But Honestly: Chapter Eighteen, Hitched
Title: But Honestly: Chapter Eighteen, Hitched
Rating: PG-13 [language, sexual conversations]
Summary: The couple get hitched.
Staring into her cup of coffee, Lindsie tuned out the babbling of the four men. It seemed like they spoke another language, one she was not familiar with at all. Perhaps if she had some sleep in her body not just caffeine on her tongue, she would have been able to process their words. Instead it was all just a bunch of low-grade and probably low-brow conversation that she did not understand at all.
“Baby?” the first word seemingly directed at her interrupted the haze of confusion surrounding her.
Lindsie’s eyes slowly turned to Dave’s. She said nothing and sipped from her cup again.
His lips touched her temple, “You okay?”
“Dave, I have gotten absolutely no sleep at all. We’re supposed to be at the county clerk’s office in little under an hour to get married and I am certain I have big enough bags under my eyes that you could tuck Taylor and his drum kit into. And I have no idea what the four of you have been talking about at all,” she responded. “I’m going to go with not being okay.”
He frowned, glancing at his band mates before focusing back on her, “We can postpone everything if you want. I’m sure I can call and reschedule—”
“Okay,” Lindsie instantly replied. “Reschedule for later today and then come sleep with me.”
“Duuuuude, you’re putting off your wedding for some se—”
“Shut up, Taylor,” both Lindsie and Dave said in unison.
His shoulders sank and he slipped down in the booth like a scolded child.
“Let’s head back upstairs. I’ll tuck you in and then call and make all of the arrangements,” Dave claimed, nudging Lindsie to scoot out of the booth.
“Dave, what about the guys?”
“They can find plenty of ways to keep entertained,” he responded, dropping a bill on the table to pay for the meal. “After all we didn’t invite them as it were; we’re not responsible for them.”
Before any of the band mates could argue that point, Dave whisked Lindsie away. They didn’t speak in the elevator at all, but after a night of all talking, neither felt the need to converse any more. They were more in tune than they had ever been; words unneeded. He guided her into the room, locked the door with all the available locks, and lead Lindsie back over to the bed. Dutifully stripping her of everything except her tee shirt and panties, he kissed her lovingly and tucked her into the bed.
Scooping his cell phone off the nightstand and double-checking the locks once more, Dave headed out onto the balcony. Flipping his phone open and digging out a cigarette he sat down in one of the chairs as he searched for the tattoo parlor’s number. With that rescheduled for the following day, he dialed the county clerk to change their marriage time. Postponing that until sunset that evening, Dave slipped his phone onto the nearby side table and leaned back to enjoy his cigarette. By sundown he would be a married man again. And this time for keeps.
His phone buzzed across the little table, his hand darting out to catch it moments before it would have hit the hard surface. Glancing at the display, he frowned upon seeing Taylor’s face. He really did not want to talk to the drummer at all or really any of the guys. This was supposed to be his time with his woman, not their time with his woman. Silencing the call, he finished his cigarette and slinked back into the hotel suite. Powering off his cell phone completely, Dave crawled into bed next to Lindsie.
Kissing her ear as his arm slipped around her, he stated, “Baby, I pushed our wedding back until sunset. And that tattooist will take us first thing in the morning.”
“Mmmm, perfect,” she breathed.
Standing outside the judge’s chambers, Lindsie fidgeted with her summery white dress once more. She pulled it up once more, thinking for whatever reason that the strapless was sagging, revealing her back tattoo and breasts, though neither were happening. She brushed her hair repeatedly back from her face. Her fingers ran over the swish of her skirt. Her nerves were boiling over.
“Baby,” Dave leaned over and kissed her ear, “everything is fine. You look beautiful. It’s just you and me. Everything is fine.”
However as soon as those words passed his lips, the corridor filled with the sound of a marching band. Dave’s eyes widened, knowing without a doubt that the band was heading towards them, likely lead by a very particular blond drummer. Without much thought he reached for the door handle and opened the door, ushering Lindsie in before the band reached them. The judge looked up and shook his head.
“Good evening, Mr. Grohl. Brought the whole band with you?”
“Not intentionally,” he responded. “Apparently my band thought it would be funny to hire an entire other band to ... do whatever it is they’re doing. Can I lock the door?”
“Sure.”
Lindsie kept her eyes focused on her husband-to-be as he moved back to the door and locked it. A moment later the doorknob wiggled, likely Taylor trying to impose upon the wedding. Her eyes went to Dave and he flashed her a reassuring grin before digging the marriage license out of his breast pocket. Handing the slip of paper to the judge, he watched as the snowy-haired man smoothed it out and looked it over.
“Everything looks to be in order. Shall we?” he stood, motioning to the door that led out of his office and into the official chambers.
Following the judge into the other room, Lindsie’s eyes flicked to the two people who were apparently to act as witnesses to her marriage to Dave. Unassuming strangers who likely had no idea who Dave were seemed to sigh boredly as the judge got situated. Her fingers found Dave’s and she squeezed hard, causing his brows to knit as he looked at her.
“Babe?”
“I.... this isn’t how I pictured my wedding, Dave,” she muttered softly.
He turned fully to her, “Do you not want to do this?”
“No. Yes. I mean.... I want to be married to you. I love you. You are totally the one for me. But something... something doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.
“Linds, if you want to put this off and do a real wedding, then we’ll do just that. I just want you to be happy,” Dave proclaimed.
“I want this, Dave. I do. I just... I’m missing something.”
One of the witnesses stepped forward, holding out a simple bouquet of flowers, “He ordered these for you.”
Her eyes went to the small bouquet of flowers. White paper butterflies flitted about between brightly colored daisies. Tears sparkled in Lindsie’s eyes at the gesture and she reached hesitatingly for them. Her fingers touched the ribbon wrapped stems and her gaze flicked to Dave. His eyes sparkled as he held hers. Reaching out with her empty hand, Lindsie stepped back over to Dave, colorful flowers clutching in her fingers.
Ten minutes later the pair faced each other, the judge’s declaration ringing in their ears. That was it. They were wed. Kissing sealed the deal, made it real. And this time, this moment, Lindsie did not hesitate at all. Her arms looped around his neck, her hand still clutching the flowers, and her lips pressed against his. When the simple kiss ended, she giggled as he lifted her from the ground and kissed her again.
“So, Mrs. Grohl, are you reading to face the music?” he teased.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go kick Taylor’s ass.”
“Oh a woman after my own heart.”
Laying on her back, Lindsie stared up at the ceiling. The entire room seemed to be revolving or maybe that was just her vision. She couldn’t remember drinking so much before, but Dave’s entire band insisted on treating the two of them to the best wedding reception that money could buy on a very short notice. Apparently this also meant inviting a hundred of Dave’s new best friends, who also just happened to be random guests in the hotel. Or maybe it was the other way around; they had been random guests in the hotel and after whooping it up with the Foo Fighters were now Dave’s best friends. She wasn’t entirely sure and didn’t really care. All she wanted was her new husband to come back to her. And for the room to stop spinning.
“Linds? You in here?” Dave’s voice slurred.
“Uh huh.”
“You want anything?” he shuffled towards where he thought she was.
“No more spinning,” she replied.
Dave missed the bed by a good two feet, falling flat on his face, “Oh fuck.”
Lindsie rolled over and stared down at him in the dim light from the single lit bedside lamp, “Wha ya doin’ down there, baby?”
“I fall down, go boom,” he replied, looking up at her. “How you up there?”
“I don’t miss beds,” she replied and rolled out of his view.
A few hours or minutes later, neither could really tell time, Dave climbed up into the bed next to her. He clumsily crawled towards her, his hands brusquely feeling up her body until he found the small swells of her breasts. But he did not caress or knead them. His hands merely covered her breasts as if protecting them from someone’s vision. Her hands awkwardly covered his.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Your breastssss are perfect,” he murmured. “Look at how they fit my hands.”
“Uh huh,” Lindsie responded, prying his fingers off her dress. “We should just sleep off this booze.”
“But issa our wedding niiiiiiiight,” Dave whined.
“Baby, as drunk as you are, you probably can’t get it up. And I’m dry as a bone,” she declared.
“Can too!” he proclaimed, attempting to push himself up from her to apparently prove it.
“Dave, my love, just sleep with me. We’ll make love when we’re sober and can feel every tingle from every caress,” Lindsie explained. “Just lay with me.”
He relaxed, his head finding a resting place between her breasts, “I lub you, Linds. I lub you lots.”
“I love you too, Dave. Always.”
Rating: PG-13 [language, sexual conversations]
Summary: The couple get hitched.
Let's Talk | Hitched |
Ink Virgin |
Staring into her cup of coffee, Lindsie tuned out the babbling of the four men. It seemed like they spoke another language, one she was not familiar with at all. Perhaps if she had some sleep in her body not just caffeine on her tongue, she would have been able to process their words. Instead it was all just a bunch of low-grade and probably low-brow conversation that she did not understand at all.
“Baby?” the first word seemingly directed at her interrupted the haze of confusion surrounding her.
Lindsie’s eyes slowly turned to Dave’s. She said nothing and sipped from her cup again.
His lips touched her temple, “You okay?”
“Dave, I have gotten absolutely no sleep at all. We’re supposed to be at the county clerk’s office in little under an hour to get married and I am certain I have big enough bags under my eyes that you could tuck Taylor and his drum kit into. And I have no idea what the four of you have been talking about at all,” she responded. “I’m going to go with not being okay.”
He frowned, glancing at his band mates before focusing back on her, “We can postpone everything if you want. I’m sure I can call and reschedule—”
“Okay,” Lindsie instantly replied. “Reschedule for later today and then come sleep with me.”
“Duuuuude, you’re putting off your wedding for some se—”
“Shut up, Taylor,” both Lindsie and Dave said in unison.
His shoulders sank and he slipped down in the booth like a scolded child.
“Let’s head back upstairs. I’ll tuck you in and then call and make all of the arrangements,” Dave claimed, nudging Lindsie to scoot out of the booth.
“Dave, what about the guys?”
“They can find plenty of ways to keep entertained,” he responded, dropping a bill on the table to pay for the meal. “After all we didn’t invite them as it were; we’re not responsible for them.”
Before any of the band mates could argue that point, Dave whisked Lindsie away. They didn’t speak in the elevator at all, but after a night of all talking, neither felt the need to converse any more. They were more in tune than they had ever been; words unneeded. He guided her into the room, locked the door with all the available locks, and lead Lindsie back over to the bed. Dutifully stripping her of everything except her tee shirt and panties, he kissed her lovingly and tucked her into the bed.
Scooping his cell phone off the nightstand and double-checking the locks once more, Dave headed out onto the balcony. Flipping his phone open and digging out a cigarette he sat down in one of the chairs as he searched for the tattoo parlor’s number. With that rescheduled for the following day, he dialed the county clerk to change their marriage time. Postponing that until sunset that evening, Dave slipped his phone onto the nearby side table and leaned back to enjoy his cigarette. By sundown he would be a married man again. And this time for keeps.
His phone buzzed across the little table, his hand darting out to catch it moments before it would have hit the hard surface. Glancing at the display, he frowned upon seeing Taylor’s face. He really did not want to talk to the drummer at all or really any of the guys. This was supposed to be his time with his woman, not their time with his woman. Silencing the call, he finished his cigarette and slinked back into the hotel suite. Powering off his cell phone completely, Dave crawled into bed next to Lindsie.
Kissing her ear as his arm slipped around her, he stated, “Baby, I pushed our wedding back until sunset. And that tattooist will take us first thing in the morning.”
“Mmmm, perfect,” she breathed.
Standing outside the judge’s chambers, Lindsie fidgeted with her summery white dress once more. She pulled it up once more, thinking for whatever reason that the strapless was sagging, revealing her back tattoo and breasts, though neither were happening. She brushed her hair repeatedly back from her face. Her fingers ran over the swish of her skirt. Her nerves were boiling over.
“Baby,” Dave leaned over and kissed her ear, “everything is fine. You look beautiful. It’s just you and me. Everything is fine.”
However as soon as those words passed his lips, the corridor filled with the sound of a marching band. Dave’s eyes widened, knowing without a doubt that the band was heading towards them, likely lead by a very particular blond drummer. Without much thought he reached for the door handle and opened the door, ushering Lindsie in before the band reached them. The judge looked up and shook his head.
“Good evening, Mr. Grohl. Brought the whole band with you?”
“Not intentionally,” he responded. “Apparently my band thought it would be funny to hire an entire other band to ... do whatever it is they’re doing. Can I lock the door?”
“Sure.”
Lindsie kept her eyes focused on her husband-to-be as he moved back to the door and locked it. A moment later the doorknob wiggled, likely Taylor trying to impose upon the wedding. Her eyes went to Dave and he flashed her a reassuring grin before digging the marriage license out of his breast pocket. Handing the slip of paper to the judge, he watched as the snowy-haired man smoothed it out and looked it over.
“Everything looks to be in order. Shall we?” he stood, motioning to the door that led out of his office and into the official chambers.
Following the judge into the other room, Lindsie’s eyes flicked to the two people who were apparently to act as witnesses to her marriage to Dave. Unassuming strangers who likely had no idea who Dave were seemed to sigh boredly as the judge got situated. Her fingers found Dave’s and she squeezed hard, causing his brows to knit as he looked at her.
“Babe?”
“I.... this isn’t how I pictured my wedding, Dave,” she muttered softly.
He turned fully to her, “Do you not want to do this?”
“No. Yes. I mean.... I want to be married to you. I love you. You are totally the one for me. But something... something doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.
“Linds, if you want to put this off and do a real wedding, then we’ll do just that. I just want you to be happy,” Dave proclaimed.
“I want this, Dave. I do. I just... I’m missing something.”
One of the witnesses stepped forward, holding out a simple bouquet of flowers, “He ordered these for you.”
Her eyes went to the small bouquet of flowers. White paper butterflies flitted about between brightly colored daisies. Tears sparkled in Lindsie’s eyes at the gesture and she reached hesitatingly for them. Her fingers touched the ribbon wrapped stems and her gaze flicked to Dave. His eyes sparkled as he held hers. Reaching out with her empty hand, Lindsie stepped back over to Dave, colorful flowers clutching in her fingers.
Ten minutes later the pair faced each other, the judge’s declaration ringing in their ears. That was it. They were wed. Kissing sealed the deal, made it real. And this time, this moment, Lindsie did not hesitate at all. Her arms looped around his neck, her hand still clutching the flowers, and her lips pressed against his. When the simple kiss ended, she giggled as he lifted her from the ground and kissed her again.
“So, Mrs. Grohl, are you reading to face the music?” he teased.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go kick Taylor’s ass.”
“Oh a woman after my own heart.”
Laying on her back, Lindsie stared up at the ceiling. The entire room seemed to be revolving or maybe that was just her vision. She couldn’t remember drinking so much before, but Dave’s entire band insisted on treating the two of them to the best wedding reception that money could buy on a very short notice. Apparently this also meant inviting a hundred of Dave’s new best friends, who also just happened to be random guests in the hotel. Or maybe it was the other way around; they had been random guests in the hotel and after whooping it up with the Foo Fighters were now Dave’s best friends. She wasn’t entirely sure and didn’t really care. All she wanted was her new husband to come back to her. And for the room to stop spinning.
“Linds? You in here?” Dave’s voice slurred.
“Uh huh.”
“You want anything?” he shuffled towards where he thought she was.
“No more spinning,” she replied.
Dave missed the bed by a good two feet, falling flat on his face, “Oh fuck.”
Lindsie rolled over and stared down at him in the dim light from the single lit bedside lamp, “Wha ya doin’ down there, baby?”
“I fall down, go boom,” he replied, looking up at her. “How you up there?”
“I don’t miss beds,” she replied and rolled out of his view.
A few hours or minutes later, neither could really tell time, Dave climbed up into the bed next to her. He clumsily crawled towards her, his hands brusquely feeling up her body until he found the small swells of her breasts. But he did not caress or knead them. His hands merely covered her breasts as if protecting them from someone’s vision. Her hands awkwardly covered his.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Your breastssss are perfect,” he murmured. “Look at how they fit my hands.”
“Uh huh,” Lindsie responded, prying his fingers off her dress. “We should just sleep off this booze.”
“But issa our wedding niiiiiiiight,” Dave whined.
“Baby, as drunk as you are, you probably can’t get it up. And I’m dry as a bone,” she declared.
“Can too!” he proclaimed, attempting to push himself up from her to apparently prove it.
“Dave, my love, just sleep with me. We’ll make love when we’re sober and can feel every tingle from every caress,” Lindsie explained. “Just lay with me.”
He relaxed, his head finding a resting place between her breasts, “I lub you, Linds. I lub you lots.”
“I love you too, Dave. Always.”
(Anonymous)