~ A Note to the Reader: This is my first little excursion into fan fiction, and it has a simple, episode- type plot. I'd really like to hear from anybody who reads it- tell me what you think! Suggestions! Honestly, that would be a big help. You can e-mail me. Thanks!
Morning dawns on Beechwood, tinging the horizon with color and flooding the living room of No. 1334. Peter is up, scrambling eggs and singing. Mike is in the shower. Micky is still burrowed as deeply as possible under the covers and Davy is out of the shower and shaving.
Peter sets his Waffles a la Peter on the table along with the eggs and without turning around yells, "HEY GUYS! BREAKFAST!!"
Mike winces behind him. "How many times do I have to tell ya, Pete-" But Peter's dimples are too bright to reprimand, especially at this hour.
Micky swings himself off the staircase and into his chair, grinning. "Who cooked?" he asked, already shoveling waffles into his mouth.
"Pete did," Mike told him ominously.
"It's okay, I have health insurance," Micky said, grinning at Peter, who stuck his tongue out at him. Davy arrived, dapper as always, whistling as he strolled into the living room.
"How'd the date go, Casanova?" Micky asked wickedly. Davy sighed as he poured a glass of orange juice.
"You know, the usual. Whatever." Mike rolled his eyes heavenward and Peter chuckled.
"It's just that I'm tired of the whole dating scene and all," Davy said, wiping his orange mustache away.
"That's probably because you've dated every girl in the whole dating scene," Mike said drily.
They finished breakfast and he stretched lazily. "Okay, guys, let's practice."
Micky was already behind the drums as the others picked up their instruments and started off with "Zilch" to warm up. Micky lost it on purpose and dissolved iuto a fit of giggles, earning a glare from Mike, who makes the others finish. They did "Valleri", getting through it perfectly, until the guitar solo was interrrupted by pounding at the door.
"I know that sound well," said Davy.
"Babbit!" said Micky.
They all cast baleful looks at the money jar, which contained a nickel and a guitar pick.
Mike opened the door slowly and Babbit rushed in, looking.... happy.
He was smiling.
"Boys, boys!" he said brightly, with a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I have a surprise for you," he continued. "My daughter is home from the University, that's the University of New York, and I think to myself, I say, What about those fine boys downstairs? Wouldn't they love a date with my Charlene!"
He beamed at them and Mike opened his mouth but nothing came out. Micky, with another glance at the money jar, jumped up and strode over to Babbit. "Sir, I personally would be enthralled to treat your daughter to an evening-"
"Micky!" Mike hissed. "What are you doing, man, she probably looks like a dog!"
"What was that, Nesmith?"
"I- I said, tonight's a bad night because it's hard to- to see in the, ah, fog," Mike finished lamely.
Babbit waved the two away, rolling his eyes.
"Not you, Dolenz, I wouldn't want my daughter out running around with some-" he eyed Micky distastefully. "Oddball. My daughter needs a clean-cut, nice looking boy." And just as Davy is snickering at Micky, a hand clamps down on his shoulder.
Davy was ready at 8:00, scowling at his three roomates who hadn't stopped teasing him all day.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he grumbled as he washed a coffee cup and glared at the door.
"Look, man, it's our landlord. If she wants to stay out all night dancing, or go bowling, or makes you stand on your head holding a poodle while smoking a cigarette, YOU DO IT!" Mike said pointedly. Davy shoots him the bird, which only causes more hysterics, then jumps when the doorbell rings.
"I'll get it," Peter offers.
And there on the doorstep is Babbit, with an arm around the most beautiful girl they have ever laid eyes on.
'Holy shit," Davy says softly, nearly dropping the coffee cup.
She had a thick, dark flip, pale full lips and sparkling blue eyes under thick black lashes.
"Boys, this is my daughter Charlene," Babbit said proudly. "Get a move on, Jones," he added before disappearing. Davy is still staring at Charlene and Peter has to nudge him foward.
"I-I'm Davy," he said shyly, and she smiles as they leave.
"Did what I think just happened, happen?" Mike asked after a stunned silence.
"Davy just stuttered in front of a girl," Peter said in amazement.
"That was too weird," Micky said, shaking his head.
Micky was drinking coffee and looking at the comics when Mike came down, lured out of bed by the smell of pancakes. Peter dramatically tried to flip one and looked confused when it didn't come down. Micky burst into hysterics and even Mike cracked a smile at Peter's expression. Peter shrugs.
"It'll come down eventually."
Mike drains his coffee and looks around. "Anybody seen Davy?"
"I thought maybe he went for a swim or something," Micky replied and as if on cue the door opened and Davy, rumpled but cheerful, came in looking very much the leopard that swallowed the canary.
"DAVY! Where have you been!" Mike bellowed.
"Yeah, as if you didn't know," Micky said with a wicked grin that was quickly quelled by a look from Mike.
Mike was thinking of the Wrath of Babbit, which could be descending upon them any time now.
"Davy," he said in a controlled voice, "Have you been with Charlene since 8:00 last night?"
Davy hasn't heard any of this. He's lying on the couch, staring dreamily at the ceiling.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"She's so beautiful, Mike."
"Uh-oh," three voices said in unison.
"No, no." Davy sat up and waved his hands. "I'm serious, this isn't just Girl # 9046. This is real, I swear."
Mike snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Man, guys," Micky said a few nights later, "This is Davy's seventh date with Charlene this week!"
"And it's only Wednsday," Peter added.
"No kidding. He's here for practice and then they're together all day....."
Mike glanced at his watch. "It's almost one. We could talk to him when he gets back, that's assuming he gets back..." Mike still had visions of Babbit murdering Davy and burying him in the garden.
The door clicks as Davy saunters in, whistling. His face hasn't lost that dreamy look, the look of love, the mark of joy.. Mike decides he looks like a fool and clears his throat.
"Ahem! Davy, could you-" "Hang on a sec," he calls from the bedroom. Minutes later he's back, grinning (Like an idiot, Mike thinks) "I've got some news."
For once everything is absolutely silent in the Pad. Mike's jaw dropped nearly to his knees. Micky stared openmouthed and Peter dropped the guitar he was holding and didn't even bother to pick it up.
"You- you're what!" Mike says, finding his voice with difficulty.
"Look, guys. I know it might be difficult at first, but marriage is the natural step and we can work it out! I'm not leaving the band, just-"
"Just us." Mike was still staring at him. "You're really serious about this thing then? You're leaving?"
"I'm sorry, guys, but-"
"You're leaving us for a chick?" Even Peter looked disgusted.
"A chick you've known less than a week?"
"This had to happen sooner or later! We can't spend the rest of our lives in a bachelor shack !"
" Better than running off with some girl you think you're in love with just because you're tired of dating, " Micky shot back. Davy looked pissed off. "Thanks for the congratulations, guys, don't get too mushy or anything."
"Well, excuse us for not being thrilled about having to train a new percussionist and vocalist!" snapped Mike.
Davy worked his jaw for a second, then grabbed his jacket and swiftly left, slamming the door.
"Man," said Micky.
"Whoa," said Peter.
"Shit, " said Mike.
They waited until early in the morning, wondering what to do, when Micky zonked out in mid sentence and Mike had to drag him off to bed. But Peter couldn't sleep. He went outside onto the deck and gazed at the stars.
Peter wasn't dense. He knew that Davy's leaving would be the end, even if Davy didn't. Still, he wasn't angry. Davy had every right to leave if he chose, and he thought he was doing the right thing. But eventualities- what happens when one of us gets married? When it's fifteen years down the road and we're still here?- had never been discussed. Theirs was an easy, laidback lifestyle that had always been enough.
He yawned and glanced idly at his watch. 4:00 a.m. !
Peter turned to go in and then stopped cold when he heard yelling in the driveway. Going to investigate, he found Davy being shaken nearly senseless a very tall, very buff man.
"W-w-what t-the-" Davy's teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't speak.
Peter heard another voice and saw Charlene, looking coy and bored.
"Johnny baby, it's not his fault. I missed you," she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and the shaking relented somewhat.
Davy looked at her heartbrokenly. "You were using me?"
"Well, Daddy doesn't know about Johnny," she replied smoothly. "And we did have a lovely time together-" she was interupted by a menacing growl from Johnny- " but that's it," she finished hastily. She smiled winningly at Johnny.
He hesitated, then turned and landed a heavy right hook on Davy before grabbing Charlene's hand and striding off. Peter winced.
"That'll teach you not to mess with my woman!" Johnny called over a beefy shoulder.
Davy was still slumping to the ground when Peter caught him, hoisted him over his shoulder, and headed for the Pad. Micky and Mike met him at the door, wide eyed. "We heard yelling," Mike said, eyeing the unconcious Davy.
"Holy shit," said Micky. "What happened to him?"
"He had a run in with Johnny," Peter explained as Mike pressed an ice pack to Davy's rapidly blackening jaw.
"Who's Johnny?" demanded Micky.
"He must've hit him pretty hard," Mike observed. "Still not awake."
Micky's solution to this was to pour a bowl of water over Davy's head and collapse in hysterics when the Englishman's eyes fluttered open. He blinked and gingerly felt the edge of his jaw, grimacing.
"You're lucky it's not broken," Mike told him.
"So what happened exactly?" Micky asked interestedly.
Davy groaned and rolled over. "We were walking downtown, talking about"-he winced-"the engagment and all, and she says, Look, baby, there's something I have to tell you, and then this big chap roars up on a motorcycle- get me some whiskey or something, will ya Pete?"
"You're underage," Peter said solemnly.
"PETAH! GET ME SOME DAMN WHISKEY!"
"All right, all right," said Peter, scrambling for the liquor cabinet.
"And so he pulls her up on the motorcycle and the crazy bloke chases me all the way back to the Pad, and then Charlene turns out to be a real-"
"Bitch?" supplied Micky.
"Right, and then Johnny-" he groaned, and the others nodded sympathetically.
"And what I said before, guys-"
"Forgotten. Come on, y'all," said Mike. "It's late enough as it is and we've got a gig tomorrow. Assuming Casanova here is semiconcious," he added with a glance at the empty bottle of whiskey.
They dragged Davy into bed and Peter chuckled as he rummaged through his sheets for Mr. Bean. Then he glanced at his friend and was heartbroken as he watched a tear slide gently down Davy's cheek.
The next morning was cheerful enough. Mike whistled "Papa Gene's Blues" as he scrambled eggs and Micky banged out his version of "Wipeout" on the drums, howling "Wipeout!!" at random points throughout the song.
Peter picked out a new song on his guitar, looking up as Davy staggered in, wearing sunglasses to shield his bloodshot eyes. His hair was wildly disheveled and for once in his life he didn't care.
"Water," he gasped.
Mike handed him a glass and when he was finished he pushed the shades up, winced because the slightest movement was making his head spin and said,"Look, mates, I owe you an apology. I acted like a bloody fool and I'm sorry." He looked at them hopefully and was relieved to be met by three very wide grins.
"So how long until the next girl?" Mike asked, leaning back with his harmonica.
"At least two days," Micky said.
And Davy laughed with them.
So you read it? Thanks! E-mail me and lemme know whatcha think!!