Work Text:
Christmas 1965 was a humble affair.
Still working to get the band off the ground, they had all taken odd jobs to try and make rent, but there was little money left over. They had agreed not to spend that money on presents for each other—which was alright, considering their families had sent a few—instead using it to buy a nice (cheap) little tree. Paired with some old decorations from home, they were able to liven up the Pad a bit. And while their dinner of ham sandwiches was no Christmas feast, sitting around their little table and eating together while the radio softly played Christmas carols made for a decent evening.
They had known that trying to make it as a band would be hard, so they were just glad to have each other.
When they finished eating, Mike stood up and said, “I have something for y’all.”
Micky, Davy, and Peter exchanged stricken looks.
“But I thought we agreed-” Peter began, as Micky said, “But I didn’t get-”
Mike shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know what we agreed to, and I wasn’t expecting y’all to get anything. But I wrote this song, see, and I…I wrote it for you guys, so… well, you don’t have to like it, but I wanna play it for you, at least.”
“You wrote a song for us?” Micky looked touched.
“We’d love to hear it, Mike,” Davy assured him.
Peter was just smiling at him, with that bright smile of his that showed off his dimple.
“Okay,” Mike said, nervously, and went to get his guitar.
By the time he had tuned it up, Micky, Davy, and Peter were sitting in the living room waiting for him.
He cleared his throat and shifted his feet, nervous with them staring so expectantly at him.
“It’s okay Mike. Whenever you’re ready,” Micky told him with a soft smile.
“Just trust the music,” Peter added.
Mike hoped he would lose himself in the music the same way he had writing the song. He took a deep breath, and began to play the opening notes.
He kept his gaze locked firmly down at the guitar, too scared to look at his friends and worried he would mess up the words if he looked at them, no matter what emotion their faces might show.
And then he began to sing.
No heartaches felt, no longer lonely
Nights of waiting finally won me happiness that’s all rolled up in you
And now with you as inspiration, I look toward a destination
Sunny bright that once before was blue
I have no more than I did before
But now I’ve got all that I need
For I love you and I know you love me
So take my hand, I’ll start my journey
Free from all the helpless worry
That besets a man when he’s alone
For strength is mine when we’re together
And with you I know I’ll never have to pass the high road for the low
I have no more than I did before
But now I’ve got all that I need
For I love you and I know you love me
Yes I love you and I know you love me
When the song came to a close, Mike finally found the courage to look up. Micky, Davy and Peter stared back at him with watery eyes.
“Merry Christmas, guys,” he offered weakly, not knowing what else to say, and they launched out of their seats and ran into his arms.
“That was beautiful, Mike,” Davy said, and Peter asked, “You really wrote that for us?” and Micky nearly sobbed, “We love you too.” Then he remembered Mike’s lyrics and added, “But I guess you already knew that.”
Mike chuckled, and took a step back to take off his guitar so he could hug them better.
“Yeah, I wrote that for you guys,” he said, rejoining the hug. “It’ll sound better with the full instrumentation though.”
“Well, it already sounds very good,” Peter assured him.
“But it’ll be fun to hear it as the whole band,” Micky added. “Music always sounds better when we’re making it together.”
“Yes it does, shotgun,” Mike replied with a chuckle.
“And that’s really how you feel? About us?” Davy asked in awe.
Mike swallowed and nodded, feeling vulnerable. “You guys are just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Us and the band.”
“I feel the same way,” Davy told him with a soft smile.
“Me too,” added Peter, and Micky joined in with a “Samesies!”
They hugged each other tighter.
“We’ll make it someday,” Micky told Mike. “The band is just getting started. We’re gonna go far, baby, you’ll see.”
Mike smiled, and rested his forehead against Micky’s.
With one final squeeze, they separated.
“That might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” Peter told Mike. “Thank you.”
“Thanks for being here,” Mike replied.
Micky, meanwhile, had picked the guitar back up. “Hey, do you know any Christmas songs on this? My family used to always do a big singalong while someone played guitar.”
Mike smiled, taking the guitar from him. “You’re in luck, Mick, we used to do that too.”
“Oo, that sounds fun,” Davy said.
“Oh yes! Can we do the ‘12 Days of Christmas’?” Peter asked.
Mike grinned and plucked through the chords as they all sat down.
About halfway through “Silent Night”, Davy stopped singing, and when the song was over he let out a tremendous sniffle.
“Sorry, that song always makes me cry,” he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“It’s okay,” Peter assured him, draping an arm over his shoulders and encouraging him to sit closer. Davy snuggled in under his arm while Mike smiled gently and said, “Let’s do something a little cheerier next, huh?”
“Oo! How about ‘Feliz Navidad’,” Micky suggested.
“That’s a good one,” Peter agreed.
Soon, the Pad was filled with the sounds of them scream-singing, “ I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas! ”
They sang songs until they were tired, too tired to think of more songs and too tired to keep singing and simply too tired to stay awake.
Just before they headed off to bed, Mike paused to say, “Merry Christmas, guys. I love you.”
“We love you too,” Davy told him with a smile.
”Very much,” Peter agreed.
“Merry Christmas, babe,” Micky said.