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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.


"You’re So Good to Me"



Title: You’re So Good To Me
Author: Moondreams
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mike/Peter
Genre: Slash
Warnings: Language, kissing, lots of mush (I tried to curtail it but to no avail, I’m afraid!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Monkees and make no claim that this ever really happened. It is purely the result of an overactive imagination.

Summary: A day in the life of Mike and Peter on the England tour.
Author’s Note: My first non-smut fic, this is all about the heart folks! Have to say I’m a little worried that it’s too gushy, but I just wanted to look a little deeper into how they feel about each other and how Phyllis impacts their relationship a little more. Hope you like!

Peter woke from the slight sound he wasn’t even sure he’d heard. His eyes struggled to adjust in the dark as his hand searched for his watch. This was his third night in the hotel room and he still couldn’t get to grips with the layout.

The sound came again, more impatient this time, a knock at the door. He kicked the cover off and walked briskly to the door in his draw string pajama bottoms, no top. He opened the door a crack, then further when he saw Michael leaning on the doorway, head down and with a pained look on his face. He was still fully dressed. Without saying a word, he moved out of the doorway allowing Mike entrance into the room which he accepted without hesitation. As Peter closed the door quietly, he turned to find Mike furiously pacing up and down by the bed.

“What time is it?”

“3am.” Mike said, still pacing, staring at the floor.

“Not dealing with the jet lag too well, are ya?”

“I just...there’s something missing from ‘Sweet Young Thing’, it don’t sound right, y’know? I can’t think what it is, it’s drivin’ me nuts.” Peter sighed and looked sympathetically at his friend. Over the last few days, Peter had discovered another side of Mike that endeared him to him even more. As much as Mike loved playing and singing, stick a screaming crowd in front of him and he became a wreck. You wouldn’t know it from his performance, then he was a pro, but at rehearsals and backstage he became more obsessive than usual. He couldn’t seem to shut down and Peter felt bad for him.

Since they’d landed in England, they’d all been out shopping and sightseeing...all except Mike who painstakingly made sure everything was perfect. Peter didn’t understand it, he always thought everything sounded great, Mike in particular, but he accepted it and tried to help him out where possible.

“I dunno, man. I think it sounds great. The crowds dig it. You should really get some sleep-“ But Mike ignored him.

“And there’s something goin’ on with ‘Mary, Mary’ too. I think we need to rehearse that some more.” Peter pulled a face, knowing how sick Micky was of rehearsing that song. “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong...”

Mike stopped his pacing, slumping down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Pete. I know this ain’t your problem. You just seem to be the only one puttin’ up with my sorry ass at the moment.” Peter pushed himself away from the door, moving to sit cross-legged in front of Mike. He looked up through the thick ebony hair but couldn’t make eye contact.

“Why are you doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?”

“Making this a problem. We’re in England, man! You should be enjoying yourself, not holing yourself up in the stadium working out problems that aren’t there.”

“They are there, I can hear them.”

“Well, then, you’re the only one. Most of the time I don’t even think they can hear us over the screaming. Why can’t you just enjoy it?”

“Cos I’m scared, god dammit!” His head flew up, making eye contact with the slightly taken aback blond. Mike sighed, trying to mellow his exterior. “All I ever wanted to do was perform in front of screaming fans and now I have that, all I can think is how they’re all judgin’ me, waiting for me to fail.” Peter looked at him in amazement. Mike had such a hang up on being a failure, it came close to consuming him at times. Time like now. Peter took both of Mike’s hands in his, rubbing them affectionately.

“If those people out there can’t see how amazing, talented and alarmingly sexy you are, who the hell gives a shit about their opinion?” Mike laughed, knocking his forehead against Peter’s who smiled gently.

“You’re right. Screw ‘em. I’m not gonna let then ruin this for me. Thanks, Pete. Jesus, why in the hell do you put up with me?”

“Hmm...cos I love you.” The simple statement made Mike swallow hard as Peter brushed the hair out of his face, lifting himself up to sweep Mike into a deep, passionate kiss. It took him totally off guard but he welcomed it, humming at the back of his throat. He pulled Peter up so they were both perched on the edge of the bed, diving his tongue into Peter’s mouth while running his hands over Peter’s exposed torso. Peter’s breath caught in his throat at the touch. It was different from Mike’s usual touch, it was gentle, sensual, there was no motive. He could tell that all Mike wanted was to be close, be affectionate and that just made Peter kiss him even harder.

Mike broke the kiss, giving him one last peck on the lips before scooting onto the bed, lying out flat, staring at the ceiling. Peter moved to lay beside him, staring at the same spot. They stayed like that for several minutes.

“You should try and get out tomorrow, see some of the groovy stuff they got here before we gotta head back.”

“I think Phyllis’d like some of the shopping, she’s been stayin’ in a lot cos of me...”

“Oh. Yeah, she’d probably love that.” Mike cursed himself for mentioning it, he knew how awkward it made Peter feel when he mentioned Phyllis.

“You should come with us.”

“No, y’know it’s...I don’t think. You’d have a better time just the two of you.” Peter turned away from Mike, horrified at the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. He hated how selfish he could be sometimes. He knew damn well that Phyllis had more of a right to spend time with Mike than he did and it was unfair of him to expect Mike to constantly have to choose between the two. It was just that, shameful as it was, when they were filming and recording, he’d forget about Phyllis altogether and things would be perfect. He hated being reminded that he was potentially destroying a family, a family he’d grown to care about.

Against his will, the tears began to fall more freely now, his shoulders shaking slightly. A wave of grief struck Mike when he saw him, knowing exactly what had upset him. Unbeknownst to Peter, Mike had heard him crying before and it usually coincided with a visit from Phyllis or a mention of her name. Mike hated to see this gentle soul so wracked with guilt but he simply had no solution. He too turned on his side, wrapping his long arms around Peter, pulling him close and snuggling into him. He softly kissed the freckled shoulder in front of him, manoeuvring his hand to stroke the sandy hair. The soothing movements eased the tears and Peter began to drift off to sleep again.

Once Mike felt Peter’s heart beat slow and his breathing settle down indicating sleep, he leant in further, hovering over his ear. “I love you.” He said, barely audible and kissed the back of his head. Unseen by Mike, Peter’s mouth turned up at the corners a little before he gave himself up to the sleep he so desperately needed.


“OW! What the-?” Mike flailed his arms aimlessly before placing a hand on the spot on his head that had just been struck. As he turned, squinting from the morning light, he saw Micky standing over him holding a pillow, no doubt the source of the blow, and wearing a stern expression.

“What the hell, Mike? Thought you were gonna be careful.” Mike stared at Micky, still half asleep trying to digest his words. “I just bumped into Phyllis. Asked where you were. I sent her to Davy to stall her, figuring you’d be here so you better get the hell out. Now.” He hit Mike again with the pillow, leaving it on his face making Mike push it off onto the floor. He frowned, turning to look at the figure lying half naked beside him, memories of the early morning hours flooding back. His eyes widened as he practically leapt out of the bed.

“Shit!” He tried to tidy himself up, flattening down his hair with his palm. “How do I look?”

“Like you slept in your clothes.”

“Shit!” Peter stirred at the commotion.

“What’s happening? Mick?”

“Hey Peter, sorry man. Gotta steal Mike from ya.”

“Mm, kay. Make sure he has a good day, he deserves it...” He still had his eyes closed and sounded half asleep so didn’t realise that Mike was still in the room. Mike gripped the door frame, staring at the sleeping beauty, not wanting to leave.

“C’mon, man. It’s for the best.” Micky’s voice had dropped the attitude but maintained its urgency.

Is it?
The thought flitted across Mike’s mind. He wasn’t even sure what it meant but it unsettled him. He frowned before tearing his eyes away and walked back to his own room. Micky looked after him and then back at Peter with a sigh.


Now wearing a fresh set of clothes, Mike quietly munched on some toast while flicking through a British newspaper.

“I’ve been looking for you! Where ya been?” Mike looked up into those bright eyes. Those same eyes he was having difficulty meeting lately.

“I woke up early, thought I’d go for a walk. Didn’t wanna wake ya.” Phyllis smiled, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. Suddenly, Micky bounced into view at the doorway of their room followed by a pretty blond in a yellow dress.

“Oh, good. Ya found him. We better make a move, ya ready?”

“Where we goin’?” Mike enquired, not really feeling up to going anywhere.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you, buster. I was talkin’ to the lady.” He said in his faux-Cagney voice. “You’ve got that...thing, remember?” Mike had no idea what Micky was up to but he hadn’t been given a reason to doubt him so far, so he just nodded slowly.


“So Sammy suggested we take Phyllis shopping with us.”

“That okay?” Phyllis had picked up on Mike’s bewildered look.

“Sure! Yeah, you deserve an actual vacation, babe. You shouldn’t be stuck in here with me the whole time. Go, have fun. Buy loads o’ stuff we don’t need.” She kissed him again and he reciprocated this time. Phyllis walked off with Sammy, grabbing her jacket on the way, leaving Micky alone with Mike.

“What are ya doin’, man?” Mike asked more in wonder than any indignation. Micky shrugged light heartedly.

“Somebody told me to make sure you had a good day. Figured they probably deserved one too.” Mike stared at Micky for a few moments in amazement. They were truly lucky to have someone as thoughtful as him on their side.

“Thanks Micky. Really.”

“Nah, it’s nothin’. Sammy wanted a girlfriend to shop with anyway. Guess I’m just too much man for her.” He said, jokingly showing off his imaginary muscles. Mike laughed, shoving him out of the door, hand on his forehead.

“Get the hell outta here, jackass.” He said good-naturedly, watching as Micky ran after the two women. In a sudden burst of excitement, Mike grabbed his own jacket before practically skipping down the corridor to Peter’s room. He knocked briskly on the door. No answer. He knocked louder. Still no answer. His heart sank, realising he must’ve gone out already.

“There’s no-one home, Michael.” The softly spoken voice behind him still managed to startled him. He spun round to look into that cheeky, heart-melting face. “What’s up? I told you to go out, didn’t I?” He asked as he opened the door to his room, they both shuffled inside. Peter was amused by Mike’s bizarrely erratic behaviour.

“I’m spending the day with you.” He said, eyes flashing. The look gave Peter butterflies, but he tried to steady them, not wanting to get excited over something that wasn’t likely to actually happen.

“No, man. What about the guys? Phyllis?” Mike vigorously shook his head.

“Davy’s meeting up with his sister, remember? Micky’s gone out with that Samantha chick and they took Phyllis with them.” Peter’s eyes widened before a wicked smile played across his face. He stepped closer to Mike, closing the space between them, hands slipping around his slim waist.

“Mmm, so what did you have in mind?” He asked, teasingly, his eyes boring into Mike’s invitingly. Normally, that look would have had Mike at Peter’s mercy but he was too set on his own plans of the day so he remained unfazed.

“I wanna go out. I wanna see the groovy things you were talkin’ about.” Peter’s heart leapt into his throat, preventing him from speaking straight away. Over the months they’d been together, and before that even, they hadn’t really hung out, just the two of them. Peter could think of nothing better.

“Really?” He questioned, still wanting to make absolutely sure this wasn’t just some wonderful dream.“Sure, why not?” Michael shrugged, his tone taking on an air of indifference. But his eyes couldn’t lie, Peter could see he was just as thrilled by the prospect as he was. Peter smiled brightly, grabbing Mike authoritatively by the arm.

“Well we better move it cos there’s a lot to see and we’ve only got about...5 hours until we’ve gotta be back for the afternoon show.”


It was perfect. They went to Carnaby Street, Hyde Park, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace before just aimlessly walking around. The two of them on their own, without fan favourite Davy and without Mike’s wool hat, didn’t attract too much attention and they couldn’t have been more grateful. After a while, they realised they were totally lost and revelled in the feeling. They found a small cafe where they wound up staying for close to two hours just talking. Talking about music, life, the band...anything that came to mind. They laughed, they philosophised and ultimately just enjoyed each other’s company.

Peter listened intently to the fascinating man sat in front of him. There was no doubt that Mike could always stimulate Peter physically but what he loved more was how he never failed to stimulate him mentally, the way he would talk about music. Peter thought deep down that Mike was too good to be in a pop group, he was on a whole other level. He had so much vision and he was being boxed in by the media machine. He would have been greatly amused had he known that, minutes earlier, Mike had been thinking the exact same thing. Mike marvelled at Peter’s ability to play almost any instrument and felt he was being curtailed by The Monkees.

“Oh, shit!” Mike’s exclamation brought Peter out of his reverie. “It’s 3, show’s at 5. We better get back.” They got up from their table, grabbing their jackets and leaving a more than generous tip having not quite gotten used to English money. They quickly realised the disadvantages of being so completely lost. Eventually they managed to grab a cab, heading straight to the arena.


As they strolled back stage, still deep in discussion, they were greeted by a group of exasperated looks.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?!” Davy’s question was directed at Mike. Then they both realised that all the frustration was aimed at Mike.
Man, he never gets a break... Peter thought. “You’ve practically been livin’ in ‘ere since we arrived and on our last day you bugger off!?” Mike was often good at making excuses, especially to Davy, but all thoughts escaped him with such a big audience.

“I swung by to check on him and he was looking pretty pissed off so I thought I’d drag him outside for a break. I didn’t realise it was so late, my fault.” Mike beamed on the inside as Peter defended him.

“That was a very nice thing to do, Peter.” The voice immediately knotted Peter’s stomach. Phyllis sidled up next to Mike, grasping his hand tightly. “Takin’ good care o’ my man.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. Peter wanted to look away, in fact he wanted the ground to swallow him up right there but he kept watching.
Your man... It resonated in his mind as he let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He wasn’t angry, upset or hurt, just suddenly full of the realisation that Mike would always be her man, that’s that way it should be. But Peter could still enjoy the conversations, she couldn’t take that away from him.

“Say, uh, how about we get on with some rehearsals, huh?” Micky suddenly piped up, picking up on the awkward silence.

“No.” Everyone’s attention returned to Mike, even Peter’s who frowned slightly. “Forget it, we got it down. If we rehearse it too much we’ll lose sight of why we’re doin’ it in the first place. Sound check only. Agreed?” Everyone was more than happy to go along with it, they were all rehearsed out. Peter failed miserably to conceal his wide grin which Mike couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“That means we got an hour? Wanna grab a coffee?” Phyllis asked Mike as everyone began to dissipate. Mike looked sideways to Peter although not as subtly as he would have liked as Phyllis picked up on it. “Peter, you’re more than welcome to join us.” She added brightly with nothing but sincerity. Peter gave her a smile that Mike noticed bore a tinge of sadness.

“Oh, no really. I’m fine...I gotta, to go do something.” He said, feebly. Mike widened his eyes, trying his hand at a telepathic conversation.
You sure you don’t want to? Peter shook his head, followed by a sharp upward nod. No, I’m fine, honestly. You go. And he was fine, he felt no bitterness towards them, how could he? This was just how it was going to be. I can live with that a part of him thought as he watched the two of them walk off together. As Mike’s hand slid comfortably around her waist, a softer, more honest voice went through his head...But I really don’t want to.


As the screaming fans began to pour into the arena, Mike’s nerves began to spike. What had he been thinking, skipping rehearsals? Now he was going to forget lyrics, mess up chords, miss cues...He began pacing again, practicing Sunny Girlfriend on his guitar and repeatedly screwing up due to his sweaty palms. Peter watched him from under his bangs while strumming his bass. He was watching him with the same kind of a worry a parent might have for a child about to perform in a talent show that meant the world to them.

“Time to get changed, fellas!” A woman yelled as she stormed past their dressing room door. Micky ran after her, followed by Davy and Peter. When Peter realised he wasn’t being followed, he doubled back to find Mike just standing there, clutching his guitar.


“I can’t. I’m gonna screw it up, I know it. I haven’t had time!”

“Holy fucking shit, Michael!” Peter finally snapped. Mike’s head shot up, staring at his friend, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What planet are you on? I’m sick of this bullshit, alright? You may not have any confidence in your ability but I have enough for the both of us. Most of these songs are yours, they came from here,” he poked rather sharply at Mike’s chest, “They mean something to you. You just gotta remember why you wrote them, why you sing and play. Forget about what you’re doing and just do it! You’re a natural at this Mike, so do what comes naturally...dammit.” Peter added the extra curse for emphasis, trying to exude the forceful attitude he’d lost partway through his speech. He also realised it probably didn’t help that he was gently caressing Mike’s arm so he quickly removed it, pushing his chest out.

He’d done it again. Mike stared back at Peter with something that resembled wonderment. How was it that when he looked into those eyes, those honest, confident eyes, he felt like he could take on the world? He gently brushed some of the silky blond hair out of Peter’s face, stroking his cheek. Peter swallowed hard, his resolve quickly crumbling as Mike lured him forward into a light kiss.

When he felt Peter begin to melt under his touch, he instinctively opened his mouth wider, deepening the kiss.
Well, I think I made my point. Peter thought as he surrendered to that mouth, kissing back slowly but forcefully, tongue delving into Mike’s mouth making him moan.

A loud crash made them automatically break apart, suddenly remembering where they were and where they were supposed to be. Their breathing still ragged, they made each other look presentable, flattening down tousled hair and Mike snuck in another quick kiss on Peter’s forehead.

“How do you always know what to say?” Mike whispered but Peter just shrugged before dragging him to the wardrobe department to get ready for the show.


And what a show it was! Peter was absolutely blown away, in fact they all were. They sounded amazing, the stage practically buzzed with energy. For the first time ever, Mike was actually on level with Micky never missing a beat and barrelling up and down the stage.

During Sweet Young Thing, Peter almost fumbled his bass line as Mike looked over at him fleetingly. In that brief moment, Peter realised something. Mike was singing to him, for him and it filled him with such immense pride that he stepped up his playing to another level.

Peter watched him power through his solo spot from backstage wondering where all the energy was coming from, it had to be pure adrenalin by now. By the time they got to Steppin’ Stone, their closing number, they were all high on the audiences responses and each other’s spirit. It was the best rendition so far, all of them giving it that extra punch. As the reverberation settled and the lights dimmed, they all looked at each other in ecstatic disbelief. They ran off the stage, still humming with the dynamism.

“Holy shit! That was some set, man! Wow, I dunno how we’re gonna top that for tonight’s show, I am beat.” Micky said, hands shaking from his enthusiastic drumming.

“We’ll manage, Mick.” Was all Mike said, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve and trying to get some air into his lungs which was suddenly hampered by Davy slapping him on the back.

“Fantastic job, mate! Whatever got into you today, you should do it more often.” As Davy strode off with Micky, Mike looked to Peter.

“You were right.”

“Always am.” He said, playfully. “Man, you were all over the place! I’ve never seen you so animated. You sir, need to bring some of
that into the bedroom.” Peter pulled Mike roughly into him, allowing him to feel just how much his display on stage had aroused him. Mike groaned roughly into his ear. “But that’ll have to wait.” He said teasingly, pulling away again as he began to walk off. “We got another crowd to wow yet.”

“Peter...” Mike’s voice was faint, Peter couldn’t help but feel a little cruel.

“Well, we might be able to work something out real quick-“ He heard a heavy thud behind him, making him turn round. Instead of the tall Texan, eyes filled with lust that he expected to see, he was faced with a lifeless figure sprawled across the floor. Every muscle in his body tensed as the colour drained from his face. The tightening of his throat made it hard for him to form words all of a sudden.

“M-Mike?” He managed to stammer. Quickly finding the use of his legs again, he ran back falling to his knees, not caring how much it hurt. He turned the man over but in his panic, still couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Out of the corner of his vision, he spotted a figure. As he looked up, he was filled with a brief sense of relief.

“Phyllis!” He choked out. She looked down at them and reacted the same way Peter suspected he had.

“God! What-is he-? I’ll go get help!”

“No! You stay here with him, I’ll go find someone.” In a slight daze, Phyllis did as she was told, propping Mike up in her lap.

Minutes later, Peter came back with some folks from the Red Cross armed with oxygen. Micky and Davy had caught wind of the commotion and hurried to their aid. Phyllis still clung to Mike as Peter crouched at his other side while the medics set up the oxygen supply. After several tense moments, Mike noticeably began to take deep breaths, regaining consciousness. The crowd around him appeared to let out a unanimous breath.

“What happened?” Phyllis asked, talking to the medics but not taking her eyes off Mike.

“I’d go with simple exhaustion. Lack of fluids, sudden shortage of blood supply to the brain. I suggest getting some water bottles back stage.”

“On it.” Micky said, slipping away from the crowd.

Phyllis smiled down at her husband, stroking his hair as he grabbed her other hand. She then looked up at Peter, giving him a bigger smile which he returned. He suddenly felt a hand grip around his own, looking down he noticed it was Michael’s although he had barely moved it, going unnoticed by the others.

Peter couldn’t help but frown at the bizarre situation but looking at Phyllis again, he came to a conclusion. They were both in love with two very different men. She loved the Texas boy, the family man, the man Peter had never met and would never have access to. Peter was in love with the musician, the poet, the man Phyllis only saw the outer layer of. And they were both loved wholly and completely by these two different sides. That he
could live with, he thought as he squeezed the hand back.

For Pete's Sake Take a Giant Step