[ forewarning; this is probably the most r rated thing i've ever written, at least publicly. it's taken me days to post it because i honestly am a bit embarrassed. so i guess prepare yourselves and don't judge me too harshly lol ]

          AFTER REAGAN HAD snatched Dave's gift from upstairs, together they'd bid a rushed wave of goodbyes and thank-you's to her family. She dragged Dave out of the front door by his hand before sliding her arms into her oversized coat. She was breathing hard, hard enough that the cloudy puffs of air that left her mouth hung still in the might, a clear sign of the outside chill. Dave was on her heels as the door shut and left them alone in the dark.

"Are you okay?" he predictably asked, trying to catch up with her as she walked determinedly down the driveway.

"Yeah," Reagan said. "I'm fine. I just . . . had to get out of there for a bit."

"Did I say something? I thought we would end up staying longer than that."

Dave caught her by the arm and slowed her pace, looking concerned as he spun Reagan around to face him. They stood outside of what Reagan concluded was Krist's van, borrowed by Dave for the night. He was really going to have to get a car of his own soon if he planned on staying permanently in Washington.

She shook her head, feeling the tendrils of her hair brush against her face as she did so. Her annoyance with Kimberly was building higher and higher, like a junk tower in a landfill that was bound to spill over. Even with a solid amount of distance between them, her anger had yet to fade.

"It's my mom," she babbled, losing her sense of a filter. "She just drives me crazy sometimes. She was being so weird and I wanted to get out of there. And I wanted you out of there too and I'm sorry. I know you like them a lot but her and I, we don't get along sometimes —,"

Dave cut Reagan off, gently touching his fingertips to her mouth. He moved closer to her, comfortingly wrapping his arm around her waist in a protective cradle. His eyes spoke volumes of understanding as he peered into her apologetic gaze.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

He pulled her into a hug, kissing her head twice as she pressed contentedly into him and sighed. He hadn't asked for a bigger explanation, which was what she'd hoped for. Reagan would have rather saved her commentary on her mother for another night, one in which they weren't standing outside in the cold on Christmas with gifts for each other in hand.

Their drive back to the apartment was filled with little conversation, though Reagan couldn't complain. Dave turned up the volume of the radio, and instead of playing the cheesy Christmas music from the local radio station, he played one of Krist's homemade tapes. The sound of the music that Reagan was so fond of was what eventually soothed her. Between that and Dave's close proximity to where she sat, Kimberly became a distant thing of the past as they drove farther and farther away from her house.

When they arrived at Dave's place, they found that Kurt was not even home yet. The apartment was pitch black until Dave switched on the lights, calling out for his roommate.

"So much for keeping him company," Reagan said, taking off her coat and looking around while hugging Dave's present to her chest. She was surprised that Kurt had not escaped his mother's house yet.

"I'm not upset about it. I'd rather us be alone anyways," Dave admitted, wearing one of his shamelessly wicked grins. Reagan smiled back at him and took a seat on the couch, laying his gift across her lap. The wrapping job that she'd done on it had not been her best work and she winced as she noticed the tape that she'd stuck on haphazardly.

Dave sat down beside her, so close that he'd minimized all space between them. With their legs and arms touching, he presented the gift that he'd originally held when he'd first arrived at Reagan's house. It was long and skinny, leaving Reagan with little idea as to what it was.

"For you," he smiled, holding it out to her. She traded presents with him, accepting her own and giving it a good shake beside her ear. Something rattled on the inside, rolling around against the box.

"You're not supposed to do that," Dave laughed. Reagan ignored him and began to tear open the present, peeling away the decorative paper until she was left with a long, rectangular case. When she lifted open the lid, she felt her eyes soften. Inside the casing was a pair of drumsticks.

"Oh," she said gently. She lifted the sticks out of their box and turned them over in her hands. They were a well worn pair, and definitely not brand new. Somehow, she liked them better that way, with addition of scuffing along their wooden shape and the feel of having been gripped by another pair of hands.

Reading her mind again, Dave tapped the sticks with his finger. "I didn't buy them," he said guiltily. "They were mine, actually. I used them on this past tour. I figured I'd give them to you so you could use them to play whenever I'm away again. That way, you always know I'm with you."

Reagan pressed her lips together, wondering if she was really about to cry, or if she'd tricked her own mind into it. Yet, Dave's thoughtfulness had made her feel somewhat weepy as she sat there, holding his old pair of drumsticks in her hands. Already, she felt like she was holding on to a piece of him. She recalled their conversation at the coffee house in Seattle and knew that an intentional meaning had gone into the gift.

"Thank you," she said. "Really. They're amazing." She kissed him to show her gratitude, but before he could deepen the kiss, she drew backwards and gestured impatiently to his gift. "Now you open yours!"

He grinned and obediently stripped away the paper covering his present before revealing what Reagan had gotten him; it was a photo book that she had found in a nearby record store, filled with pictures of Led Zeppelin from their legendary concerts.

The book itself was a distinguished piece of memorabilia, not even having belonged to an actual publisher of any sort. The seller had told her that only several copies existed, made by one individual guy. This had surprised Reagan as she'd checked out at the counter, mainly because she felt that the price of the book had not reflected its rarity.

Dave gawked as he flipped through the pages, thumbing through the stack of glossy folio and watching as a rainbow of colored images flew by. Reagan smiled proudly as she watched him, both relieved and happy to see that he was fascinated by her choice of a gift. It was the kind of thing, after all, that had his name written all over it.

"Reagan, holy shit. This is so fucking cool! I love it!" he exclaimed, mystified as he stopped on a particular page that displayed an iconic image of John Bonham, hammering away behind his drum kit.

"It's a one of a kind. There are only a few others out there like it," Reagan explained. "I saw it and I knew it had to be yours. I couldn't leave it there, where some undeserving Led Zeppelin fan would pick it up."

"So I'm the deserving one then, huh?" Dave chuckled, continuing to flip through the pages until he focused back on Reagan slowly with his blatant love for her written across his face.

"The most deserving," she told him, staring deeply into his eyes. Somewhere inside her head, she knew her words had a double meaning. He was deserving in more ways than one. That much she had come to understand since meeting him.

Only five, stand-still seconds passed until Dave was pressed against Reagan like a magnet. His hands found their usual tender place around her neck, feeling against her skin before traveling down the front of her chest. This was a special kind of kiss — or at least, that's what Reagan intuitively knew. It wasn't the kind of kiss that was filled with patience or sweetness or composure. It was a kiss that held a message as plain as a day, and it was a message of how badly he suddenly wanted her right then and there.

His hands cupped her breasts through the delicate fabric of her dress, causing her to sigh with pleasure against his mouth. It wasn't much longer until Dave's fingers, well-calloused and rough from his drum-playing, were scuttling down the forefront of Reagan's outfit, un-doing each individual button that kept him separated from her naked body. In the midst of his hurriedness, her hand snaked downwards until she felt the hard lump centered in the front of his jeans. His want for her was insatiable, but she could not blame him, not when she felt the exact same way.

No matter how often she found herself lying beneath him, moaning his name and seeing stars behind her closed eyelids in the midst of the gratification that he made her feel, Reagan would never have enough of Dave. It was more than even a basic need. It was want, want, want, always there in the back of their minds, made stronger by the revelation that they loved one another.

Reagan shrugged eagerly out of her dress as Dave kissed down her chest and stomach, hooking his fingers around the waistbands of both her tights and underwear. When those were discarded, she felt her body jolt when he began to kiss hungrily between her thighs. The addition of his fingers, sliding between her legs and curling upwards into her, made her gasp. His tongue had barely even touched her there and she already felt herself shaking, gripping behind her head where the arm of the couch was.

"Dave," she breathed, his name whooshing from her lips with a stammering desperation.

"I like it when you say my name."

She could have buried her face in between the couch cushions out of embarrassment. He'd only just begun, his fingers and tongue co-partnering against her in one whirlwind of sensation, but she was already losing her mind with longing. She felt her hips thrust upwards and her eyesight go black while her legs trembled, Dave never stopping once as she squirmed in his grip. His face remained hidden between her legs, his tongue pressed into her as if she were the only good thing left in the world to taste.

Minutes, even hours could have passed without Reagan knowing. She heard her own voice, shaping around a moan that called out his name as she registered she was getting close. She was teetering on the edge of sheer ecstasy and the temptation to linger and see what else he had in store for her. If loving him for his personality wasn't already enough, then loving his attentiveness towards her physical needs was a close second.

"I know you want to come," Dave said. He lifted himself up, hovering over her body. When she opened her eyes and leaned her head up to kiss him, she felt his tongue flick out and trace itself against her bottom lip. She gasped again, now feeling properly tortured.

In all of Reagan's past sexual endeavors, she'd always asserted herself as being in charge. Somehow, it had always ended up being that way, regardless of the person she was with. She was the one who knew how to touch and kiss and make someone beg for her. In fact, sex had almost become boring — she'd been great at making her sexual partners (a grand total of three besides Dave) feel insane pleasure. But they'd never succeeded in returning the favor.

But Dave had. He had and he'd done it in ways she'd never dreamt of. He made her plead even when she didn't want to. She always had claimed to be the kind of girl who never gave in. In spite of that, she was willing to plead for him.

"Please," she whispered, her chest rising and falling heavily. She clutched around his neck, trying to bribe his lips into touching hers again.

He continued to hold himself over her, un-doing his jeans with one hand and tugging them down along with his boxer shorts. And in one fluid motion, hard and fast, he was inside of her. Reagan groaned and screwed her eyes shut, her hands latching onto him as her fingernails carved deep impressions in the valleys of his back. This only seemed to taunt him further into pushing harder and moving his hips faster against Reagan's own, rocking the couch in the process.

"Oh my God, Dave," Reagan cried, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was so close that she felt her nerve endings spasming, sending little shocks of bliss all the way up to her brain.

"Come for me." Dave was breathing hard, but managed to duck his head down to mash his lips against Reagan's. Even in the cloudy haze that he was in, he could only think about how much he loved her and how badly he wanted to manifest that love into something physical. If she said his name again, he knew he wouldn't last much longer either.

All of the sudden, the sound of a key scraping in the front door's lock snagged both of their attentions. Dave froze on top of Reagan, locking his arms on either side of her body. They connected their stares, both their eyes widening with realization.

Kurt was home.

"Fuck!" Reagan hissed, shoving at Dave's shoulders and scuttling off of the couch. She grabbed her dress from underneath her and without thinking, flew down the hallway and into Dave's room. Maybe Dave could stand to be seen naked on the couch by Kurt, but she knew that she'd die of embarrassment if that happened to her.

Hell, Kurt would have probably died from embarrassment if that happened.

Once in the safety of his room, she spun around to slam the door shut and yelped when she saw Dave standing behind her. He was breathing fast and simultaneously pulling his shirt back on while struggling to slip his legs fully into his jeans.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "He opened the door right as we ran around the corner."

"Did he see us?" Reagan demanded, feeling her stomach nosedive all the way to her feet.

"I don't think so. I mean, if he did, all he saw was me running with my jeans around my ankles."

She couldn't help it. Reagan laughed into the palm of  her hand, leaning against Dave's wall as she watched him dress in front of her. He laughed too, shaking his head but still looking flustered as he buttoned his jeans and glanced skeptically over his shoulder.

After they'd both gotten their clothes back on, Dave took Reagan's hand, leading her back out to the living room. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and he brushed back her hair to whisper in her ear.

"We've got to act like nothing happened. I'll make it up to you though. We're not finished yet."

Her arms and legs broke out in a shiver of goosebumps as she felt Dave's breath tickle the side of her face. They weren't finished — she liked the sound of that.

They walked casually out into the living room, spotting Kurt sitting, of course, on the couch. There was a Christmas gift sitting beside him on the next seat cushion and he appeared to be in a sour mood, sporting a stormy eyed gaze as he flipped through television stations.

"Hey," Dave said, walking past his roommate innocently.

"Hey," Kurt grumbled. His eyes flashed to Reagan and then back to Dave, then back to Reagan before repeating the same sequence. Worriedly, Reagan touched the buttons on her dress, wondering if she'd accidentally put it on backwards.

"What are you guys up to?" Kurt asked suspiciously.

"Celebrating, of course," Dave replied easily. He appeared back from the kitchen with two cans of beer, tossing one into Kurt's surprised hands.

"Sure," Kurt said, popping open the can but saying nothing more.

Dave took the open seat next to him, gesturing with his eyes that Reagan do the same. She moved Kurt's gift, which she assumed was from his mother, and sat beside him. Kurt remained in the middle.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Kurt said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Sitting," Reagan said innocently. "With you."

"But why?"

"Don't you want company?"

"Did you guys do something? Like, murder someone or something like that?"

"Nah. Those our are plans for tomorrow night," Dave said with a breezy laugh.

Kurt didn't question their odd behavior for any longer than that. He sat back into the couch and continued to surf through the channels on the television, nursing his beer with a hard-to-read look on his face.

Reagan glimpsed past Kurt at Dave. He grinned at her, and she felt her lips twitch into a smile. She didn't know what was making her smile more in that moment; the fact that they'd escaped from being caught in a compromising situation, or that Dave's promise of continuing later where they'd left off was still lingering his eyes.