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"Dare to See the Truth"

Title: Dare to See the Truth
Author: Lucy
Rating: R.
Pairing: Torksmith!
Genre: Slash.
Warnings: Sexuality and language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward their sexualities.
Summary: A simple game of truth or dare turns into... something else.
Author's Note: I know, truth or dare, it's a total cliche, but, well, I wrote it. So... here you go. This is based on show!Monkees, but they're a bit more rough-edged than the versions we see on the show.


"Truth."

Micky grinned widely and Mike groaned.

"Can I switch to dare?" he asked, taking a swallow of his beer. "I ain't nearly drunk enough to be playin' this game..." he grumbled as he shifted to rest his head on the chair behind him.

"Sure," Micky said agreeably, still grinning in that manic way.

"Why don't I think this'll be any better?" Mike asked nobody in particular.

"Because so far every dare he's given has been to kiss something," Peter replied, an uncharacteristic glare on his face. Perhaps that was because he had just been made to kiss Mr. Schneider.

Micky pouted slightly.

"Well, it's entertaining."

"You're easily amused," Mike sniped. "Well, get on with it. What do I have to kiss? The refrigerator, your socks, a cactus, what?"

Micky's eyes narrowed at the other three Monkees. Call him uncreative, will they...?

"Peter," he smirked.

"What, Micky?" Peter responded, confused.

"Nooo," Micky said, smiling happily as the dawning comprehension on Mike's face. "I dare you, Mike, to kiss Peter. On the mouth, with tongue, right now."

Davy hooted with laughter at the looks on Mike and Peter's face, falling over with the force of his giggles.

Peter and Mike looked at each other awkwardly.

"Mick, it's not really fair to involve other people in my dare..." Mike stated, glancing back at Micky uncertainly.

"Now hold on, you dared me to moon Mr. Babbitt!" Davy was indignant as he managed to right himself.

"Yeah, but I didn't dare you to make out with him!" Mike hissed, blushing slightly.

"Well, that was you," Micky interjected. "It's my turn now, and if you don't start doing the two tongue tango with our dear Peter, you forfeit, my friend." He was practically clapping his hands in glee.

"Don't I have any say in this?" Peter asked uncertainly.

"No." Mike and Micky answered in unison.

Mike narrowed his eyes. "You know I don't forfeit."

"Then you'd better get to it."

Mike thought for a moment, the buzz he had going in his brain impeding this process.

"Fine," he finally said curtly, beckoning to Peter. "C'mere, Pete."

Peter looked over at Mike, a surprised look on his face.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Mike grumbled. "Got to. My pride won't let me just forfeit."

Peter shrugged, slinking off of his chair and slide-scooting over the floor to sit cross-legged across from Mike. He looked unsure.

"What now?"

Mike inhaled and let the breath out slowly. "Now, we... just do it, I guess."

"Okay," Peter replied, but still, neither moved.

"Sometime today?"

"Shut up, Micky," the two muttered in unison.

"Okay, we're gonna do this," Mike spoke more confidently than he felt.

"Right," Peter responded.

Mike moved forward slightly before returning to his original position. Peter shifted nervously. Micky huffed impatiently. Davy leaned his head in his hand, staring intently at the uncomfortable duo.

"Um... alright, let's just do this. It doesn't mean anything. We'll just get it over with, that's all." Mike stated.

"Gotcha," Peter nodded.

Mike leaned in and Peter met him halfway.

Their lips collided softly and Mike's first thought was 'Oh. Okay. It's like kissing a chick. 'Cept it's Peter. Oh, God, okay, just... don't think about it being Peter. It's not Peter. It's a chick. I'm kissin' a chick.'

Peter's first thought was 'Wow. Does Mike use chapstick?'

"I said tongue."

Mike pulled back and glared.

"Can you give me a minute to adjust to the fact that I'm frenchin' my best friend before I go suckin' his face off, please and thank you?"

Micky grinned salaciously.

"Very well. Carry on." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Mike rolled his eyes before looking back at Peter. He sighed. Now they'd have to start the whole awkward process all over again.

Peter solved this problem by leaning forward and pressing a slightly opened mouth to Mike's.

Mike mentally shrugged. 'Might as well get it over with,' he thought as he slid his tongue into Peter's mouth.

'Whoa,' Mike thought as Peter's tongue slid against his, 'Peter's been holding out on us. Who's he been kissing to get this good at it?'

Mike unconsciously brought a hand up to Peter's neck, pressing him closer. Peter scooted forward, shifting to rest his weight on his knees and tilting his head for a better angle. Both had forgotten their audience in Micky and Davy.

Peter had moved to straddle Mike's lap, loosely wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck.

Mike pressed harder, screw his reservations, because good goddamn, Peter was a good kisser, and it just seemed to stop mattering that he was a fellow, that he was Peter.

Mike made a low noise in the back of his throat, running a hand up Peter's back to tangle in his hair, and he felt Peter's hand run under the back of his shirt, stroking the soft, warm skin there.

Micky and Davy stared at their roommates in silence.

"Think I should tell them they've filled the requirements of the dare?" Micky finally whispered to Davy out of the corner of his mouth.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Davy replied in the same low voice, looking at his friend incredulously.

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

They both settled back in to watch the show.

Mike shivered as Peter's hand moved around to his front, messily unbuttoning his shirt before shoving it off his shoulders.

Peter ran his hand up Mike's chest before moving it down to his stomach, grinning inside as Mike's stomach muscles contracted underneath his hand.

He moaned lowly at the feeling of Mike's mouth against his, Mike's tongue in his mouth, Mike's skin beneath his hand. He knew, in the back of his mind, that this should be strange, because it was Mike But it wasn't strange. It felt right. He wondered absently why they hadn't been doing this all along, and then remembered why they were doing it now. The dare. Micky. Micky and Davy who were still sitting there, oh God.

Peter abruptly broke the kiss.

"I think that's good," Peter gasped out, looking desperately into Mike's confused eyes.

"That's...? Oh. Oh." Mike cleared his throat as he slowly realized their surroundings.

"Is that good, Mick?" He asked as he slid his hand swiftly out of Peter's hair and pulled his shirt back on, probably setting a world record for fastest shirt-buttoner.

"... Micky?" He finally turned to look at his friend when he didn't receive an answer.

Micky was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, his face slightly flushed and he was biting his lip. Davy was still sprawled next to him but appeared to be squirming uncomfortably.

"Micky?" Mike asked louder.

"Oh, uh, yeah, Mike?" Micky seemed to shake out of some sort of reverie.

"Are you satisfied?"

Davy nearly choked.

'I wish,' Micky mentally whimpered. "Um, yeah, that's cool. Your turn."

"Yeah. Uh..." Mike had just realized that Peter was still straddling him and gave him a slight nudge.

"Oh," Peter softly exclaimed, slinking off of Mike's lap and crouching in preparation to stand up, but Mike grabbed his hand to stop him. Peter looked at him questioningly, a blush still evident on his face.

Mike tugged Peter back down into the space next to him, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it. He determinedly told himself not to blush as he turned back to the other two, very focused on ignoring Micky's huge grin as he spoke.

"Davy, truth or dare?"