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DISCLAIMER: This site is in no way affiliated with the Monkees or personal relations thereof. All fan fiction and fan art is intended for entertainment purposes only and no defamation of character is intended whatsoever. To break it down one more time: It's all just for fun, folks.
"Saved by the Bell - Part 1"
Title: Saved by the Bell P1
Pairing: Micky/Mike
Rating: NC-17
Author: Woolhat's Traveling
Mood
Author's Note: I know I'm using a lot of stretching when it comes to fictional
license. I know where they grew up etc, but I ran out of settings. So just bare with
me.
Summary: Micky befriends the new kid in school but soon discovers there is more to
him than meets the eye…
The pounding of the basketball was rhythmic and letting all
his anger out on the ball was relaxing to his irritated soul. Micky growled as he
pounded the ball harder and was even tempted to throw it through the nearest window.
Why did everyone believe that jobs and learning were so important anyway? So what
if he failed everything? Did they really matter? Not as far as he could see and he
slammed the ball harder with his fist.
"You're going to deflate that thing soon!”
Micky looked up and found Peter staring at him.
"What business is it of yours?"
Peter
just kept looking at him. Micky gave a scowl and went back to his ball, hoping the
kid would take the hint and leave. Sometimes he despised the young blond boy, purely
because he was such a freak. His family moved around a lot and now he had moved in
right next-door. When Micky raised his curly head, Peter had indeed taken the hint
and was parking his bike in the neighboring yard.
"See ya Micky," Peter gave a short
smile and entered his house.
Just then, Micky's mother appeared at the front door
and folded her arms. "Dinner's ready Micky baby," She could see her son was not in
the best of moods.
"Mom! I'm sixteen for crying out loud, I'm not a kid anymore!”
Micky growled, but left his ball anyway and stalked into the house.
~~~
Micky strolled
quickly down the road, satchel on his shoulder as he tried to avoid Peter. If he
was quick
enough, he could get to the bus before Peter came out. No such luck.
"Hey,
wait up Mick!” Peter came running across his front lawn and matched Micky's stride.
Micky
fumed but put on a sunny smile, his mom demanded that he be nice to the poor kid,
it wasn't his fault that he was 'different'.
Micky heard several laughs at his expense
when he boarded the bus; everyone finding it hilarious that he was friends with the
school idiot.
The ride was as uneventful as ever and Micky just wished that he could
get this day over with, like he did every day. When he got to school, he found that
someone had poured syrup in his locker.
"Bastards," He sighed as he tried to get some
of the goo off of his books.
"What's up guys?” Andy wandered over and leant up on
the wall next to Micky.
"Someone's trashed my locker again, that's what's fucking
up!"
"Hey cool it Dolenz, I was only asking!” Andy raised his hands in defense.
Both
Andy and Peter watched as Micky threw most of his stuff in the bin, his demeanor
quickly changing to a severe fury.
At lunch, Micky gazed around the cafeteria in
a cloud of disinterest. The jocks sat together, so did the popular girls, the brainy
kids huddled towards the corner, and everyone else seemed to just drift. He didn't
consider himself popular, but then again he wasn't unpopular either. He got on with
some of the jocks and they respected him. He had been a sports star too once, before
his stupid childhood injury began to make itself known again. He knew that it was
the rockers, the heavies on motorbikes who paraded the halls in leather jackets and
sunglasses, who had dumped the shit in his locker, but he wasn't going to pick a
fight. He'd rather clear goo out of his locker than end up looking like it. Peter
always held a worried look when they came into the room, he was often one of their
favorite jibes, and it was fun to see him squirm.
"'ello fellas," Davy smiled as
he sat down beside Micky.Davy was one of Micky's closest friends, he wasn't so much
of a freak, and he had a good sense of humor. He was British, but his parents had
died so he had to come to the USA and stay with an auntie and uncle.
"Hi Davy, what's
up?"
"Not much, failed yet another history exam, but then again, what's new?"
Micky
gave him a smile and then the silence returned.Peter was avidly revising for a biology
test he had in his next class and Andy was off in a dream.
"You know," Davy started
again, his mouth full of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, "This school should
be one of those international ones."
"What makes you say that?” Micky asked, only
half interested,
"Well, I'm from England, he's from all over.” Davy pointed at Peter,
"It's only you who comes from California," Davy laughed slightly.
"That's only two,"
Micky corrected him,
"And there's the new guy," Davy pointed to the other side of
the room.
Micky followed his finger with his eyes and saw someone he hadn't seen before.
Sitting alone was a tall young man with dark hair, just sitting in silence, more
transfixed with the tabletop before him than anything else.
"Comes from Texas apparently,"
Davy continued, "Bit of a loner, they say he's a bit...touchy."
Micky stuck out his
bottom lip in thought and gazed at the new kid. He was almost drawn to him, there
was an incredible aura, both strong and fragile at the same time, and it made the
hairs on the back of Micky's neck stand on end. He wanted to meet this guy.
"Why don't
we go and say hi?” He asked his comrades and was already on his feet.
Davy shrugged
with a 'don't mind really' look and followed suit, closely stalked by Peter who didn't
want to appear alone and vulnerable.
Micky turned up the collar of his denim jacket,
he wanted to appear as cool as possible - first impressions meant a lot to him and
he stalked over to the table where the stoic Texan sat perfectly still. The three
descended on him and sat either side, daring him to escape.
"Hi," Micky extended his
hand to shake that of his new acquaintance but instead he was greeted with two cold
staring eyes of ebony and he pulled back his arm in a quick sudden realization that
he had just landed in deep water. But Micky wasn't beaten yet. "We just came over
here to give you a nice Californian welcome.” He put on a cheerless smile.
"I've had
some of that already," The young man drawled, his accent thick as he gazed into Micky's
soul and then turned his head slightly so that all could see his recently acquired
black eye.
"Well...err," Micky didn't know what to say and merely watched as the
young man returned his eyes to the tabletop and that's when Micky noticed what he
was looking at. Engraved in the wooden surface was a pencil drawing of a guitar,
but it looked so real. There was every little detail, every little marking.
"She's
my baby," The dark haired boy continued, "Well, she was..."
Micky saw this as a perfect
opportunity for some conversation. Normally he wouldn't bother, but there was something
driving him on and he ran with it.
"Was?” He asked quietly,
"It's a long story," The
boy stood and grabbed his bag, "And I don't want to tell it," and with that, he left.
"Well
that was a waste of time," Davy shook his head and began to head back to their old
table. Micky nodded solemnly but something told him he would be talking to that boy
again and it would be sooner than he expected.
~~~
"Come on Coco for Christ's sake,
I don't wanna hang round this place a moment longer!” Micky hollered after his sister
as she hung back talking with friends. Micky angrily danced from foot to foot, eager
to get home. Just then the group of girls stopped and their gaze all fell in the
same direction. Micky followed their line of view and found the young Texan come
into view, stalking through the kids, sticking out like a sore thumb. It seems that
he was getting everyone's attention today. Micky watched as he met a tall woman with
auburn hair and the two them wandered around a corner and out of sight.
"Micky!” Micky
looked up and found his sister waiting impatiently for him, the same expressions
he was pulling only a few minutes earlier. He jogged up to join her and they both
headed home.
~~~
In the next two days, Micky continued to notice the Texan in various
places around the school but didn't speak to him again. In fact, he didn't see the
new kid speak at all, he just tried his best to hide in the background, but for some
reason, he just stood out.
That was until, one lunchtime, Micky happened upon the
young man sunning himself in the corner of the schoolyard. Micky was alone and strolled
casually over, falling straight down beside the new kid uninvited. "Hi," He smiled,
and was merely rewarded with an opening of those piercing eyes.
"Hey.” There was
a hushed response after a few moments of silence.Micky twiddled his thumbs and looked
for something to talk about.
"So, what's you name?” He asked gently.
"Robert...Michael,"
"Well, which one?"
"Michael."
"Oh, sure. My first name's George but my second name's
Michael too, people call me Micky."
"Hello Micky."
"Where ya from?"
"Texas,"
"I gathered,
where abouts?"
"Houston originally, then we moved to Dallas, and then...here.” He
gazed around wistfully, a deep sadness in his oil slick eyes.
"You got a girlfriend?"
"No.
You?"
"You kidding, I got loads.” Micky waved his hands around until he saw that Michael
was not impressed, "Nah, I haven't got any.” It took him a lot to admit that. The
two sat in silence for a while until Micky spoke again. "So, what do you like to
do?"
"Play music."
"Oh yeah, your baby...you never explained Michael,"
"Call me Mike,
and no, I don't really wanna talk about it,"
"Why not?"
"I just don't, It's...painful."
Micky
saw the sadness thicken and knew he had wandered into a depressing stage in Mike's
life. But still there was that gnawing; driving him on and he wanted, desperately
to be able to help this young man.
"You know, if you wanna talk, or just hang out,
I'm here." He offered a smile.
"I appreciate that," Mike made eye contact and nodded
slightly.
The two watched the shadows on the ground for the rest of the lunch break
and Micky felt, as he stood to return to class, that a bond had formed. But the feeling
was short lived as he saw, in the corner of his eye, the rockers move into view,
leering as usual and Micky noticed Mike's pale face turn and his own pools of deep
cocoa flashed. Trouble was inevitable.
