Part II
By The Guru
Peter was in the living room, relaxing comfortably in a chair, gently plucking his guitar. "'Ey, Petah," greeted Davy, forcing a relaxed smile
"Mornin'."
"Afternoon," retorted Peter good naturedly, "Late night?"
"Yeah," Davy scratched the back of his neck nervously, it didn't seem like Micky had said anything to anyone. "Eh, Pete? Ya 'aven't seen Micky,'ave ya?"
"He went out with Mike," shrugged Peter "I think they went to get some groceries."
"Oh... well, I was jus' wonderin' where everybody was," lied Davy, hopping up the spiral stairs and
heading into the bathroom. Peter returned to strumming his guitar, wondering what it was that had Davy so ruffled. Everyone saw Peter as the dummy, but he could always tell instantly when one of his friends were off center.
As he settled in for a long, hot shower, Davy's mind wandered back to Micky. He was curious about the
drummer, and the more he thought about him the more confused he became. He had been having wild, wonderful erotic dreams about Micky for a long time, and they had always been a great source of embarrassment for Davy. In the mornings it often ended that he could barely look at Micky in the eye. In the dreams, Micky always made the first move, and Davy never felt uncomfortable. Each time it was different. The one he'd been having that particular day was set on the beach, and Micky had rescued Davy from an under-current in the ocean. But in spite of the dreams, when Micky had come into the room, Davy was terrified.
The chemistry between them was strong, and when Micky was exploring his body, he didn't seem shy about it, but he did run away afterwards, and before Davy could decide what to do, he'd panicked, wondering if he should try to reciprocate. His emotions were jumbled and his thoughts contradicted themselves constantly.
Then again, Micky hadn't had very much encouragement from Davy, although... he was calling out for him in his sleep. It was all too confusing for Davy, he thought he should feel sick to his stomach, or feel like he had been demoralized, but he didn't, and that worried him even more.
He would have continued along the trail of thought that seemed to be leading him in a constant circle,
but a shout from downstairs put an end to it, for the time being.
"DAVY!" it was Mike. "Your Boss called!"
Uh oh. Davy had been working part time in the Winchester Hotel, as receptionist. He was on call most
of the time, but this was the first time anyone had rung the Pad looking for him.
Davy clambered out of the shower, throwing a brightly colored beach towel around his waist. He walked out of the bathroom, and leaned on the railing at the top of the stairs.
"What'd he say?" asked Davy, looking down at Mike, standing in the middle of the living room, with Peter still providing the background guitar music, only he had moved to the hammock.
"He said they only got one secretary on now an' they need ya ta go in sharpish cause you live the closest - he didn't gimme any hours, he jest said git there now." Mike finished delivering his message, and added: "I'd get dressed if ah were you."
"Ah, um...yeah... " Davy trailed off, his gaze drifting to Micky as he slipped in through the back door, a huge grin on his face and a candy bar in his hand. He paused when he saw Davy, trying not to look him over in the towel, and instead made eye contact for a few seconds, then broke it abruptly, flopping onto the couch. "Alright, Mike, um, if he calls again tell him I'm on me way."
"'Ello, Winchestah 'otel, 'ow can I 'elp yah?" Davy was under immense pressure at the Hotel, the phone
just didn't stop ringing. "...Hello?" Davy gulped, the line was silent. "Hello? Hello, is anyone there?" The silence remained, save a soft buzz, normal for phone calls, and soft breathing. "HELLO? I can 'ear ya breathin'!" Davy was insistent "I know yer there! Talk to me!"
"..Hiii..." a soft voice sounded on the line.
"Micky?!" Davy sounded incredulous. "What's wrong, are you okay?" Davy heard Micky swallow, and he was beginning to wonder what the point of Micky's call was.
"...Yeah... Look, I think I dialled this number by mistake, Davy, I guess I wasn't watching what I was
doing, so I'll just hang up now and see ya when ya get home, alright?"
Click. Davy wanted to stop him from hanging up, but his voice caught in his throat, and it was too late.
Micky sat staring at the telephone, he didn't even have the will to hide it in some obscure place, so
Davy would have to go hunting for it every time one of his girlfriends called. Micky knew he shouldn't have called Davy, he knew even as he was dialling the number he shouldn't have, especially when he didn't have a good reason. And even when he'd called, he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if he pretended he hadn't been intimate with Davy, that he wasn't staring at him even when he didn't mean to, that he hadn't called him at work for no reason when he knew Davy was busy, and that he wasn't counting the seconds until he got home, then maybe it would all just go away.
Micky didn't know what he was feeling towards Davy, and it was sudden, because before Davy's sex dream, Micky hadn't been attracted to him. At least, not in any way he'd noticed before...
"Micky?" Mike walked over "Hey, Micky, ya wanna practice 'I'm a Believer' some?"
"Uh, sure Mike, sure," Micky nodded, standing up. Anything to get his mind off of Davy.
Davy's head was pounding, his tongue felt like sandpaper, "No..." he moaned, the phone was ringing again, the sound drilling into his brain. Davy pulled the receiver from it's cradle and choked out "Winchester." As Davy scribbled down the message left for Mr. Chalmers, his boss. "...alright, I'll put it on his desk...yes... yes...no, I won't forget... because I won't! ... Ipromise... " Davy looked up, Mr Chalmers had just glided in the Main doors as the contact hung up.
"Hello, David," Mr Chalmers nodded to him "What are you still here for? Just close up, and go on home.
I'll give you a call if we need you again before Monday, alright?"
"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Mr. Chalmers," Davy smiled weakly, and walked sluggishly towards the door. The
headache was evolving into a nasty migraine.
Walking home didn't help Davy's headache at all, and he stumbled into the Pad just as the other three were getting ready to go to bed.
Peter rushed over to Davy, being over-attentive as usual. "Davy, are you okay?" Peter put his hand against Davy's forehead.
"I'm fine, Petah, I just have an awful headache, tha's all," Davy rubbed his head half-heartedly. "I just
wanna go ta bed,"
"Okay, I'll get you some aspirin," said Peter amicably.
Micky watched from his perch atop the stairs, making no move to go near Davy.
Mike opened the door of the bedroom Peter shared with Davy, and watched Davy collapse on his bed, and pull his pillow over his head. Peter crept into the room and put a cup of water on the bed-side cabinet with two aspirin, before slipping into his own bed.
The following morning, Peter suggested that they should go to the beach for a few hours. Mike was waist high in the ocean with Peter, chucking a beach ball to and fro with him. Davy had on a pair of his sexiest sunglasses, which he had convinced himself he was doing for the girls.
He and Micky were laying side by side, sunbathing. "Micky...?" Davy leaned on his elbows, he had spent half an hour gathering the courage to speak to the curly headed boy, and now that he had his attention, he wished he could go back in time and stop himself.
"What's up?" Micky rolled onto his side, so he was facing Davy.
"I..uh...um... we should talk," began Davy, testing the waters.
"Sure, okay, how about we discuss the views of politicians on long hair?" Micky was hoping Davy would
chicken out if he kept him on a different subject.
"No, Mick... I wanna talk about what went on yesterday."
"At ... at work? What happened at work, Davy?"
"You called for no reason," pointed out Davy, peering at him over his glasses. "Yesterday afternoon, in my bedroom when you were there."
"Uh..." Micky was blushing furiously "Uh... " he noticed Peter and Mike looking at them. "Welp, see
ya!" Micky jumped up, and tore down the beach, not even chancing a glance behind him.
Micky finally stopped running. Breathing hard, he wondered how long he could evade Davy. This had been too close, his pretend nothing had happened plan was backfiring due to Davy's insistence.
Micky turned around, to see where the others were, and something hit him square in the chest, tackling him and pinning him to the ground.
"Talk to me," panted Davy, sunglasses pushed into his hair, a light film of sweat covering him. Micky stared at him, Davy was leaning over him, and it was all together too hot.
"Um, well..." Micky averted his eyes.
"Tell me!" Davy pinned his arms "Tell me why ya did that instead of makin' fun o' me! Ya haveta tell me
cause you'll never escape othahwise!"
Micky panicked, squirming under Davy frantically. "Let me go Davy!"
"No!" Davy was as stubborn as an ox , but he was no where near as strong as one. Micky pushed him off, sending him stumbling backwards. Micky glared at Davy, the fact that the smaller Monkee jumping him like that opened a feeling of lustful longing inside of him and made him angry.
He jumped towards Davy, and before he could think what he was doing, he punched him across the jaw. Davy, caught off balance, landed hard on his back, elbows dug into the sand. Immediately, one of his hands went to his jaw, looking up at Micky like a wounded puppy.
Micky sank his teeth into his lip, he felt instantly sorry for hitting Davy, pangs of guilt filled him. It
felt worse than indigestion, and he found himself kneeling beside Davy.
"God, I'm sorry..." he reached his hand up, to Davy's face. Davy flinched, and looked away, up the beach. "Davy, I'm sorry, I panicked I didn't mean to hit you, ask me a question, I'll answer it. Please don't be mad at me." The last sentence was a soft murmur, and it was all Micky could do not to break into a huge grin as Davy turned back to face him.
"We need to talk, because I'm..." Davy paused, nervously playing with his hands "I'm really confused,
Micky, I mean the dreams and then the actual thing and the phone call... what do you want from me?"
"I don't know... I don't know why I did that... I'm sorry, I..it won't... I mean we could just forget it,
and start over." God, the hand-playing gesture was so cute... Micky snapped out of it, as suddenly as he'd slipped in to whatever 'it' was.
"Well..." Davy looked thoughtful "I think it would be best if we don't tell the others what happened,"
"Exactly," agreed Micky.
"I guess we could see how it goes," decided Davy
"We'll just pretend it didn't ...um...happen."
"Okay," Micky nodded slightly, trying not to stare into Davy's eyes.
"I mean we could just go back to-" Davy was stopped, mid sentence, by Micky's tongue in his mouth.
Davy sighed, returning the kiss almost as though he couldn't help it. He almost melted against Micky,
clambering slowly into his lap.
Micky wrapped his arms around Davy's waist, pulling him closer. They stayed like that for a long time,
each one pushing thoughts of confusion out of his mind, and enjoying the feeling of being so connected. Eventually, Davy pulled away, and whispered "What does this mean?"
"It means I have no self control, sexuality issues and can't keep my paws off of you," moaned Micky woefully, as Davy slid away from him. "And all in one day. I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't drag you into my twisted problems..."
"You're making it sound like rape," Davy's voice cracked, giving away his nerves.
"Isn't it?" asked Micky, bitterly. The thought had been weighing on his mind since the night before, but
he kept pushing it away. He didn't want to be a rapist!
"Well...I.... I didn't exactly try to stop you... did I?" Davy sensed how upset Micky was. "No, it wasn't
rape. It wasn't one-sided. Takes two ta tango, ya know."
"I can see why all those girls like you," sighed Micky, looking wistfully out to sea. Davy swallowed, but before he could prod an elaboration out of Micky, Peter sprinted over.
"You guys have been gone a LONG time!" he cried brightly, skidding into the sand between them "What's so great about over here that's not so great about over there? Mike went back to the Pad
'cause the sea water... well, he swallowed it and he felt sick, so he went back to the Pad for a while."
"Nothing, Peter," shrugged Davy "We were racing, and stopped to rest.
Micky ignored the probing look Davy gave him, and instead said "Hey, Big Pete! Race ya!"
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