KATE WAS EITHER a gifted telepathist or just a spectacular sister, Reagan decided. As she, Kate and Dave had all returned to their hotel room that night with Gracie being interchangeably held between them, Kate offered to keep Gracie for the night in her room.

"It's no problem," she'd said happily. "We can set that little pop-up crib Mom and Dad got you by the bed and she can stay with me. Do you have some of her things already packed? Diapers and stuff? Ooh, and what about that butt cream, she's so prone to rashes!"

At this comment, Reagan had closed her eyes in order to stay calm. She wasn't sure what was worse — Kate obviously knowing that she and Dave were in desperate need of alone time to engage in certain activities, or the fact that her sister had just used the phrase 'butt cream' in such a casual manner.

Her new life could not get anymore weirder. At least not when things like that were being said, as if they were a totally normal thing in her life, as if Reagan still wasn't just a twenty-three year old woman with plenty of growing up left to do. Nowadays she had to worry about issues like Gracie's diaper rash, rather than what band she was going to see next in another tightly-packed Olympia club.

"Yes," she'd said tersely. "I have some set aside."

Once Gracie was safely set up in Kate's room and Reagan had torn herself away from her baby after much fretting, she returned to her own room with Dave. When they walked in side-by-side, she couldn't help but to sigh.

"What is it?" Dave said, looking back at her as he crossed the threshold into the room readily.

"Nothing. I just feel like a thirty year old, that's all."

"A thirty year old? Why?"

She gestured around the room. A slew of Gracie's toys were lying scattered about, as well as a few spare baby-things that hadn't been transferred over to Kate for the night.

"We're living in an infant wonderland," Reagan said.

"So?" Dave shrugged. He kicked a shaker rattle out of the way with the toe of his sneaker. "That's all part of having a baby."

"Yeah, along with the part of needing a sitter if we want to have any alone time."

"I thought you liked being a mom."

She didn't like the way he said it. There was a note of worry in the question, a flicker of doubt. As if it were possible that she would ever actually dislike the existence of her own daughter.

"I do," Reagan said, sighing softly as she sat down on the edge of their king-sized bed. "It's just a little crazy at times. Like Twilight Zone-type crazy. I'm not that much older than Kate and look at the differences between us. I'm a mother and she's in school, going to parties and trying to become a lawyer."

Dave knitted his eyebrows together. "So . . . are you trying to say that you wish you hadn't missed out on keg parties and law school?"

Reagan shuddered in spite of herself. "God, no. I never wanted any of that. All I'm saying is that I feel like an imposter sometimes. Like a kid trying to play the role of a parent."

"You're a great mom, Reagan." Dave sat down next to her and folded her hand into his. His touch was warm and comforting, giving her all the necessary reassurance that he was right. It was annoying, the way he tended to be right about a lot of things. It was still hard to grasp the truth of it all, though.

"I've had six months to adjust and I still can't believe it sometimes. I look around and see diapers and bottles and my boobs were leaking milk every day. I go to work and when I'm there, all I think about is Gracie. But then when I'm home, I think about how young we are. How different everyone's lives are around us."

Dave's eyes abruptly rounded with pain. "Do you regret it? Having her?"

"No, never!" Reagan exclaimed. She could feel a consecutive pang in her heart. Regretting Gracie would have felt like regretting the greatest joy that she'd ever known — stupid and absurd. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like that."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just being insecure."

"I think you're right," Dave said. He planted a kiss on her bare shoulder. "You're doubting that this was supposed to happen. It was meant to happen this way."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I'm feeling weird because everyone is at some type of an after party right now and we're here, being parents."

"Kurt and Courtney aren't at any after party," Dave asserted. "And Gracie's not here right now. It's you and me. Did you want to go to a party?"

"No," Reagan sighed, the word blending into another sigh. "I don't know why I even said that. I'd rather be here with you right now. Gracie or no Gracie, I'd still want to be here."

"I'm happy with the way things turned out," Dave said gently. "Being a dad and having you here with me is the easiest thing I've ever done. No question."

"I always knew that you'd make a good dad."

"I thought so. That's why you were so eager to make a baby with me, huh?"

Reagan giggled and dug her shoulder against his. "I can't say that I was. I thought that the mental breakdown I had when I found out was pregnant made that obvious."

"But you're happy, right? You're happy with me? And Gracie?"

"Very happy."

She kissed him softly on the mouth, twirling her pointer finger into a thread of his hair. Against his lips, she whispered out an apology that felt all too necessary.

"I'm sorry for saying that stuff," she said. "It came out totally wrong. I don't regret any of this. Not even for a second."

"Don't say sorry. I get where you're coming from. Nothing about your life is normal right now."

"And your life? It's normal?"

He let out a short, staccato laugh. "No. Definitely not normal."

"You know, sometimes I wish your mom was here."

Dave smiled. "She has that effect on people."

Reagan leaned her head onto his shoulder and rubbed the pad of her thumb over his. Having Ginny closer to home would have been nice. Dave's mother had an inconceivable calming effect on her, like an anti-anxiety pill bottled into the body of a walking, living person. When Reagan was around Ginny, she never doubted herself. Ginny had that special way of making her feel like the smartest, most well-rounded human being that had ever lived. She made Reagan feel as if she could do no wrong in the face of change and uncertainties.

"So," Dave began casually. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Of course I did," Reagan said. "It was definitely . . . memorable."

"Yeah? Which part?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the part where you guys almost got blacklisted by MTV? Or maybe when you taunted Axl Rose and had me thinking that you were going to get beat up for it?"

"I wasn't the one who almost got beat up," Dave grinned, correcting her with a sort of eagerness that made it plainly clear how much he'd enjoyed himself. "That was Kurt and Krist. I would have hated to see anybody get hurt or anything like that, but McKagan has got nothing on Krist's height. That would have been an interesting fight. Like a praying mantis going up against a wet paper bag."

"Somebody did get hurt," Reagan reminded him. "Krist almost killed himself with his bass."

"Okay, yes, true, but he got to hang out with Brian fucking May after the fact. I think he's going to live."

"I always knew you guys were crazy, but tonight proved it," Reagan said with a roll of her eyes. "I was on the verge of a heart attack from the time that the lights went down."

"Aw, baby, were you worried about me?" Dave cooed mockingly, yanking her closer.

"Yes," Reagan snipped. "I saw it all panning out in my head. You were going to get your ass kicked by Axl Rose, and then I was going to have to pass off Gracie to Kate and kick Axl's ass myself."

"You could have done it, too. And it would have been such a turn-on to see you beating up Axl Rose in that dress. Damn, just thinking about it . . ."

"No more antagonizing hair metal bands. And no more faking out an entire audience of important music execs. And especially no more twenty foot bass tosses."

"Hey, I'm not the bass player. You're lecturing the wrong guy. I could try to do a twenty foot cymbal toss, though. That might be fun."

"I hate you."

Dave bursted into laughter and pushed Reagan back down onto the bed, smothering her with a face full of kisses. She fought him off, but only for a moment before she dissolved into giggles and allowed him to pin her down.

"I'm a good boy," Dave declared, propping himself up on one elbow next to her. "If Kurt says, 'hey, let's freak out the MTV assholes,' I say okay. If Courtney picks a fight with someone, I offer my assistance when it gets messy. And if Krist decides to knock himself out with his bass, I think, 'hm, questionable,' but I'm the first one to check on him to make sure he's not dead."

"What a hero you are," Reagan said sarcastically. "Thank god you guys won two awards tonight. If you hadn't, people would have probably been wondering what the hell they'd even invited you for."

"Hey, I'm sorry if I worried you. I know you were probably freaked out because Gracie was there tonight."

"Sure I was. Otherwise, I would have been going at it right along with you. I might have even flashed you from the side of the stage."

"Why didn't you? That would have been awesome," Dave whined.

"Your mind is permanently lodged in the gutter, Grohl," Reagan said.

"That doesn't work anymore when you say that. You're Grohl now, too," Dave responded, inching his face closer to Reagan's. She felt his warm breath on her lips, cloying and sweet as if insisting that she lean up and kiss him. "And if my mind is in the gutter, that's only because I've been thinking about fucking y-,"

He was interrupted by a rapid knock on the door. Reagan lifted her head up and Dave groaned, flopping down onto her in obvious annoyance over the disruption.

"Hold on," she said quickly, squirming out from under him and rushing to the door. The knocks were coming again, now faster and more urgent. When she answered, she saw Kate standing with Gracie bundled against her chest. Gracie was wide awake and pink in the face, her eyes watery and her chest heaving with tiny pants. Reagan knew that look. It was the same one that Gracie wore after a hellish crying fit.

"What happened?" Reagan cried, automatically reaching for Gracie's blanket-swaddled body.

"She's fine! Just gimme' the pink bear!" Kate demanded haughtily, jerking Gracie away from Reagan's hands.

"Which pink bear? We have like, five of them!"

"The one that plays a song when you twist the knob on the back!"

"Kate," Reagan said, her voice rising with concern. "If she's giving you trouble, just give her back to me. I can put her to sleep."

"I've got it under control," Kate snapped. "She just needs that stupid bear. Unless Dave is going to come down the hall and sing her to sleep, she's never going to bed. You two idiots have her trained to fall asleep to music now."

They both looked at Dave accusingly. He was sitting up on both elbows, lounging as he watched their exchange from afar. He widened his eyes innocently once he registered the annoyance in both of their stares.

"What? She likes it when I sing to her. Sue me," he said.

Reagan ignored him and went to the opposite side of the room, crouching down as she sifted through one of Gracie's bags. She pushed back several stuffed animals before finding the alleged singing bear.

"This is the one," she announced, holding it up triumphantly.

She handed it over to Kate and gave her sister a skeptical look. Kate narrowed her eyes into slits in return, practically daring Reagan to say what she was thinking.

"If you think I can't watch my own niece for one night, then you're insane," Kate said.

"She's in a mood, Kate. She had a long night. Maybe she should just stay with me and Dave."

"No. I've got the bear, I've got your bottled boob milk, I'm fine."

"Ha!" Dave said, barking out a laugh. "Boob milk."

Reagan glowered at him. "You're a child," she spat in his direction. "And it's not boob milk. I stopped breastfeeding her last month. She's on formula now."

"Formula, boob milk, whatever! We'll be fine. I'll come back if I need anything. Or not. Don't worry, okay?"

Before Reagan could chide Kate any further into turning Gracie over, Kate spun on her heels and went back down the hallway. Reagan shut the door and flipped the lock after realizing that Kate wasn't coming back, trying not to grumble under her breath.

Kate was lucky that Reagan was feeling lenient that night. She hadn't actually been prepared to give Gracie away for an overnight stay, even if she was just going to be a few rooms over. It felt already like they were oceans apart. She couldn't even remember the last time that they'd been separated, except for when Gracie had been confined to the hospital after her birth.

Maybe that was why Reagan was so touchy about letting her go. Maybe — no, surely — that was why she was turning into one of those helicopter moms, even though she swore to herself that she'd allow that practice to fade with time. To Reagan, Gracie was still fragile, as breakable as the finest piece of thinly cut glassware in a five-star restaurant. Not long ago, Reagan had had to suffer through nightmare-ish thoughts of losing her. She didn't want them to come back, and least of all did she want them to come true.

But then again, Kate was only trying to help. She was attempting to let Reagan be normal for once without having a baby attached to her hip. And then there was Dave, who she hadn't been truly alone with since Gracie had come into the picture.

Dave, who was right there with her then, poised on their luxuriously oversized bed.

She remembered his presence and felt a tingle trickle downwards along her spine. It was impossible not to feel his eyes boring into her back, almost begging her to face him.

Reagan turned around, tucking her hands behind her hips and leaning against the door. Dave was sitting up now, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he stared at her.

"Alone again," she observed. Another spindly line of electricity coursed down her back.

"All alone."

It would have been impossible to tell who moved first. Reagan lurched forward, but it looked like Dave had already predicted what she was thinking, jumping off of the bed and closing the gap between them before she could take another step.

He gathered her up into his arms without prelude, kissing her aggressively and clawing at the back of her dress. Reagan pushed her mouth against his, snagging her teeth against his bottom lip and feeling victorious when he shuddered and cursed as she did so.

He shoved the straps of her dress past her shoulders, pooling it her waist and hungrily moving his mouth to her chest. She felt his tongue glide along in between her breasts and the feeling was inexplicably wonderful, like summer rain on a blistering hot day. That dress couldn't come off soon enough. She'd grown fond of it that night, but now it had to go completely.

Dave whirled Reagan around, tossing her lightly into the bed and tugging her dress off down her legs. She reached her hands up to help him remove his shirt, but he was already halfway finished in getting it off, yanking it over his head along with the undershirt beneath it. She smoothed her hands down the wiry front of his chest, feeling along the soft planes of his abdomen. He welcomed her assistance in removing the rest of his clothing. Her fingers couldn't work fast enough to pull down the waistband of his pants.

Finally undressed, Dave laid himself down on top of Reagan, tangling his hands into her hair and kissing her fervently. He tickled her with his fingertips as he guided them down her neck and past her sides, all the way to her underwear where he slipped them past the soft cotton.

"You forgot those," she breathed.

"No I didn't. I was going to make you wait a little."

"There's nothing to wait for."

Reagan's hand shot down to remove her underwear herself, but Dave caught her by the wrist in a tight grasp. She shivered when he navigated her hand towards his, beneath the cotton and against his fingers where she could feel herself — where she could feel him touching her.

"You're a little eager tonight," he said coyly.

"And you're being a brat," Reagan growled, though she didn't sound the least bit menacing when she was breathing so hard. "So what, you win Best New Artist and Best Alternative Video and now you think you're special?"

"You know you love it. And yes, I do think I'm sort of special, and I was planning on showing you how."

Playing into his game, Reagan dragged her hand down Dave's stomach and took her turn touching him, smirking when he gasped as she closed her fingers into a fist.

"Fuck, Reagan."

"That's what I thought. Smart ass."

He got to his knees and balanced himself over her, nudging her legs astride after he finally pulled her underwear off and tossed them over his shoulder. With his hands on her thighs, he pushed her legs back to her chest by several taunting inches.

As badly as Reagan wanted to win their little verbal
sparring match, her mind clouded over when she felt Dave push his way inside of her all at once, pressing his hips into hers. She tilted her head back into the pillowy-down comforter, her lips forming into an agonized 'o' and her fingers wringing at the bedsheets. Dave placed a kiss on her throat, tantalizing her just a little bit longer.

He had every right to. The night may have been disastrously chaotic, but he was riding on the high of a lifetime, the very peak of it ending with the perfect human being that he got to call his lying beneath him.

"I hope you're not tired," he said, grazing his teeth against her neck and moving his hips slowly, loving the sound of the whimper that she made.

"Mhm? And if I am?"

"Then you can sleep tomorrow, because I'm not stopping any time soon."

a/n - uh, can you tell it was horny for dave hours when i wrote this?