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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 11"
Title: Saved by the Bell P11
Pairing: Micky/Mike
Rating: NC-17
Author: Woolhat's Traveling
Mood
Micky felt his heart restart and it began to drum loudly in his ears. He couldn't
comprehend what was happening. There was too much all at once. He felt like he was
about to explode, but with what? So many emotions were running through him. He was
relieved and overwhelmed to see Mike again, he was excited, he was nervous, he was
still upset about his father and most of all he felt bitter. All of these emotions
were battling for the passage to his mouth, forcing their way to his trembling lips.
Before he knew what on earth was happening, he exploded. "What the fuck are you doing
here?!" He screamed in a blind rage.
Mike instinctively took a step back timidly
and held up his hands in defence. "I thought.I.." He staggered for words before finally
giving up.
Micky looked at him, but he was so full of anger that he didn't see him
at all. He stood, fists clenching and unclenching, steam literally coming out of
his ears. So much anger had built up that he didn't even know existed. How dare he
show up now? After not hearing a word for three years? How dare he?
Mike gazed wistfully
at him for a few more seconds, before gathering himself up woefully and turning to
the door.
"I was foolish to think I could pick up where we left off." He murmured,
emotion masked by a stony look, "I won't bother you again." And then he was gone.
Micky stood stoically for a few moments before feeling a cold hand touch his shoulder.
"Are you ok?" Peter asked warmly, but Micky didn't answer. If he did he knew that
Peter would guess that he was about to burst into a flood of tears.
He had been looking
at his ticket for another life. If he stayed with Mike, all the excitement would
return, and all the love with it. And what had he done? He'd thrown him out, lost
him.
"I'm going out." Micky turned and told Peter firmly, "Don't wait up."
**************************
Mike
was quite a way down the road when Micky saw him. The curly youth ran as fast as
his wobbly legs could carry him, his heart pounding harder than ever. As he ran,
he seemed to lose a lot of the bitterness, it seemed to drip from him and leave a
trail as he caught up to the swift Texan.
"Wait!" He shouted at the top of his lungs
and saw Mike stop and turn, the age-old pain tinting his cocoa eyes.
Micky caught
up with him and immediately had to double over to catch his breath. He latched on
to Mike's arm quickly to prevent him going anywhere while he sucked in as much oxygen
as possible.
"You...can't.go." He wheezed, finally straightening up and grasping
eye contact again.
"You didn't want me, you made that plain enough." Mike whispered
coldly, pulling his arm free and trudging off.
Micky knew the score. Mike wouldn't
grovel for Micky's forgiveness, in fact, he was the one who had to do the begging
now.
"Mike! I'm sorry.really.I was just.in shock, it's been tough for me."
"Oh yeah?
Well, me too shotgun." Mike growled, slowly becoming bitterer. The Forces do that
to a guy.
"Mike.My dad died last week." Micky forced it out, and watched as Mike
halted and slowly turned around once more. He gave his trademark drawn out sigh and
quickly looked to the floor.
"Hell, I'm sorry Mick, I.I didn't know."
"That's ok.I'll
forgive you, if you forgive me?"
"Sure." A little smile tempted Mike's face, but
was quickly withdrawn.
"So.Do you wanna go for a drink or something?"
"Fine by me."
"Roxy's?"
"Sure."
*********************
Roxy's was always the same, with its typical
50's red and white fake leather seats, and Coca-Cola adverts. The waitresses rolled
round on Roller Skates, but the place was peacefully empty, all the people being
driven off by the rain.
Micky sipped his milkshake slowly, remembering the last time
he was here, when Mike said he was leaving.
Things were so much different then. Mike
had changed so much. Then he was loving and quick to show it, his face was more open.
Now he was closed in, his face as unreadable as a brick wall. He didn't even attempt
to touch Micky in any way. He just sat with his arms folded gently, giving Micky
an intense and unnerving gaze.
He had changed physically too. Now he was even taller,
yet thinner. He wore more sophisticated clothing, namely button down shirts and smart
trousers. He was altogether darker, his eyes were two piercing orbs of midnight,
his hair like charcoal. Maybe they had always been like that and Micky hadn't noticed,
never thought he would have to rely on just a memory.
"So, where are you staying?"
Micky tried desperately to make conversation.
"Oh, down on the beach, it was cheap
and reminded me of better days." Mike looked wistfully out of the window.
"Do I know
it?"
"You should do, it was where I fucked you for the first time."
Micky choked
on his drink and watched a small smirk cross Mike's face. A look of small satisfaction.
"That old beach house? Is it still standing?" Micky tried to act as if he had forgotten
about it, but in truth, he often thought about it. How could he possibly not remember
that old place?
"Yeah, I rent it from some old guy with an attitude problem, using
the money I got from the force till I can get a job." Mike took a sip from his black
coffee and looked back out of the window, sighing gently.
"Sounds great." Micky tried
to give a sunshine smile but he felt it fall lopsided and just looked half-hearted.
The conversation dwindled, and Micky fiddled with his hands nervously. There was
one question left, one that burnt his tongue with its urgency.
"Do you still love
me?" Micky murmured, playing with his straw.
Mike looked up at him with a blank stare.
Micky felt like he was standing in court with the imperial judge glaring down at
him, guilty of emotional recklessness, guilty as charged. Micky stared back, trying
desperately to read what Mike was thinking. A pain gnawed at him, telling him that
Mike didn't care for him that way anymore, he had just popped by because he was bored.
Micky knew he couldn't handle that. Mike's stare continued, but it seemed to soften
slightly at the edges. Ever so slowly, his tense shoulders loosened into a more slouched
position and he reached under the table, grasping Micky's hand for a second.
"I said
'forever', didn't I?"
With that, a broad smile crossed Micky's face and he squeezed
Mike's hand back. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he knew that he couldn't
prevent it from showing on his face. He sat there for a moment, hoping his good vibes
could travel through his hands and send magic tingles up Mike's arm and as he watched
the Texan's face, he was sure he saw the eyes glint like they used to, and a smile,
small yet priceless, made its way to his mouth and Mike seemed to let it evolve into
a gentle, almost bashful grin.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Micky laughed,
jumping up and dragging Mike towards the door, throwing down some money for the bill
in his flight.
***********************
Mike hadn't had the house long and much of
it was still the same. There was a lot of dust everywhere, and the Texan appeared
to be living out of his suitcase.
Micky turned to him with a fiendish grin on his
face. Before he could say anything, Mike had locked lips with him, never pulling
away, not even as they struggled to get upstairs. Their hands worked feverously,
tugging the clothing from each other's bodies, trying to rekindle something that
they had left behind for so long.
Micky's brain was in overdrive once again, just
like the first time he did this. He couldn't remember why he had ever been bitter,
yet he had also forced himself to forget what the love was like. He needed the warmth
and loyalty just as much as the loving touch and there was only one person who had
ever given him that - Mike.
Micky leant up against the wall, naked and ready, while
Mike teased him with his velvety mouth. Micky allowed a moan to escape his lips as
Mike worked his art, but this was even better than before. Mike's hands massaged
Micky's lower back and ass, while his tongue darted here and there, driving Micky
to the very edge, before pushing him back again.
Micky's fingers locked with Mike's
hair and he kept a tight grasp as the emotions forced his eyes closed, forced his
heart to pound so quickly that he couldn't even count the beats. "Please." Micky
whimpered, his legs almost giving way. No one else had ever done this to him, had
pushed him this far, and he was loving every minute of it. Finally Mike held a small
smile and gave one last suck, hurling Micky over the edge into the smouldering abyss
of the aftermath.
Micky's knees sagged and he slowly slid down to join Mike on the
floor. His eyes were still blissfully closed as Mike issued kisses all over his face
and neck, whispering assorted words of love. Micky thought about how good that had
all felt, and it was only just the beginning. Without thinking, a thought that had
passed through his brain managed to make it to his lips before he could stop it.
"You learnt a lot in the air force." Micky murmured and the kisses suddenly stopped.
Micky suddenly realised what he had said and he opened his eyes to peer at Mike.
The Texan was looking down, supposedly concentrating on his hands that were fidgeting
in his lap. The sadness was there again, it seemed to gnaw at him and Micky could
only curse himself for being such a bastard. Of course Mike hadn't wanted to go,
he was just an innocent soul in the whole affair. Micky wondered what Mike would
do, he'd been hurt so many times by so many people and now Micky himself had joined
in. The poor guy didn't stand a chance when the whole world was firing at him from
all sides. Micky swallowed hard and found his mouth had gone as dry as sandpaper.
"I'm.sorry." Micky murmured, and Mike's eyes raised to meet his. "I hated it there."
He whispered, his head slowly bowing until it rested on Micky's shoulder, "I never
want to do anything like that ever again. Never. No one will ever do that to me again."
The vibrations of his voice seemed to tingle through Micky's bones and despite the
sombre atmosphere that had descended on them, he found the sensations strangely erotic.
Micky leant his head against Mike's, almost nursing him, and slowly grasped a limp
ivory hand that was lying beside his leg.
"I won't let them get you again," Micky
promised, bringing the hand up to his lips to kiss it, "They won't take you away
from me" he stuck out his chin with the determination of his words and he felt Mike
relax against him ever so slightly.
Micky wondered how many people ever got this
close to Mike. The Texan was distant from everyone, always had been, and yet now
they shared such intimacy, not just physically, but emotionally too. They had travelled
the disastrous journey of puberty together and had come out of it the other side.
They had triumphed and they were all the stronger for it. 'What doesn't kill you
only makes you stronger' Dad used to say, and with that thought Micky wondered what
his Dad would have thought of this scene - his only son lying naked next to a young
Air Force drop out who had probably seen some of the worst bits of life in his tender
years. What would Dad think about them sitting there on the dusty floor, huddled
together like refugees, their future a blurry haze of fate? A small smile crossed
Micky's face and he slowly wrapped an arm around Mike's shoulders. He was surprised
Mike allowed him, but it almost seemed as if Mike had fallen asleep, his head nestled
in Micky's chest. Soft breaths blew against Micky's naked skin, sending little shivers
up his arms and down his spine. Dad was different from Mike's father, who would probably
have hung them both by now. Dad was a guy who was open minded and didn't really care
what they got up to, as long as they were safe and happy.
And Micky couldn't be happier.
He knew he was safe here, snuggling with Mike, letting the troubled world float by.
It didn't concern them, so why bother? Mike's hair brushed against his skin slightly
and his head raised, his eyes sought Micky's and they had a mellowed tinge to them.
Micky held his breath. What he was seeing was the real Mike looking at him, no walls,
no masks, just the genuine guy and Micky felt pride and hope tug at his heart. A
little smile, almost cheeky enough to rival Micky's own, crossed the Texan's lips
and stayed there, before a little laugh followed.
"What's funny?" Micky asked, trying
to look serious.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about us. About that disgusting pie
I cooked for you when you came over. Remember?"
"How could I forget? That was the
most revolting thing I ever ate!" Micky laughed too and they both chuckled stupidly
at each other for a few moments, just like schoolboys again.
"And remember when you
had to pretend you'd been asleep? And I hid beneath the bed when your mom came in?
It was in this very room."
Mike gazed around and Micky thought that the smile on
his lover's face was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Mike turned to Micky and wrapped
his arms around his neck, moving in for a deep and meaningful kiss. Fireworks went
off in Micky's head and they held each other for a while, not daring to break the
kiss in case all of this was just a dream. Finally Mike pulled away, mainly through
lack of breath.
"Don't we have some unfinished business?" He joked, looking towards
the bed.
***********************
It took a while for Micky to get used to the sensations
again; it had been three long years. But Mike was gentle, as soft and caring as he
ever was. Micky's mind was spinning like a washing machine, churning hundreds of
thoughts over and over in his head. This would never end, he wouldn't let it. Even
if he and Mike were driven out and would have to live in a trailer in the desert
somewhere, he would do it - gladly, especially if it meant being with Mike.
Micky
clung on to those elegant, pale shoulders as Mike made them one once again. Micky's
head rolled back and a pristine sweat began to form on his brow as all the emotions
hit him full force. His mouth opened but no sound would come out, the feelings were
too intense. Mike's heavy breathing sounded loud and clear in Micky's ears, as the
Texan regained what was his, what had always been his. Micky opened his eyes for
a moment and saw Mike's were closed, his face drawn into a look of intense concentration.
Micky wondered how he had managed to live without this for three years, how did he
survive without Mike?
The sensations grew quicker and a loud moan pushed past Micky's
lips. He was dizzy with emotion and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.Mike
groaned and that seemed to give Micky the last shove and he came violently, dragging
his lover with him.
The two lay there, just breathing, just living. Micky felt his
eyes grow heavy and he leant over to give Mike's forehead just one last kiss before
he succumbed to wistful slumber.
************************************
When Micky awoke,
all he could hear were the churning waves. Light streamed in through the bedroom
window and he blinked for a few seconds. He quickly realised that he was stiff as
a board and it hurt when he moved, but there was a certain feeling of tranquillity
that also washed over him and a broad smile crossed his lips. He felt his curls move
of their own accord and found that a soft breeze was blowing them against his skin.
Slowly he moved ever so gently and found Mike's marble-like face lying beside his,
his breath was the soft wind that blew in his hair. Micky wondered if he had ever
seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He wished they could lay there endlessly,
just in the gentle solitude and peacefulness of this room. Micky looked up and down
the length of Mike's body and noticed that the cover had slipped down his thin frame
and was now lying across his hips. The curly youth reached down and pulled it back
up, gently placing it over Mike's shoulders, before leaning down and giving his lover
a little peck on the cheek.
Micky lay his head down beside Mike's once again and
wrapped his arms over Mike's hip.
"Don't worry, I'll look after you," He whispered,
"I love you so much."
Mike moved slightly and he nuzzled closer to Micky, muttering
something in his sleep. Whatever he was dreaming, Micky hoped he would be part of
it. This was there moment, a new beginning and he loved the craziness of their situation.
They had no direction, no money except Mike's pitiful savings from the Force, but
they had each other, and that was what really mattered.
The sun spread a dappled
quilt across Micky's skin and he snuggled down against Mike, arms still tightly wrapped
around him. Slowly he lowered his voice to little more than a quiet hum and murmured
a personal prayer,
"Together...always."
