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It’s far too early in the morning and Mike’s alarm is going off.
His face scrunches up for a moment in disgust before he remembers why there’s not much light in his room yet and he forces his eyes to open. Blue tinted darkness meets him and through it his attention is drawn to the side where Micky is groaning and rolling over at the noise, pulling his pillow over his head in feeble attempts to stop the shrieking. Mike sighs softly and forces himself to sit up.
The alarm clock is stopped and Micky’s lump of a body physically deflates in relief. Mike wishes he could see his face, just to look at his peaceful expression in the pale light of dawn and have it convince him to let Micky stay in bed. Maybe it would convince him to go back to sleep too and let them all stay in the peace of their home.
Mike figures it’s probably for the best he can’t.
He sighs heavily as he slides his legs out of bed. A minute passes of him staring at the floor before he's forcing himself up and across the room.
“Micky,” he whispers, placing a hand on his shoulder and sinking a knee into his mattress. “Micky, c’mon we gotta get up babe,”
Micky groans again and rolls over once more, pillow still firmly shielding himself from the world. Mike pulls it gently from his weak sleepy grasp but replaces it quickly with his hand threading through Micky’s curls when he begins to whine. The touch soothes him but the soft scratch of Mike’s nails on his scalp was definitely waking him up. He shifts, blinks squinty eyes at Mike, and then smiles.
“Hi babe,” he rasps, eyes closing again as he relaxes in Mike’s presence. Mike snorts.
“C’mon, we gotta get up,” Micky’s smile is wiped away in favor of another groan. “Sit up or somethin’ so I know you won’t fall back asleep on me.”
Mike’s hand slips from his hair and Micky whines again but seems to do as told a moment later as he begins to shift around. Mike finds himself staring for a moment, fond, before he pushes himself up and heads for the door.
He knew when they took it that this gig was entirely too far away. The place was a few hours drive and they were scheduled to perform midday instead of sometime in the evening like they were used to. Thinking about it too hard had made Mike decide they needed to get up at 6:30 in the morning to make sure they had enough time to get ready, pack the car, and leave with extra time to drive, just in case there was traffic or they got lost, and set up.
It felt cruel, especially when Micky had looked so warm and comfortable in bed, but they needed the money and they had agreed to pay well. Mike just hoped they had enough money for gas on the way there.
His feet had dragged him down the spiral staircase and he was now standing in front of the stove heating up Davy’s kettle. He ran a hand through his messed up fluffy hair as he watched it struggle to boil. Once he decided that he’d probably fall asleep standing up like a horse if he kept staring, he moved to grab a mug. Instant coffee powder came next and then he was back at the stove, standing with mug in hand now.
Half formed melodies flitted through his mind, overlapping and wispy, until the steam of boiling water in front of his spaced out view brought him back to earth. He shut off the flame, filled his cup, and then leaned back against the counter. Tendrils of regret were starting to seep into his mind but he tried to ignore them in favor of braving the hot liquid in his mug.
There was a quiet creak upstairs, and then the phone was ringing.
Mike jumped, immediately thankful his coffee didn’t slosh everywhere, and rushed to grab the receiver off the hook before the shrill sound could be the unfortunate thing to wake up his other partners.
“Hello?” he cringed at the thick, tired accent of his voice.
“Hello, is this the Monkees line?” a man replied on the other end, sounding much more awake than Mike felt.
“Yeah,” Mike cleared his throat. “Yes, this is Mike.”
“Oh good,” the man said and Mike distantly realized, with all of the shit they get into all the time, he should really be asking who's on the other side before disclosing his name. “Look, I’m sorry to call so early but I was really hoping to reach you before you left.”
“‘S okay.”
“This is Douglas from the Paradise Hotel.” Ah. “I’m really sorry to say we have to cancel your show today.”
“Oh?”
The man had resumed babbling and Mike was already trying very hard to focus but it got increasingly more difficult to do so when warm hands slid around his waist.
“Yes, I’m sorry. A fire broke out in the kitchen overnight somehow and we need to shut down temporarily to have everything fixed.”
“Oh that’s terrible, I’m sorry to hear it.”
He glanced over his shoulder when pressure built on it. Micky’s mop of curly hair met him, his forehead drilling into Mike’s trapezius as his arms slid more firmly around his waist.
“Yes, well thankfully it was a small fire so not much is harmed but we still need to follow our safety protocols to deal with it.”
“Of course.”
“We’re truly sorry to cancel on you at the last minute, especially with so far a drive. Have you left yet?”
“Uh,” Mike glances at the bandstand still full of instruments and equipment. “We were just about to.”
“Oh dear, we’re sorry for the inconvenience. We’ll mail you a compensation check.”
If Mike wasn’t awake before, he sure was now.
“What? Oh you don’t have to do that.”
“No, we insist. Everyone was really looking forward to your performance here, myself included, and it’s only fair to compensate you for a cancelled show.”
Mike was speechless.
“And we hope you’ll reschedule with us for sometime soon in the near future. Perhaps with more time, I can also accommodate you and your band a room to stay in so you don’t have to do so much driving all in one day.”
“Yes, of course, we’d be happy to. Thank you.”
Micky’s hold around him grew a little tighter. Grounding.
“Oh it’s no problem. We’re just sorry for the inconvenience! We’ll contact you about rescheduling once the renovations have been completed, alright?”
“Okay,”
“Good. Now you and your boys have a good day and take care of yourselves. You’ll hear from us soon.”
“Sounds good, sir. Thank you.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
The phone settled back into its place with a quiet click. Mike was back to staring.
“Another gig?” Micky asks, muffled, from his place attempting to melt into Mike’s back behind him.
“No, they cancelled.” Mike smiles at the whispered ‘oh thank god’ Micky breathes into his back. “Said there was a fire. Said he’ll send us a check anyways and call to reschedule soon.”
“Really?” Micky’s head finally picks up from his shoulder and Mike turns his head to meet his eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathes, disbelieving, and offers a smile at the amazed look in Micky’s sleepy eyes. “So we can stay home today.”
“Oh thank god,” Micky repeats, louder this time, and unwraps himself from Mike to take his hand instead. “C’mon.”
Micky drags Mike towards the downstairs bedroom and quietly cracks the door open. The same dull blue hue of the early morning was filling this room though here it was broken up by barely there streaks of pink and orange from Peter’s beaded curtain hanging over the fabric one as the sun slowly grew in intensity. Peter and Davy were asleep in their respective beds, curled up and cozy, and Mike couldn’t help but drink in the warmth in the air.
Micky wasted no time in dropping Mike’s hand to shuffle over to Peter’s bed. He pulled back the blankets and slipped in next to him, tucking them both into a pocket of warmth. Peter made a small noise, the movement waking him up some, but it didn’t even look like he had opened his eyes before he was snuggling close to Micky. It took only a minute for them to wrap each other up, melding into one mess of limbs, before they settled again. Peter had his face pressed into the warmth of Micky’s neck who had one arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulder and the other hand threaded through his hair, and Mike could tell their legs were already tangled as much as they could possibly get them.
By the time it took Mike to silently shut the door behind him, it looked like Micky was fully asleep again.
He smiled, watching them melt into one another for a moment, before making his way over to Davy.
The boy was curled almost into a ball in his bed, silky brown hair spilling over his pillow. Mike followed Micky’s lead and pulled back Davy’s blankets to slip in beside him. Instead of laying down though, he sat with his back against the frame, cradling his still warm cup of coffee as he watched Davy sleep.
It wasn’t long before he couldn’t resist stroking through Davy’s hair anymore. The boy stirred at the touch.
“Mm,” he groaned, blinking his doe eyes barely open. “Mike?”
“Go back to sleep, babe,”
Davy sighed and settled again but just for a moment before he was trying to sit up, blinking harder with a furrow to his brow.
“Don’t we have to…” he started, scrunching his face up as he rubbed at an eye. “We have to go do the show.”
“They cancelled, baby,” Mike whispered, leaning forward to kiss his head. “We can stay home now.”
Davy blinked at him, confused, but when he found only warmth and truth in Mike’s eyes, he relaxed.
“Oh thank god.”
Mike couldn’t help but laugh softly.
“That’s exactly what Micky said.”
“Well, he was right.” Davy murmured as he slid back down into his bed, scooting closer to Mike this time. He tossed a leg over Mike’s shin and wrapped his arms around his hips, pressing his face into his hipbone as he settled back into sleep. Mike dropped a hand down to thread through Davy’s hair and watched fondly as the boy melted against him.
He sat there, barely sipping at his coffee, for only a few more minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oh, fuck it, let go Davy,” he huffed, setting the mug down on Davy’s bedside table before gently pushing at his partner. Davy let go reluctantly with a sleepy little noise, shuffling back feeling rejected.
Mike wasted no time in sliding himself into his bed properly, settling back into laying down before grabbing Davy by the waist under the blankets and pulling him into his chest. Davy went willingly, shuffling closer still and pressing himself flush against Mike. Their legs tangled too as Davy wrapped one arm around Mike’s neck, burying his face there, as the other hand clenched the fabric of Mike’s shirt into a fist. Mike was suddenly very grateful he hadn’t gotten dressed first. His own arms found their home looped around Davy’s waist and up his back, holding their bodies securely together.
Mike could feel Davy slip right back to sleep as soon as they settled, reveling in how comfortable and lax he was as they fit together. He watched him for a moment before his gaze slid to his other two partners only a few feet away. They hadn’t moved at all since their initial rearranging and all Mike could really see was Micky’s peaceful expression half buried in Peter’s silky golden hair.
He smiled to himself, let his eyes fall shut, and coaxed himself back to sleep in the warmth of Davy’s embrace.
A few days later, a fifty dollar check came in the mail, much to everyone's delight.
“We’re so good, we don’t even have to play to get paid!” Micky had said with a giant grin on his face.