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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.

"Shades of Grey"

Title: Shades Of Grey

Author: pinecone

Genre/Pairing: Micky/Davy

Rating: R I guess

Warnings: Well there's sex in it omg

Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees or the tv show or anything whups

Summary: 'Friends with benefits' is a vague term, and usually too vague for when you're in l-o-v-e.

Author's Note : Oh man I’m sorry about the summary but yeyeha I loooove dicky I mean jolenz well I mean dicky but yeah this is my first micky/davy fic and my first fic seriously(?) writing smut. or something. so yeah, feedback and stuff? uhh yeah enjoy.

"So what d’you want for dessert, huns?”

Their waiteress, a tall pretty blonde, popped her gum for about the twentieth time that night, glanced at Davy, who’d been talking her up since they’d walked in. And with any luck, would be feeling her up by tonight.

Davy smiled at her, carefully avoiding looking at Micky, who had been practically burning holes into the side of his head all day. Either he’s ignoring me, or he’s so wrapped in flirting with faux-Bridget Bardot here he doesn’t notice. Micky frowned, and felt a little flicker of annoyance. 

I’m going to get his attention, and I’m going to get it now.

“Davy sounds pretty good right now,” he blurted.

Davy made a little squashed squirrel noise and turned to Micky wide-eyed.


The waitress blinked and glanced at her notepad. “Uh nope, No Davy on the menu.” Davy gave Micky a ‘you’re gonna get it later’ look and started rambling to the waitress again. Yeah, I’m gonna get it later, he thought, grinning.

Micky felt a pair of eyes on him, and pulled a Davy, concentrating on his half-eaten food, and refusing to look around at Mike. Yeah, Peter didn’t know anything about ‘MickyandDavy’ yet - he needed his sanity, or whatever sanity he had left. And it wasn’t like Micky’d meant to let Mike know - it’s just when you’re discovered shirtless and draped all over your bandmate in bed it’s hard not to.

Mike, Mike, Mike, you worry too much man, he thought, trying his hardest to send to good vibes his way. His thoughts were broken, however, when Peter started choking on a crouton in his salad and Mike had to leap to the rescue.

The rest of the night went the way things always went nowadays - Peter talking adamantly about whatever crazy stupid hippie invention theory he’d picked up somewhere and everyone kind of half paying attention, and Davy winking at every waitress who walked by and Micky staring at Davy while Mike stared at Micky. It used to be different, when they all used to talk to each other and everyone knew everything and there were no secrets and nobody was in the dark about anything. It made Micky upset sometimes but it wasn’t like he could just burst out of nowhere and start talking about him and Davy at the top of his lungs. Well he could, but he’d probably lose Davy forever. If he’d ever even had him.


Micky’d known Davy was cute from the second he’d first laid eyes on him. Mike had seen him singing in clubs and had talked about how they needed a Brit in their group. “Girls gocrazy for guys with an accent - look at the Beatles!”(Micky asked why Mike’s accent wasn’t bringing in the ladies and had found himself sleeping on the couch for a week.)Davy’d just left the beach, and Mike had spotted him from the beach house window and nearly tackled him and dragged him back to the pad.

So, there was Micky, sitting on the couch staring at the TV with a mouth full of chips when Mike had burst in, presenting to them possibly the most otherwordly cutie Micky’d ever seen. He was short -  and looked even shorter next to Mike and had an adorable little nose and big brown eyes still had sand all over his back and arms from the beach. The little red shorts were a plus.

Oh, Micky didn’t think he was cute in a queer way. Oh no way no sireebob not Micky Dolenz. It was kind of like the way you’d look at a puppy, or a rabbit, or a monkey(haha, monkees) and went “oh well isn’t that cute!” It wasn’t like you wouldn’t want to fuck the poor animal. Davy was just another puppy.

At least at that time.

But back to shirtless Davy. Micky probably terrified him by spitting chips everywhere and rolling around choking and of course there were the awkward introductions. Mike couldn’t understand Davy’s accent half the time and Davy couldn’t understand his - but they eventually worked things out and Davy became part of the dysfunctional Monkees family(?). It wasn’t easy though. It’s kind of hard to get used to someone in the group getting abducted by aliens every other week(Davy’s first time being abducted was probably permanently traumatizing) and how bad Peter’s cooking is(moldy roast beef ala mode was a first and last). But all in all, Davy got used to it.

And Micky got used to Davy. Very used to Davy. They were halves of a whole, Siamese Twins, partners in crime. Friends. And Micky was okay with that. Yeah, Davy’s cute. He’s a puppy. I wouldn’t fuck a puppy.

That changed one night(the Davy part, not Micky’s stance on puppy fucking).

It was late and dark in the pad except for the TV, where Micky was lying on the couch, half-awake. Peter had already been put to bed, and Mike was either snoring away with his guitar in his arms or out on the beach somewhere, brooding like a character in a cheesy romance novel.

Where was Davy? Good question.

He should be back by now, Micky thought, glancing at the clock. 12:30 am. He was out at a date and was usually back with whoever it was he was dating this week by now, running upstairs with her without a word and subjecting whoever was awake then to their….noises.

Maybe he’s staying at hers for a cha- Micky’s thoughts were cut off short when he heard the Monkeemobile come into the driveway.

The front door opened and slammed and Micky turned, peeking at the dark form at the door.


“Fuck off.”

Micky frowned. “What happened?”


“D’you want to talk about it?”



Davy stood at the staircase, not facing Micky.

“Cecila broke up with me.”

Micky scrunched up his nose. “The blonde one? With the brown eyes. The one that smelled like compost?”

“Move over,” Davy said, trying not to laugh. Micky budged over to make room for him on the couch and Davy sighed, laying his head on Micky’s shoulder.

“She did it in front of everybody too. Middle of a restauraunt. Loudly. Completely humiliated me.”

“There are plenty of sea in the fish, Davy. I mean Davy in the sea. I mean - “

“She called me ugly,” Davy blurted.

Micky turned to him, eyebrows raised. Davy - ugly - that - Davy and ugly shouldn’t even be in the same sentence! Micky glanced down  at his face and was shocked to find little tears pricking at the ends of his eyes. Davy rubbed them away quickly, glaring at the tv, but not really seeing it.

“Davy, baby, you’re far from ugly. You’re not ugly or stupid or whatever anyone says.”

Davy just buried his face into Micky’s neck and Micky’s mind went back to that day, that day with the red shorts and the beach sand and the puked up chips and that adorable nose and those perfect thighs and kissable lips and – 



That’s a new development, Micky thought as Davy sighed quietly into his neck.


And so it began. Davy , of course, bounced right back and was quickly the highest grossing man in the business of sleeping with girls. Sure, Micky liked girls just as much as the next guy, but the next guy was Davy and that was all Micky could concentrate on anymore. But it wasn’t like he could concentrate very well in the first place.

And maybe, just maybe, there was that one time Davy drunkenly kissed Micky on the cheek, or maybe that one time when Micky when slept in Davy’s bed because of ‘thunder’, or maybe that one time when Micky was mysteriously without a shirt and they were mysteriously in a bed and a very confused and frightened Texan was standing in the doorway.

Whatever had happened, Micky only clearly remembered when Davy had sat him down, straightened his collar, blushed, and said:

“Micky, we’re just friends, right?”

And Micky had smiled and nodded, haha, sock it to me, whatever man, sure - of course we’re just friends.

That didn’t exactly correspond with the violence that Davy used when he pushed Micky up against a wall a day later and started ravaging him, but if that was the way Davy wanted it, Micky wasn’t going to ruin it.

“You can’t ‘just be friends’ and be fucking him, Mick,” Mike had argued, following him around the kitchen as he made himself a sandwich. “Then how is happening right now?” Micky replied, trying to choose which baloney was moldier. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Mike pushed on in exasperation. 

“I know Mike. I told you I’d stop sliding down the banister.”

So here Micky was now, sitting in the back seat with Peter, with Davy in the front, who’d make a big show of getting the waitress’s number. It’s probably fake, Micky thought, feeling that familiar prick of bitterness that had been coming more and more recently.

When they pulled into the driveway, Davy practically jumped out of the car and into the house without a word to Micky. Mike turned back to Micky who had slumped down in his seat, lost in his thoughts, and turned to Peter. “Hey, Pete, we should go to the gas station, we don’t want the monkeemobile to break down on us in the morning.”

“Okay, Michael,” Peter said, smiling.

“You go on,” Mike said, glancing at Micky. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the house.

Micky sidled out of the car and watched them drive off.

“Okay, Mick, calm down. He probably just wants to get to calling the waitress right away. There’s no way he’s mad at you. Davy never gets mad at you.

Confidence filling his heart, he turned and walked in the door.


No answer.

Frowning, he headed upstairs. The light was on in Davy and Mike’s room and he hesitated at the door.

Just as he stopped, the door flung open and a little hand shot out and dragged him inside.

Micky felt himself hit the bed hard and caught Davy shutting and locking the door in the corner of his eye. “Hey man, Davy wai-“

Davy smashed his lips into Micky’s and he made a frantic noise, trying to talk. Davy pulled away from him, a little saliva strand hanging between their mouths. He ran a finger along Micky’s bottom lip, shushing him. “Talk later, fuck now,” he said, eyes staring into Micky’s. Micky went silent, blinking.

Davy knelt down and kissed him again, slowly and more gentle than before. Micky slowly wrapped his arms around the litle British singer, moaning softly. God, he really loved Davy’s kisses. His lips had got to be the softest things he’d ever touched and he loved it when Davy got his hands in his hair and really pulled at it and i love him, i love him so –


Micky gently pushed Davy away, making him look at Micky. with scrunched up eyebrows and a little frown starting on his lips.

“Wot?” His accent always got heavier when he gets turned on like this, Micky thought, just getting lost in staring at his lips and his eyes and his – 


“Davy,” Micky said, snapping back into reality. “Davy, we can’t, remember. We’re just friends.” Davy stared at him blankly before sitting back and muttering, “Oh. Oh yeah.”

He stayed silent and Micky started to ramble on, moving closer to Davy. “And we can’t just go on fucking each other ‘cause it’s bad for the both of us because we’re just friends and we shouldn’t be doing it because we’re just friends and you should go and call that waitress and fuck her instead because we’re just friends and I don’t know why you flirt with everyone you see when you know I’m watching but it’s probably because we’re just friends and - “


“I’m sorry,” Micky muttered, lying back down on the bed and covering his eyes.

“Micky, Micky, Micky,” Davy said, lying down beside him. “I…well, Micky if I really wanted to be just friends with you why would I be doing this?”

“But you said - I - “

“Yeah I know what I said,” Davy said, staring at the ceiling. “I’m just stupid and it never works out like that and I’ve probably hurt you a lot and I’m sorry and I’m an idiot and I’ve fallen in love with you and I’ve probably fucked everything up and I - “

“Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

“Shut up, Dolenz,” Davy replied, blushing and kissing him on the cheek. Micky tried hard not to start giggling like a schoolgirl when Davy started kissing him up and down his neck, sucking at that one spot where his shoulder and neck met, making him kick his legs and moan.

“Davy,” Micky moaned as he felt Davy climb atop him and start straddling him. “Let’s get that off,” Davy said in an almost business-like tone, unbuttoning Micky’s shirt and bringing the sleeves down off his arms. Micky grinned when he felt something hard rub insistently against his hips and deadpanned, “I think something else needs getting off too.”

Davy snorted and silenced him with another kiss, sliding his tongue over Micky’s bottom lip and moving his hand down Micky’s chest. His finger brushed over one of his nipples and Micky moaned, biting Davy’s lip.

Davy gasped, closing his eyes as Micky started ravaging his mouth. “Nngh, Micky!” he growled, bucking against him and wrapping his arms around him as Micky managed to roll him over.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Mr. Jones,” Micky told him as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you you look better with none on at all.” Davy just shuddered as Micky’s lips touched his chest and start moving downwards. Davy threw his head back and started up moaning again as Micky started fondling his erection through his pants.

“Looks like Little Davy wants to come out and play,” Micky laughed, making Davy sit up a little and glare at him, pouting.

Micky licked his lips at the little innocent look on his face and unzipped Davy’s pants, dragging them off along with his underwear. He smiled at the slightly reddened cock in front of him and moved down to it.



Micky just nodded, feeling Davy’s hands tangle themselves in his hair as he sucked and licked at the cock in front of him. He hummed lightly, sending vibrating sensations along the Brit’s hardness and Davy’s legs started jerking and his moans started to become unintelligible.

“Micky - fuck, Micky, oh god - “

Micky felt something nagging at the back of his mind and it wasn’t the fact that Davy was practically pulling out all of his hair by now. He pulled back, dragging his lips along Davy’s hard cock, before leaving it wet and needy. Davy made a frustrated noise and Micky looked up at him, spit and pre cum dripping from his parted lips. He raised an eyebrow, grinning, before getting rid of his jeans and moving up to kiss Davy again.

Davy wrapped his arms around Micky’s neck, moving his hips against him slowly. Micky kept back a moan and pulled away, huskily muttering, “Davy um…”

“Yeah, love?” Davy panted.

“I…” Micky blushed. “Well, I kind of - I want to fuck you.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing, man!” Davy laughed breathlessly but Micky just blushed.

“You know! You know….up the ass and stuff,” he whispered. They’d never done it before that way - it was usually just blowjobs and handjobs and kissing and they just seemed to skirt around it again and again and again. I want this, Micky thought, eyes pleading.

“Oh,” Davy said, eyebrows going up into his bangs. Micky cringed. “I-It’s okay if you don’t want to do that, we don’t have to, we really don’t, we can just - ” Davy kissed him hard.


“Davy - “

“Fuck me, Micky,” Davy growled.

That just about wiped any inhibitions from Micky’s mind, heat searing through his cock, and he reached over Davy for the nightstand and started rummaging around in the drawer. There it is, he thought, bringing back a small bottle of lube.

“Prepared,” Davy commented, glancing at it, a flicker of nervousness in his eye.

Micky kissed him on the cheek. “Remember Davy, if you don’t want to - “

“I want to.”

“Okay,” Micky murmured, squirting out some of the lube into his hands and squirting it over his fingers. He moved toward Davy, who was staring at him with those deer in the headlight eyes he got when he was nervous. “Just relax,” Micky said, pausing and slowly pushing a finger into Davy. He watched as Davy’s eyebrows knitted together and his lips parted to let out a little moan. “Mm, Micky, baby,” he grunted, moving back against the fingers.

Micky slowly pushed in a second, moving around inside, watching Davy squirm through half-lidded eyes. After a second, he pulled out and Davy’s eyes fluttered open.

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” Davy answered, eyes wide.

Micky lathered himself up, body sparking with anticipation and started slowly pushing into Davy.

Davy made a loud choking noise and Micky stopped dead. “No, no, no, keep going,” Davy said, cutting off Micky’s apology. “I just…yeah.”

Micky swallowed and slowly started up again. Davy muffled his noises by pushing his face into the pillow. He honestly felt like he was being torn in half, but if Micky wanted it, he was going to give it to him. It was going to feel good eventually. Probably. Maybe.

“Fuck, Davy, you’re so tight,” Micky groaned, nearly melting in all the pressure. Davy just nodded, eyes squeezed tight and face red.

Fuck, Micky thought. He started pushing in, searching from that spot he knew existed. It had too, right? Probably. Maybe.


Micky glanced up at Davy, panting. “Huh?”

“Mm, do that again,” Davy murmured. “Whatever that was.”

Micky paused and thrusted forward slowly, and Davy broke out in a loud moan. “Micky, fuck, yes, oh god,” Davy moaned, pushing his face into Micky’s shoulder. “Oh God, Micky,faster!” he yelled, throwing his head back as Micky started thrusting into that spot that made Davy see stars and scream like a banshee.

He pulled Micky’s face toward him, smashing their lips together and practically sucking his lips off. Micky couldn’t concentrate between the sensations running through his cock and the ones going on in his mouth and bucked hard, making Davy break away from the kiss gasping. Micky grasped Davy’s cock tightly, slowly jerking him off. Davy made a whining noise when Micky teased the tip with his thumb. “Micky - fuck - Micky,” Davy gasped, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. He glanced up at his bandmate through half-lidded eyes, pupils fully blown and his lips parted.

“I l-love you, Micky.”

Micky kissed him on the nose and murmured, “Love you too Davy.” And with that, he thrusted hard, kind of like a drill, and heard Davy scream his name and felt something warm and sticky flood over his hand. Micky felt Davy tighten around him and he choked, feeling a tightening in his stomach.

“Ungghh, Davy!” He came deep inside the little British singer, sighing and laying his head on his shoulder.

He gently pulled out and brought Davy down gently onto the bed. He sighed and snuggled into Micky’s chest, eyes closed. Micky put his arms around him and laid there for a second, mind full of doubts, before looking down at him and opening his mouth.

“Shhh,” Davy said, eyes still closed. “Of course I really love you.”

Micky blushed hard and pulled him closer.


Peter and Mike, who’d been downstairs for the past twenty minutes, looked at each other as the noise upstairs ceased completely. Peter had a blush all over his face and spreading to his neck.

“So,” Peter started after a long pause.

“Toldja we should’ve waited longer to come home,” Mike laughed.