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"I Met a Girl Who Sang the Blues - Part 2"
Title: I Met A Girl Who Sang The Blues
Genre/Pairing: Peter/OFC, Micky/OFC, Mike/OFC, Davy/OFCs. Gen/Rom/Com
Rating: PG-R, nothing very graphic happens
Warnings: Mild language, mild violence, suggestive themes, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I do not own the Monkees, or any of the characters from the show. I only own my OCs.
Summary: When two girls move in close to our boys, will the effect cause happiness
for all, or will every thing be torn apart?
Author's Note: This is the first Monkees fiction I wrote. As such, it is not the best thing I’ve ever written, but it remains in a special place in my heart none the less. Some of you may remember this from Monkees Fic on Livejournal.
In Which A Game of Truth Or Dare Is Played, Peter’s Feelings Are Not Resolved, Mike Has A Moment Of Complete Abandon In A Closet, and Micky Is Fascinated By Freckles
Sophie and Myrtle showed up at the apartment again just a few days later. Mike was sitting at the kitchen table with his green notebook, trying to balance the figures. Davy was on the phone with a girl named Shelly who he was trying to invite over to the apartment. Micky and Peter were watching television, but with the sound turned down so not to disturb the others.
“Great, luv, I’ll see you in a few minutes. Bye.” Davy hung up the phone and came to sit on the couch with the others, but just as he sat down, a knock came at the door.
Davy whistled. “That was fast!”
But when he opened the door, it was none other than Sophie and Myrtle. To Peter’s generous relief, and a small bit of disappointment, they were in dry clothes today. They had also brought over some cookies that Myrtle had made, which were somewhat dubious. They were green and orange with white…somethings in them. Micky thought they were fantastic, but none of the others were particularly enthused to try them.
When Shelly showed up, it was decided that a game should be played. Years later, no one was able to remember whose idea the game was, although many suspect it was Sophie. In any case, before too long, all seven of them were seated on the floor in a circle, and Micky was going to go first at Truth or Dare.
“Myrtle, truth or dare?”
“What was in those divine cookies you made?”
Myrtle blushed before answering in a mock whisper, “Food coloring and marshmallows.”
“Mike, truth or dare?”
The game continued in this vein until after an hour, people were starting to become bored (and pained). Micky, who never said truth, was wearing one of Mike’s hats and every article of clothing he owned and was rapidly turning an appalling shade of red. Sophie was still hiccupping from the entire bottle of cola she had had to drink in thirty seconds and she could only speak in innuendos for the next twenty minutes. Davy was wearing what seemed to be an entire flower garden in his hair. Mike was over in the corner, having been dared to stand on his head for thirty minutes or until he passed out, whichever came first. Peter was the only Monkee to be untouched by dares. As of yet.
It was Myrtle’s turn again. “Peter, truth or dare?”
Peter glanced around at his bandmates, who all glared at him. Apparently, the sight of Peter sitting there normally clothed, flowerless, and with his blood circulating normally made them all angry. Peter sighed, “Dare.”
Myrtle seemed to be thinking, when Sophie leaned over to her and whispered something. “What? Is that an innuendo for something I don’t get?”
Sophie laughed shook her head and whispered something else. Myrtle gasped. “No!”
“What?” Shelly had, over the course of trying to humiliate the boys as much as possible, become good friends with Myrtle and Sophie. Sophie whispered something at her, too. Shelly eyed Peter up and down. “Go for it, Myrtle!”
Myrtle groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Peter, we dare you to run outside and jump in the ocean.”
Peter felt a brief sense of relief. “Okay.”
But as he made to stand up, Shelly giggled a bit and said, “You have to leave your clothes out on the deck, though!”
There was a small commotion as Mike fell off his head and crashed into the table. “What!? No way! I am not going out there…”
Myrtle raised her hands defensively and pointed at Sophie.
“Oh, come on Peter. Seven grown ups sitting around playing truth or dare and no one is naked yet? We can’t have it. This is the last dare of the night, so this is the way it has to be.”
Myrtle looked at her roommate curiously. “There were no innuendos in that monologue.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Enough with the innuendos, Myrt. They’re hard-going.”
Groans could be heard all over the room. Peter continued to shake his head. “No, no way…”
Micky rolled his eyes. “Just do it, Peter, get it over with.”
Peter groaned and started towards the door to the balcony, but then turned around. “Can I at least wait until I get down to the beach to undress?”
It was Sophie who answered, everyone else was on their way up the stairs so they could watch from Peter and Mike’s room. “Sure, why not,” she called over her shoulder, and then winked at him.
Peter shook his head one more time, but then started out the door. As he came out on the beach, he heard a loud whoop behind him. He turned to look, and it seemed that everyone had climbed out on the roof. Davy was trying to cover Shelly’s mouth. It was starting to occur to them all that Micky had put something dubious in that ‘suicide potion’ he had concocted for her to drink.
Peter crouched in the shadow of the deck while he took off his clothes. The idea came upon him that his friends were too far away on the roof to see anything in too great detail. Maybe this wasn’t such an embarrassing moment.
Still hunched a bit in the comforting shadow, Peter looked up and down the beach to make sure no one else was out. Why anyone else would be out on the beach in the drizzling rain was beyond Peter, but he wanted to check.
He took a deep breath and sprinted faster than he thought he could run towards the ocean and dove in very ungracefully. Peter surfaced and snorted water out his nose and spluttered a bit. He could just barely hear his friends on the roof cheering, Shelly was exceptionally vocal. After a few seconds, he heard Sophie. “All right, Pete, you can come back in now!”
Peter waited in the water until his friends had started back in off the roof, Mike and Micky helping a now hysterical Shelly. He could also just hear the distant sounds of Myrtle and Sophie arguing about the definition of ‘innuendo’.
As Peter raced back to the welcome shadow, he realized he hadn’t brought a towel out with him, but someone had already laid one out for him.
Peter came back inside in time to observe the latest high jinx; Sophie had snatched up Mike’s guitar and Micky was on his drum kit and they were doing what sounded like an atrocious duet version of ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road’. Davy and Shelly were sitting at the table, Davy trying to get her to drink coffee and Shelly giggling and trying to kiss ‘his little nosy’.
It wasn’t too much longer until Davy left to drive Shelly home and he glared at Micky as he left.
“Now what are we going to do?” Mike was stretched out on the staircase, looking for all the world like a very large cat.
This detail has also been lost to the years, but it is generally agreed on that it was yet again Sophie who came up with Seven Minutes in the Closet.
It was Micky and Myrtle in first. They had the light turned on in the closet, Myrtle was perched on an old box, and Micky was on a suitcase. Neither had said very much, never mind done anything that time in the closet was supposed to be spent doing. No, they were too busy checking each other out.
Micky was quite fascinated by Myrtle. He wasn’t much for shy girls, but Myrtle was really an exception. She had been shy at first, but Micky had been reliving that half hour spent at the kitchen table, with Myrtle teaching him Gin. She wasn’t talkative, but she asked questions. Micky imagined that she had learned more about his life in those thirty minutes than his roommates had learned in months.
Myrtle had wrapped her arms around her knees, and was scrunched up on the box. Micky was observing the freckles going up her arms, never fading until they reached her chest, then they began to fade beneath the neckline of her shirt. For some reason, this fascinated him.
“Your freckles fascinate me.” Micky gasped. He hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud.
Myrtle started to laugh. ‘She really has a wonderful laugh,’ Micky thought, this time keeping his mouth shut. Myrtle glanced around, as if she had forgotten that they were alone in a closet, then stretched out her hand and put the tip of one finger on the end of Micky’s nose.
“You fascinate me.”
Micky took her hand and kissed the back of it. They both began to lean towards each other when Sophie banged on the door and started yelling “TIME! TIME! TIME!”
Next in the closet was Mike and Sophie. This time it was Sophie on the suitcase and Mike on the box. Like the couple before them, not much was said, but Sophie was watching Mike. His shoulders were sort of hunched, and he stared at the closet floor as if he were in a deep thought.
His head snapped up. “Huh?”
Sophie snorted lightly. “Got something on your mind?”
“Oh, naw, not really. I was just thinking about Thanksgiving….”
“You’re stuck in a closet with a girl for seven minutes and you think about Thanksgiving?”
Mike turned a light shade of red, but grinned ruefully. “Sorry, but it’s a big deal to me.”
Sophie nodded, then tilted her head to look at him. “The weight of the world.”
Mike looked confused. “The way you’re sitting.” Sophie began to sketch in the blank area behind Mike with her finger. “The weight of the world on your shoulders and no where to go. Sometimes the best cure for it is a bit of reckl-urmphfh….”
Sophie was unable to finish her sentence because Mike had quite abruptly leaned over the space between them and pinned Sophie to the wall behind her. The kisses were exactly what they were supposed to be; a frenzied, hot thing with no mind to speak of. Mike had too long been the one who kept caution well away from the wind and he was tired of thinking so much.
At some point, the pair slid off the wall and were now lying somewhat uncomfortably amongst the shoes and peppermints fallen from coat pockets that littered the floor. Sophie had long since taken Mike’s hat off and thrown it elsewhere. Her hands dragged through his thick silky hair, and she gently scraped her fingernails across the back of his neck. Mike moaned gently into her mouth, and then broke away from the kiss. They both pushed themselves up. Mike looked around at the floor.
“Look, I shouldn’t have launched myself at you like that…”
Sophie laughed. “No worries, Mike. If I hadn’t wanted you to do it I could’ve stopped you.”
“Oh, really?” Mike quirked an eyebrow at her and Sophie laughed again.
“Find your hat, Nesmith, it’s just about….”
Right then, Micky began banging on the door, hollering, “TIME! TIME! TIME!”
Finally, it was Sophie and Peter in the closet. Peter was fidgeting with a string of beads he had found in the living room and determinedly looking anywhere but at Sophie. He knew that if he looked at Sophie he would stare, and staring wasn’t something that was easy to get away with in a closet.
Sophie, on the other hand, was staring. She could get away with it, of course, because Peter was looking nowhere near her. Sophie was rather fascinated by Peter. She had seen a lot of things in her relatively short life and Peter’s innocence was precious to her. She felt comfortable around Peter, as if she could be completely honest with him without fear. Speaking of being completely honest…
“I didn’t look.”
Peter finally looked up from the floor at her. “You didn’t look at what?”
“When you ran across the beach….I didn’t look.”
He looked a bit surprised. “Why not?”
Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know…It just didn’t feel right.” She was looking at the floor now, trying to hide the flush spreading across her cheeks. By all means, Sophie was anything but shy or a prude, but when she was with Peter, she forgot about everything she had ever done in the past. To put it bluntly, he made her feel like a virgin again.
Since Sophie was looking fixedly at the floor, she didn’t see Peter duck his head down, too. And since Micky began banging on the door, yelling “TIME! TIME! TIME!!”, she didn’t hear Peter’s whispered response…
“I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”