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.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you this morning," Reagan apologized earnestly, though she wore an impish smile.

"Reags," Chris had sighed with a shake of her head. "You can't surprise me any more than you already have."

With the final member of the wedding party present, the night had raged on. Nothing could have damaged the mood of the evening, not even for Kurt, who smiled and belly-laughed along with the rest of his friends. Reagan had taken his hand at one point, compressing her fingers against his as a silent thank-you. She knew she had returned the favor to Kurt that night in watching the way he beamed at his friends, looking the most contended that he had been in days. Reagan had helped gift him a night of pure, unblemished happiness.

Even as the evening had dimmed and they had all said their thanks and parting goodbyes, Reagan still felt caught on her personal cloud nine, so far up in the skies of her own thoughts that she nearly was shocked that she wasn't dreaming. And even that was a paradox in itself. Not long ago, she'd envisioned her future wedding day to be an actual nightmare.

But it had been far from it.

"Weren't you supposed to carry me over the threshold or something?" she teased, leaning over to tug her shoes off of her feet.

Dave had been standing by the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket that had been dampened from a light, earlier rainfall. Once he processed what Reagan had said, he looked up at her with a mask of horror. His expression was so genuine that Reagan blinked curiously in response, wondering if she'd said something wrong.

"Fuck," he cursed. "I totally forgot about that."

She was about to reassure him that it was okay, that they had already broken enough traditions as it was, but Dave already had his mind set. His drunken buzz only fueled his resolve further as he strode confidently towards her.

"No!" Reagan laughed through a squeal as he picked her up in his arms. He tottered slightly, drunk enough that balance seemed to evade him as he adjusted her weight against his biceps.

"Yes," Dave said firmly. "At least let me do something right."

"You do everything right," Reagan muttered with a discreet eye roll as he re-opened the door, took a jaunty step outside, and then walked back into the light of their home. He smirked, pleased with himself for having fulfilled his duty as a groom.

"There," he said proudly, setting Reagan back down on her feet. "Now all we've got to do is pretend that that actually happened the first time."

"Okay," Reagan agreed through a giggle.

She smiled at him with a thick veil of undisguised love in her eyes, the kind of love that was blatantly gushing and obnoxiously true. It was the kind of loving look that Reagan would have once rolled her eyes at, deeming it to be corny and overrated, a cliche amongst all couples. But as she stood there, looking at her husband, it was all she could feel down to the physical tips of her toes.

If anything, it was like she was seeing Dave for the very first time, past the smoky haze of the bars they had treaded into and through the exterior of him being some great, budding musician who was about to leave her to go on a laborious, long tour. He was just Dave. Goofy smile, warm eyes and all. He was there in front of her and he was all hers.

She caught flashes in her mind back to when they had first met, when she'd filled in as Nirvana's one-time drummer and Dave had been hell-bent on coaxing a decent conversation out of her. She remembered their risky stunt in the broom closet and how good it had felt to be pressed into his arms. She never would have known that that pleasure would transform into what she felt for him right then.

Dave Grohl had changed her. But he had not changed her negatively, nor had he imposed some kind of unwarranted shift in her life. He had opened up her heart and made her feel things that she had once not believed in. And in the end, it had been an easy decision to melt into his embrace and accept his love and his ultimate offer.

He would be hers. He loved her enough to devote himself to her entirely. His music, his band, all of that mattered of course.

But she mattered the most.

He looked at her shyly, aware that she was observing him with a thousand thoughts running through her head. He held out his hand to her, a quiet proposal that could not be substituted with words. Reagan placed her hand in his palm and felt another smile crack upon her lips when he pulled her quickly against him.

"I love you," he said seriously. She peered into his eyes and saw that his alcohol-induced high had nearly faded; his brown irises were completely sincere .

"I love you too," she murmured. A flutter of pleasure zipped down her spine as she tucked her face into his neck, inhaling the smell of his skin. She remembered, just for a split-second, that he was leaving her in the next two days. She shoved the reminder down.

Not now. Not while we're like this.

He kissed the crown of her head and began to sway, gently holding Reagan to his chest as he moved side to side with her locked in his arms. She listened as he started to hum under his breath and was able to identify the tune almost immediately.

"Unchained Melody?" she laughed, drawing away to stare up at him with a smug smile. Until the day she died, she would never let him live down his guilty pleasure for the old Righteous Brothers song.

"It was the first song that popped into my head," Dave admitted. "Mostly because I was thinking about that day at your house. You know, the one where we danced together."

The mention of her old home stirred up images of Richard. Reagan mentally batted them away, determined to deal with the matter of how she would tell her father that she'd gotten married without his knowledge at a later date. Right then, all she wanted was to go back in time, back to the precise moment in which Dave had broken all her previously held prejudices against dancing.

"We did dance to that, didn't we?" she mused, laying her head back onto his chest. She felt him take her hand, slipping his fingers into the spaces between hers and holding it close to his heart. Beneath his shirt, she could feel the faint thud of it, pulsing against her fingertips. It was a nice feeling.

"We did," he said. He paused, considering something briefly before speaking again. "You know, if we had been able to have an actual first dance together, I think that would have been the song I would have chosen for us."

Reagan pulled back again to look at him, raising her eyebrows at his remark.

"What?" he asked apprehensively. "You wouldn't have picked that one?"

"I would have," Reagan assured him. "But I just think it's pretty cute that you thought about it first."

Dave let out a barking laugh. "I've thought about marrying you for awhile now, Reagan Grohl."

Reagan felt her stomach twist in a pleasurable response to hearing her new name out loud. It gave her an intense amount of satisfaction to know that she had shed her old name, a mark of her past, only to embrace what laid ahead of her — Dave. And not just Dave, but their child together. Even that mountain that they had to climb seemed a lot less intimidating after the day they'd had.

"You sure that you didn't agree to all of this because I got knocked up? Because I've thought it over and honestly, I could understand your point if it was." She was teasing them, but beneath the layer of humor she'd laid on heavy to her words, there was a real twinge of worry.

"You getting pregnant definitely played a part in it. But I would say that it only gave me the courage to finally ask you to marry me."

"You couldn't have actually wanted to marry me already," Reagan argued, being decidedly difficult as they danced. "It's barely been a year since I agreed to date you."

"Are you sure it was you who agreed to date me?"

Reagan rolled her eyes. "You totally pined for me."

"You liked it," Dave smirked back, gripping her a little tighter.

"Maybe I did. But all that aside, how can you be so sure that this is actually what you want? What if you wake up tomorrow morning and see that ring on your finger and regret the whole thing?"

"You act like it's impossible for me to know my own feelings. I'm sure about this, Reags. I've been sure about you from day one."

"What a line," Reagan said through a slight scoff.

Dave halted their dancing, reaching a hand up to grab Reagan's chin and hold her face steady so that she had no option but to look into his eyes. He was frowning, but his face was dead serious.

"Reagan. Stop doubting this. Take my word for how I feel, okay? From the moment Krist introduced you to me at the damn show, I just . . . I don't know. I didn't know that we'd be married, but I knew I had to have you. I knew that I'd want you for a really long time. It only took me a few fuckin' weeks to figure out that I'd want you forever."

She felt a warm heat creeping up her neck, a combination of flattery and embarrassment over how far she had pushed him. She knew was being ridiculous. They wouldn't have made things official if they hadn't been completely and utterly sure about each other.

But of course, she would always fear losing him. Somehow, that pesky worry would always burrow itself into her brain, trying to convince her that Dave would leave some day.

"I was kidding," she said lamely. The blush had finally reached the apples of her cheeks.

"You're not really funny then," Dave snorted, rolling his eyes.

"You're such a closeted hopeless-romantic. It's kind of grossing me out," she teased as Dave continued to sway her in a small circle, containing them both to the slight shuffling of his feet.

He scowled and with his free hand, smacked the seat of her jeans lightly. She attempted to return the gesture, but he caught her wrist and returned it to where it had laid against his chest.

"Be good," he instructed through a murmur. She almost challenged him with a clever comeback, but succumbed to the way he held her. Maybe they'd both had enough of her rambling and nitpicking for one night. After all, they were sort of on what was to be their honeymoon. She knew that she needed to shut up and enjoy it before he was gone, vanished into thin air on a plane going somewhere far away.

He started to hum again, still to the tune of Unchained Melody, and she closed her eyes. For a moment, she could hear the actual music of the song as they did their best impression of a first dance right there in the middle of their tiny living room. In her imagination, there was no tomorrow, no prospect of Dave leaving or having to confess to their parents what they'd done or the scary thought of what would happen if Nirvana gained worldwide popularity.

There was not even the question of how in the hell she would manage being pregnant alone without him.

There was none of that. There was only just the two of them, dancing their first dance together as husband and wife.