Copyright (c) Naked Persimmon 2010-11. All Rights Reserved.
Home
Fanfiction
Fan Art
Gallery
Inspiration Station
Rugulator Room
Tumblr
Links
Contact Us
Feedback for the author...
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 10"
Title: Saved by the Bell P10
Pairing: Micky/Mike
Rating: NC-17
Author: Woolhat's Traveling
Mood
She had a fiendish smile on her face as she nibbled lightly at his ear. He tried
desperately to stop his heart from pounding but he was too nervous. Instead, he attempted
to cover it up with silly jokes, but she didn't appear to be listening. She was only
after one thing. Micky felt her hands grab at his collar and soon he was lying with
her in the sand, the dampness quickly seeping into his shirt. He fumbled eagerly
with her blouse, quickly prizing it away before attacking her flesh with his hot
tongue. It all happened so quickly, right there in the sand as the sun disappeared
behind the sea, sending out its last few dying rays across the beach and reflecting
slightly in the old beach house windows as the building watched intently, a relic.Micky
thought that when he lost his virginity, it would be to a fellow virgin, but he knew
full well that this girl was far from that. He knew that when he first laid eyes
on her, her face layered with years of clumsy make up. She wasn't his ideal choice,
but he knew he needed experience, and she was the best one to get that from. When
it was all over, he lay back in the sand, breathing heavily, and watched her dress
quickly. There was no loving exchange of words, no sweet luscious kisses, just sex
and nothing else.
She was the first in a long succession, fleeting fancies that he
knew for no longer than 24 hours max before moving on. He sure as hell wasn't going
to become attached to anyone again. What the hell for? So that they can leave you?
Forget you? Why put yourself through the pain, when you can get what you want with
the least amount of effort?
It was one night, when he met Peter on the way home from
one of his conquests, that everything took a chaotic new turn. The blond saw him
and walked with him to their street, asking him about all the usual trash.
"How have
you been?" Peter asked pleasantly.
"Never better." Micky beamed, hands thrust deeply
in his pockets.
"How's the job?"
"Great. I must say Pete, that was very nice of you
to get me in there man, everything's great."
"I'm glad to here it Mick. Although."
Peter trailed off as he looked up at the stars wistfully for a moment.
"Although
what?" Micky asked impatiently, a suspicious expression crossing his features.
"Well,
I saw Coco the other day, she was pretty upset you know."
"Ah, yeah...that." Micky
avoided Peter's eye contact and became entranced with the pavement beneath their
feet, hoping he could avoid another lecture.
"Micky, you really should stop and think
you know. You're becoming just like Davy. I mean, what were you thinking?"
"Hey,
it wasn't just my fault! She wanted it just as much as I did!"
"I don't want to know
the details, all I know is you slept with your sister's best friend and I think that
was just fucking cruel!"
Micky stopped and looked at Peter, trying to stop his mouth
from unhinging. He had never heard Peter talk to him like that before, and by the
look in the blonde's eyes, Micky could tell he meant it.
"Hey, what's your problem?
Or are you just jealous?" Micky growled.
"I don't envy you; I pity you! You're going
to end up alone Micky, all alone if you don't start treating people with a bit of
respect!"
"Why should I? It's not like people give me any respect!"
"You don't deserve
it!"
Micky bit down on his lip and gave his best glare. At that moment, he hated
Peter, hated him for being such a know-it- all, for always treating him like an imbecilic
kid.
Peter began to look up at the stars again, obviously regretting his outburst
but refusing to retract it. Micky deserved to be taught a lesson.
"Look!" Peter ran
his hand through his hair, quickly making eye contact before looking away again,
"I don't know why I'm having this conversation with you, I mean, how can I expect
you to know what love and respect are? You've never been in love."
"Yes I have!"
Micky shouted, and then immediately regretted it.
"Oh yeah? With who?" Peter glared
with a look of doubt evident in his tawny eyes.
"It doesn't matter," Micky began
to continue walking, picking up a quick pace.
"Who was it Micky?" Peter pressed,
quickly catching up with him.
"None of your business, ok?" Micky didn't dare look
at Peter as he hurried along the darkened sidewalk.
"Who the hell was it? Tell me!"
Micky didn't say anything, keeping his head down as he kept going - one more block.
"Micky! Tell me, who was it? Tell me!"
"It was Mike ok?!" Micky turned and screamed.
There was silence for a long while as the words fell heavily to the floor. The whole
street held it's breath and Micky swallowed hard. What had he done?
Peter's eyes
were wide with surprise and confusion and he didn't say anything for a long while.
In the distance, Micky could even hear the churning of the waves on the beach, and
he wished he could be there, or anywhere just as long as he was as far away from
here as possible. Slowly he began to turn and took another step before his arm was
viciously grabbed and he was spun around to face Peter's staring eyes.
"Just answer
me one thing." Peter murmured, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. Micky
nodded and the blond continued. "Did you sleep with him?"
Micky's face held an expression
of pure and utter spite and coldness. He shrugged off Peter's grip and gave a deep,
heart felt sigh. "Yes...many times, and they were the best moments in my life."With
that, he turned on his heels and continued down the street, silently cursing his
carelessness.Peter was left alone in the darkness, his perception of everything he
thought Micky was lay shattered, scattered carelessly on the ground for the sea breeze
to destroy.
*************************
Micky's eighteenth came and went, along with
his nineteenth, but he found he wasn't paying any attention any more. After that
night with Peter, all he wanted to do was lay low, so he gave up the chicks and took
to concentrating on work. He lost interest in most things and lay about the house
on his days off, getting under his mother's feet.
Micky dated a couple of girls,
but he didn't have any feelings that told him he was in love. There was no buzz,
no adrenalin and he didn't find himself jumping out of bed just to be with them.
He felt like he had fallen into an abyss, he was just mindlessly falling, and there
was no end in sight.
Peter was still his adopted older brother, always trying to
be 'helpful'. He helped Micky with his job, helped him meet nice girls, helped him
buy a car, in fact, he was a puppeteer and Micky only wished he had the strength
or even the motivation to cut the strings. With friends like that, who needs enemies,
he always told himself.
He was living in status symbol land, living the average young
suburban life and he hated it with a vengeance. Maybe he could go traveling? He and
Davy could cut to Europe, or England. He was told that the English girls were really
something, and London was the most happening place around. Nah, he could never afford
it. He knew he should be thankful. Micky knew that soon he would encounter a heavy
dose of misery, it was only a matter of when.
*********************************
The
rain came in heavy thuds as it pounded on top of his head, chilling him to the bone.
It made the scene before him seem even more pitiful. As he continued staring right
ahead, a female arm entangled with his and held him close. Looking down he saw Coco's
panda-like eyes staring back at him.
"You ok?" She whispered and Micky gave a solemn
nod, lying as usual. "Mom's going back to the house now, do you wanna come?"
"Give
me just a few more minutes." Micky ached as he whispered.
Coco nodded and headed
off to help her mother get home, as well keeping as watchful eye on her sisters.
Micky could look after himself; he was a man now.
Micky kept staring at the hole
in the ground with a certain amount of dread. He didn't want to be buried in mud
on a rainy October afternoon. He wondered where he would like to go - probably burial
at sea or something, where he could float endlessly until he was eaten by a shark,
helping nature continue its cycle. He didn't want to be buried in a hole and he hated
the thought that he was doing it to his father. He was a good man; that was for sure.
A kind gentle man.
"Goodbye dad." Micky whispered as he turned to leave.
The rain
didn't let up for the rest of the week. Micky spent endless days rooting through
old belongings of his father's, often sitting up all night. Mom and the girls were
at Aunt Jesse's so it was just him...and Peter. The blond would sit in the old armchair
and watch Micky intently, sometimes offering useless advice, sometimes just blending
into the background.
Micky knew he should be grateful to the blond, Peter had helped
him graduate from high school and get his first job. Peter had always been there
and was a real good friend, if only Micky believed that. Sometimes Micky felt like
Peter was only helping him to make himself look good. Maybe.
It was three days since
the funeral and there was still a whole attic of stuff to go through, there just
seemed to be endless amounts of it. His mother didn't want to have anything to do
with it and she was gradually just becoming a shell of what she was, thank goodness
for the girls. If it wasn't for his sisters, his mother would have nothing to live
for, she certainly didn't live for him anymore, he was too old for her to dote over.
"Nineteen and I've already lost my dad, it's not fair is it big Peter?"
"Life's not
fair Micky, but you'll do him proud, trust me."
'Yeah, but will I do me proud?' Micky
thought to himself. When his father had become ill, all Micky could do was sit and
watch him waste away, he felt so useless.Just then there was a knock at the front
door. Peter got up, stretching his legs and headed out into the hallway. It was probably
another distant relative coming to ask Micky if he needed anyone to cook for him.
He didn't need anyone's help, he kept telling himself.
Micky cocked his head to see
if he could guess who it was, but he could only hear silence. Finally Peter wandered
slowly back in, his face that of anger and slight bewilderment.
"It's for you." He
growled, slumping in the armchair again and crossing his arms irritably.
Micky gave
a confused expression and staggered to his feet. What had got Peter so worked up?
It wasn't like him to get pissed off over nothing. Micky dug his hands in his pockets
and strode out into the hallway.
"Yeah?" He asked as he looked up.
That was when
his feet caught and he stumbled to a halt. He blinked a couple of times to make sure
he wasn't seeing things. He wasn't. That posture was the same, that hair and those
eyes.
"Hello Mick," Mike smiled.
