave," she sighed. This was the conversation that she'd been hoping to avoid when she'd made her mind up about her plans earlier. But with Dave being Dave, he'd gotten to the bottom of her deceit quickly. The longer time that they spent together, the more adept he became at chipping away the variety of masks that she put on.

"Just say it," he commanded. "Tell me."

Ashamedly, Reagan glanced down at the floor and into the matte black leather of her heels. He didn't need to ask so persistently. He must have already known. She'd mentioned it offhandedly the other day, thinking it wouldn't stick to his brain, but it obviously had.

When she didn't answer, Dave finally provided a response for her.

"You're going to see Kurt," he said frankly.