MARIGOLD // Dave Grohl

XI: Nightmare Fuel

May 28, 1994

Tacoma, WA

Sarah didn't know what possessed her to finally call Paul up after weeks and weeks of avoiding the man. Maybe it was because she could see past the wrongdoings of Invictus and their affiliation with Hole. Or maybe she was making a sad attempt to separate the person from the act. Or maybe she was hesitant to admit that something good was happening to her, that something being Dave Grohl, and it scared the shit out of her. Yeah, that last one sounds about right.

She was wholeheartedly surprised when Paul picked up, his voice resonating through the earpiece. "Hello?"

"Paul?" Sarah asked for confirmation, her eyes lighting up.

"Yeah, who's this?" he responded, and she almost hung up. Maybe he moved on. Maybe this was a huge mistake.

"Sarah," she breathed, unsure of how the next seconds were going to go. Perhaps he'd hang up, or yell, or be passive aggressive. Instead, she was met with three words: "About damn time."

"Wait, really?" Sarah gaped, caught off guard by Paul's incredibly welcoming response to her call. "Yeah, I wasn't about to lose faith in you. You're too good to forget."

She raised an eyebrow. "Was that an innuendo?"

"No, I actually mean it, Sarah. I care about you," Paul replied, causing Sarah to turn as red as her shirt. "And I know you're going through a lot and have been for the past few months. And I'm sorry if I was too much for you." There was a slight pause before Paul added in, "You are too good to forget, though."

"I knew it!" Sarah yelled into the phone mid-laugh. This man was incredibly cocky. And sweet, and understanding, and funny, and...

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"So about why I stopped talking to--" Sarah began, and Paul interrupted her. "Yeah, tell me about that, please. Enlighten me."

"Courtney Love."

"A fucking nightmare," Paul responded, "And?"

Wait, what?

"Yeah, the only reason why I have to put up with that psycho is because we share the same studio and because our lead singer is one of Courtney's drug dealers." So Sarah had actually said wait what out loud. Oops.

"Oh, shit," were the only words that could come out of Sarah's mouth. So Paul was virtually innocent in all of this. Not an enemy, not a villain. And he essentially compared Courtney Love to nightmare fuel.

"Mm. So I can't really escape her unless I quit the band, and I'm sorry but Invictus is just about to tour and I'm not going to--"

"No, I'm not asking you to do anything," Sarah cut Paul off, reassuring him. "I'm really glad you clarified the circumstances."

"Why?"

"Well, I don't know, Courtney Love doesn't exactly hold a special place in my heart."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Paul admitted.

"And because I really like you and I'm afraid I messed this all up." The words poured out of Sarah's mouth like verbal vomit, and she immediately began debating which way she wanted to knock herself out; knock her head against the wall x many times, make her bed and let go of the sheets when they're really tight, go get her blood drawn for absolutely no reason besides the fact that her own blood made her pass out...

"No way," Paul told her, making everything ten times more confusing.

"No way what?"

"You could never mess anything up, Sarah," Paul said, causing Sarah's heart to skip one or two beats, "Not in a million years."

"Prove it," she replied.

The call went dead.

***

About half an hour later, there was a knock at Sarah's door, scaring the ever living shit out of her. It was 1:30 in the morning, and the knocking was loud.

Sarah opened the door to see Paul standing there, his forehead slightly sweaty, as if he had jogged up the stairs to Sarah's apartment, his light blue tee shirt contrasting with his tanned complexion.

Before Sarah could get a single word in, Paul was lunging at her, their lips connecting faster than you could say "Dave Grohl." Paul's hands crawled into Sarah's hair, immediately tugging, causing Sarah to let out a mix between a strangled gasp and moan as Paul slammed the door behind him, walking Sarah backwards through her apartment.

He backed Sarah against the kitchen counter, his fingertips grazing Sarah's hips, pushing the fabric of her shirt up just enough that just a sliver of skin could be seen. Sarah's hands connected behind Paul's neck, her palms gaining the sensation of Paul's miraculous jawline, a slight stubble present across his face.

Paul smiled into the kiss, reaching down in order to pick Sarah up and place her on the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs. Paul removed his shirt, then helped Sarah out of hers before they locked lips once again.

Sarah believed that if Paul kept kissing her as he was, her face might cease to exist by the end of the night.

"Hey Sarah," Paul muttered, and Sarah pulled away to respond, her breathing heavy.

"Yeah?"

"You're too good to forget."

A/N yeah I know this chapter is so fucking short but this is a plot filler okay? Okay. Maybe 'okay' will be our 'always.' I'll show myself out.