Archive of Our Own

The door to the pad opens abruptly, causing Mike to look over from his place at the sink, startled.

“Mike!” Micky calls out, sounding slightly panicked.

The two enter through the front door, Micky carefully helping to bring in a crying and clearly upset Peter.

“What happened?” Mike tries to keep his voice calm, although he isn’t able to do much about the rise in pitch at the sight of Peter looking slightly bloody and scraped up. 

“He fell. He got scraped up pretty good.”

Mike can absolutely see that. Peter’s pants had definitely taken the brunt of the damage from what he can immediately tell.

“An’ now he's all—y'know.” Micky does a pinching motion with his fingers, knowing that Mike would understand.

Which he does, he's more than familiar with the phenomenon by now. It's made its way all throughout the pad, each Monkee having some kind of experience with it. Positive or not. 

He nods in response, gently taking hold of Peter's arm and looking him over real quick.

Nothing seemed to be broken or serious enough to have to rush him straight to the hospital thankfully. Not that Mike isn't worried, he hates to see any of his partners upset. And seeing Peter crying, slightly bloody, and trying to curl up into himself was a tough sight. 

The poor thing seemed to be shaken up more than anything.

"Come on now, lil’ buddy, it's alright." Mike comforts softly, leading Peter over to sit down at one of the kitchen chairs. “You're gonna be okay.”

The sobs and sniffles coming from the bassist tug harshly at Mike's heart. 

Peter finally sits down in the chair with a whimper. He's doing his best to look up at Mike, and not down at his pants. He's scared of what he might find if he does. 

The sharp sting of his scraped knees, the ache in his elbow, the tight feeling of his ripped pants no doubt sticking to his skin due to the blood, and even the way his throat had also begun to hurt slightly from crying, it was beyond overwhelming.

He can’t help but be reminded of how it was when he was younger, doing silly things and running to his parents when he got hurt. 

Of course he hadn't meant to get himself hurt this time. He thought it would be fun. And it was fun for a while. When Micky stood close and gave him something to anchor onto as he rolled down the sidewalk on the  drummer’s new skateboard. It only turned sour once he thought about trying it by himself. Where it went well for all of fifteen seconds. 

To be fair, the curb really did come out of nowhere.

Looking up at Mike's worried expression only made him think back to his younger years more. His mother was always there to fuss over him and comfort him whenever he needed it. 

And him being the person that he is, he needed it quite a lot. 

Getting looked after again with similar care and tenderness has all of his thoughts turning syrupy. The pain throughout his body only seeming to intensify it and continuing to make him feel much smaller than he is. 

“What’s happened down here?” He hears Davy’s voice come from the staircase behind him. He doesn’t think he’s ever turned around so fast. 

He’s reaching out for the shortest Monkee immediately, desperately needing to hold onto him.

Davy is instantly concerned, but he’s also able to recognize the familiar change in his boyfriend’s demeanor. A change which doesn’t surprise him one bit as he takes in Peter’s current state; his ripped pants, his scraped up hands, his tear stained face.

“What happened, Peter?”

Peter tries his best to respond, he really does, but he’s feeling much too overwhelmed to get anything intelligible out. So it’s mostly just him crying into Davy’s shirt once he’s close enough, wanting to stop feeling like too much is happening all at once.

“Okay—um, I’m gonna go grab ‘im, uh, some new clothes.” Mike stutters out, already heading towards the stairs, slightly frantic.  

At the realization that Mike would be leaving, even if only for a second, Peter gets more upset. He can’t help it. It doesn’t feel like he can help much of anything right now. 

Davy does his best to shush him and try to help calm him down, even if it’s only a little bit. “He’s gonna be right back, love. Before you even know it.”

Only a few muffled whimpers come from Peter at that. 

Davy pets at his hair comfortingly, an act that finally offers a bit of relief. The gentle, repetitive motion giving him something more solid to focus on. 

The light run of his hand over Peter's soft, albeit messy, locks. The tender way he was speaking to him, it made him want to cry even more. 

Micky watches from the sidelines, unsure on if he should step in.

He can’t help but feel guilty. 

He let Peter try out the skateboard after all, it had to be his fault, right?

And surely Peter wouldn’t take any comfort in the guy whose fault it is that he’s so upset and hurt in the first place. 

At least it makes sense to him that Peter might feel that way. 

Is it entirely logical considering how forgiving and generally understanding Peter is? Probably not, but his mind has already started telling him that it had to be true.

Soon enough, Mike is making his way back down the stairs, new clothes and a familiar friend of Peter's in his hands.

“See, he's back already, Peter!” Davy announces, his hand resting softly on the back of Peter's head.

“Look what I got, buddy!”

Peter only lets out another whimper in response, not wanting to move from his place in Davy’s side. 

His sobs are still intense, but fortunately they have eased slightly.

The two men look at each other in understanding, Mike lets out a sigh and brings a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Why don't you take him to the bathroom and get him cleaned up, babe? That might help, just the two of ‘ya.”

Davy wags his finger in agreement, quickly snatching the clothes and stuffed animal from Mike.

“Peter, love?” Davy steps back a bit to be able to get a better look at the still crying boy. 

There's a heartbreaking sound that comes from said boy as he's pulled away from, but he doesn't put up a fight. He only looks up sadly, his usual smiling face pulled into a deep frown. His face red and his cheeks blotchy. His hair was even sticking up every which way in the front. It takes a lot for Davy not to coo at him.

“Let's go get you cleaned up and changed, babe.” Davy proposes softly. “Just you and me, that sound okay?”

There's a couple shaky breaths let out before Peter slowly nods. Anything had to be better than how he felt now, and of course he trusted Davy. He knows Davy just wants to help.

“Yeah? Come on, love.” He encourages, holding a hand out for Peter to take hold of. 

The two of them slowly make their way over to the bathroom, Davy guiding Peter and continuing to comfort him along the way. 

Davy shoots Mike a hopeful thumbs up before he shuts the door behind him.

Mike lets out a sigh that's somewhere between anxious and relieved. He can only hope that being with Davy and getting cleaned up will help poor Peter. 

It's always hard to see one of the group upset, but he never was the best at dealing with crying. At least with overwhelmed and gasping sobs like that. 

He really wishes he was better with it.

He would've loved to help more with Peter, but he knows it's more than likely he'll just end up getting overwhelmed himself. And that's the last thing that Peter needs.

He's never felt more grateful for Davy Jones.

“He's gonna be okay, right?” Micky asks softly, breaking the silence. He lightly takes hold of Mike's arm.

“Of course, Mick. Davy knows what he's doin’.”

There's a nod in response, although Micky is still looking around a bit anxiously.

“How're you doing, babe?” 

The younger Monkee looks a little surprised by the question. He scratches at his neck a bit as he thinks up an answer.

“I'm, uh, I'm doing okay, I think.”

Mike hums, but he doesn't seem too convinced.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Micky looks down at the ground. He does want to talk about it. But what if Mike gets upset with him for it? He already knows that he shouldn't have let Peter go by himself. He isn't sure if he could handle his boyfriend scolding him right now.

"I was just trying to teach him how to skateboard.” He confesses.

"Okay…and whose idea was that, Mick?" Mike questions, not wanting to assume anything.

He doesn’t sound angry or mad, maybe a little confused if anything, but Micky can't help but feel nervous. Like he’s just waiting for Mike to start yelling at him for being reckless and getting Peter hurt. It isn’t exactly rational, but it’s what his brain is continuing to give him.

“Mine…but I was just showing him at first! And then he wanted to try it too. He was holding onto me—we were having fun.”

Micky looks down, slightly ashamed. He hadn't meant to hurt Peter, but he got hurt anyway. And thinking about the sight and sound of his boyfriend crying and in pain only made his eyes begin to water as well.

He shifts around on his feet a bit, trying to keep himself from actually crying. That’d be silly wouldn’t it? He wasn’t the one who got hurt. 

“How’d he fall down like that if he was holdin’ onto you then, babe?”

Micky’s shoulders tighten a bit, there’s a beat before he answers.

Mike can see that Micky needs some of his own comfort and attention. It wasn’t a big shift, but it was big enough for him to notice. It never was the biggest change in Micky compared to the other two.

"He just wanted to try going by himself. Just a little down the block." he mumbles, fiddling with his fingers. "I know I shouldn’t have let him, Mike."

“C'mon, let's go sit down, babe.” 

Micky lets himself be guided over to the couch, honestly just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Y’know that's why you're supposed to wear the knee pads and helmet when you're using it, babe. Remember?” Mike reminds him softly. “I know you didn't mean for him to get hurt.”

Micky's gaze falls down to his lap at that. But Peter did get hurt. He's hurt and upset. He was even bleeding, his poor pants were all torn up at the knees now.

Micky was regretting not comforting Peter earlier when he had the chance. Even just letting him know he was there would've been better than nothing.

“Yeah…” He can’t help but get irritated at the crack in his voice. The tears make their way down his cheeks faster than he can even recognize, Mike notices before he does. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

He tries to turn away from Mike, feeling embarrassed and no doubt looking ridiculous crying over something he did.

“Hey now, you don’t have to be sorry, sugar.” Mike takes hold of Micky’s hands and slowly swipes his thumbs against them back and forth, remembering Micky had mentioned that he liked that specific motion. Had said that he found it sweet, comforting. Micky needed some comforting right now. “It was just an accident.”

Micky only shakes his head in reply, afraid to open his mouth in fear that some kind of horrible sound will come out. 

Mike pulls Micky against him, letting him rest his head against his shoulder, his face in Mike’s neck. Micky was never a big crier, there weren't too many times Mike can remember his boyfriend getting so upset over something like this. It was just an accident, but here he is, crying and clearly feeling guilty.

It hurt Mike's heart to see.

There's some low, soothing shushing that comes from the older Monkee, it comes out almost rhythmically. His hand moves up and down Micky’s back in a slow, circular motion. 

“You’re okay, honey. I know you didn’t mean for any of that to happen.” Mike reassures, his voice soft and quiet in Micky’s ear. 

“You're okay, I'm here with you.”

“Here we go, good job, Peter.”

Davy does his best to get Peter comfortable. The first thing he does (besides getting Peter to sit down on the edge of the tub) is show him the stuffed animal Mike had brought down for him. It was one of the ones from the pile on his bed, so he knew he’d be happy to see it. 

“Look, Peter!” Davy gasps excitedly, holding out the stuffed animal for him to take. “Look who it is!”

It was an old, well loved dog. Davy can’t remember where it came from exactly, but it’s definitely one of the older ones in Peter’s collection. Truth be told, the stuffed animal didn’t even have a name. Of course that doesn't mean it isn't any less loved. 

When Peter finally looks up to see it, Davy’s heart aches at just how quickly he's reaching out for it. Loud sniffles turning into a whine when it isn't handed over fast enough.

Once he has it though, he's squeezing it tightly against his chest. It's slightly matted fur bringing an immediate bit of comfort to him. 

Davy gives Peter a second to breathe and let the toy work some of its magic.

It honestly seems to work a little better than he thought it would, although he’s sure the change of scene also helped a lot. 

He reaches down to grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pleased to see that it was still well stocked. They haven’t had too many accidents recently. Which was surprising, but not unwelcome. Davy can only hope their streak continues after this, he enjoys not having to worry about bandaging up any of his bandmates.

Peter’s calmed down to where he’s not sobbing, but mostly sniffling, almost hiccuping, the tears have slowed down considerably. Davy is just glad he wasn’t breathing in gasps anymore. 

His breathing is shaky, but it’s a lot better than it was.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re gonna do, alright?” Davy starts, continuing only when he’s sure that Peter is paying attention. “We’re gonna get you outta these clothes, rinse you off, bandage you up, and get you in these comfy clothes, how about that?” 

He doesn’t get an answer beyond a sniffle and a slow blink, but he also doesn’t get any kind of negative reaction. So he figures it’s okay to continue on. They can always stop if Peter gets too overwhelmed. 

“Alright, let's clean you up, hm?”

Davy starts with Peter’s shoes, pulling them off of his feet, quickly followed by his green and blue mismatched socks. 

Peter watches with watery, but thankful eyes.

Davy gets up from the floor with a sigh, unsure if he should leave the hard part for last or not. Would it be better to just get it over with?

“Pants or shirt next, d’you think?”

Still not feeling in a talking mood, Peter simply rests his head on his stuffed animal and lifts one of his legs. It’s a good enough answer for Davy.

There's quite a few minutes of silence between Mike and Micky. Silence where the only noise in the room is Micky's breathing as he slowly begins to calm down.

Honestly just Mike holding him helped a whole lot. 

Still, he can't help but feel embarrassed about it. Embarrassed and still a little guilty.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbles, messing with a button on Mike's shirt absentmindedly.

“You’re not in trouble, babe, I promise.” 

Mike gives the boy in lap a reassuring squeeze.

“We all have accidents an’ forget to do things sometimes. But Pete’s gonna be just fine.”

Micky lets out a few more sniffles, looking up to meet Mike's eyes; his own looking wide and slightly puffy.

“Promise?”

“I pinky promise, look.” 

Mike holds out his pinky and Micky carefully hooks them together, a small smile finally making its way back onto his face.

“Which colors do you want, Peter?” Davy questions, holding up one of each.

Peter's eyes flit between the four options, ultimately deciding to go with yellow and blue.

“Ooh, good choices.”

Peter's lips curl into a small smile at that. 

He had fully stopped crying by now, only sniffling every now and then. His face was still red, and his eyes still red and puffy as well. He looks like he’s been through it.

Davy was just relieved he had done so well with the harder parts of patching him up. Especially when he had to clean around his scraped knees. He was very proud of Peter. 

“You're doin’ great, Peter.”

He quickly peels the backing off of one of the bandaids, reminding Peter to keep still for just a second. 

“Okay, just one more!” Davy chirps once he's done with that one.

“One more…” Peter parrots quietly, his eyes wide as he watches Davy peel the backing off of the last bandaid and place it on his scraped palm.

“All done!” Davy announces proudly.

He quickly tosses the peeled backings into the trash and begins to put the tin of bandaids and everything else he used back into the first aid kit.

“Davy…?” Peter asks, his voice sounding terribly soft and oh so small. He lightly runs a finger along one of the new bandaids covering his palm, looking slightly bashful.

“Hm?”

“Could-could you kiss them better?”

Davy exhales a tiny laugh, smiling up at Peter warmly, unable to help just how sweet he finds the request, feeling unbelievably fond. 

“Of course, Peter.”

Davy lightly presses soft kisses to both of Peter’s knees, counting one and then the other.

 Once he’s done with that, Peter holds out his hands, palms up, expectantly.

“Three…” Davy kisses atop the blue and white star patterned bandaid. Then gently takes hold of the bassist’s other hand after that, repeating the same action on the yellow and white bandaid. “Four! How was that?”

“One more?” Peter asks, his eyes still wide and hopeful. 

Davy thinks he'd have to be some kind of monster to deny that request.

He smiles and jumps up from the floor, gently taking hold of Peter’s face. He leans in and plants a big kiss right on the other's forehead. Making sure to accentuate the action by letting out a loud ‘mmmwah!’ as he does it. 

Once he's done, he finds Peter looking up at him with a wide, warm smile. The type that Davy is convinced could melt a hole right through an iceberg. 

He is so happy to see that smile again.

“All better now, love?“

Peter nods his head happily, quickly returning to fiddling with his stuffed animal, looking bashful once again.

“Okay okay, let’s get these clean clothes on you.”

“You wanna go check up on Peter, babe?” Mike asks him softly, leaning back a little so Micky could look up at him.

“I dunno…” 

“I'm sure he'd feel better seein’ you.”

“Do you think he's mad at me?“ Micky whispers, bringing one of his hands up to his mouth.

He absolutely intended to put a finger in his mouth, as he had a habit of doing when scared or nervous, but Mike wasn't about to let him without washing his hands.

“Yuck, none of that, Mick.” He gently guides Micky's hand away from his face. 

Micky pouts in response, but doesn't attempt to do it again. Instead settling for messing with one of Mike's shirt cuffs.

“I think Peter understands it was just an accident, honey.”

“But what if he doesn't?”

Mike hums, “Well why don't we see, and if he's upset you can always apologize, right?”

“Yeah…”

Mike pats Micky's leg reassuringly, then gets up and waits for him to do the same. 

It’s a very short walk over to the bathroom, but Micky takes immense comfort in Mike taking hold of his hand anyway. 

He watches as Mike knocks a couple of times against the door, his ear pressed close to it.

“Uh, it okay if we come in?”

It takes a second, but the door finally opens and they're met with Peter sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a soft smile on his face, looking much more comfortable in his new clothes. 

He certainly had calmed down quite a bit from the last time they had seen him.

Mike was beyond relieved.

“Hey! How’re you doin’, lil’ buddy?“

Once again not feeling very talkative at the moment, Peter only holds his hands out for Mike, wanting a hug. 

The poor guy was feeling more than a little wiped out after all that crying.

He gets his hug from the guitarist, as well as a kiss on the head. Peter's got his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing his face against Mike's stomach. He just enjoyed the feeling more than anything.

Micky slinks up right next to Mike, wanting to be close to Peter, but still feeling guilty. 

“Hi, Pete.” Micky manages to get out, feeling nervous. He really doesn't wanna be the reason Peter starts crying again.

Peter lifts his head and peeks over at Micky, and reaches out and takes hold of his shirtsleeve. 

His grip is gentle but excited. He's excited to see Micky. He's happy that they're all together, even if the bathroom has barely enough room for the four of them to be in there. From his perspective, things have only gotten so much better.

His knees, palms, and elbow still hurt, but it's not nearly as bad as it had been. It's a lot easier to focus on the three people he loves most being nearby than the remaining pain.

Probably a little too easy, but Peter always seemed to get easily distracted in this state. The other Monkees thought it more cute than anything. And of course they never seemed to be bothered if they had to remind him of something.

“You’re not mad at me?” Micky asks softly.

Peter just scrunches his face up a bit in confusion. He hadn't even thought of being upset with Micky about any of it. He can recognize the anxious look on Micky's face though, and goes from holding onto his sleeve to holding his hand.

“Not mad.”

The words bring a lot more comfort to Micky than he was expecting. It wasn't that he didn't believe Mike, he just needed to hear it from Peter. He knows that Peter wouldn’t lie.

He feels a lot lighter.

With a relieved smile, he leans down a bit and presses a quick kiss of his own to the bandaid on the smaller Monkee’s palm. It's quick, but it also means the world to Peter.

He can't help but love all the attention he was getting, even if it wasn't under the best circumstances, it’s  nice to feel so cared about. To feel completely loved, whether he’s hurt, crying, upset, or even feeling smaller than he really is. As confusing as that is. It’s especially nice then, he thinks, they’ve never made him feel bad about it. 

The guys always seemed to know what to do to help him feel okay.

“Man, you’re just gettin’ kisses from everybody today, aren’t you?” Mike teases.

“Of course, look at him! Isn’t he just the sweetest little thing?” Davy coos, reaching out and lightly tapping Peter on his nose.

He shoves his face back into Mike’s stomach, feeling slightly embarrassed. He enjoys the vibrations of Mike laughing as he does, the taller man gently petting his hair. 

“Why don’t we get out of the bathroom, it’s gettin’ pretty stuffy in here, ain’t it?” Mike proposes, looking over at Davy and Micky both. 

The two of them nod, and start moving around a bit in preparation. Davy quickly puts the first aid kit away under the sink and asks Micky if he wants to grab a snack. The drummer immediately perks up even more at the mention of food, following after Davy like an excited puppy. 

Mike smiles fondly, returning his attention to Peter, who only snuggled in closer to Mike. He always found it incredibly sweet just how clingy and affectionate he got like this. He couldn’t help but feel protective over him this way, even more so than usual. 

Getting to see his partners at their most vulnerable, knowing that they trust him with something so delicate and personal, it means a lot to him. He’d do anything to make sure they always felt that safe.

Peter’s grip around his waist loosens slightly and Mike has a feeling he might know why.

He looks down, brushing Peter’s bangs away from his face, hoping to get a better look at him. It’s hard with the way his face is smushed against him, but he asks anyway.

“You wanna go lie down, baby?” 

Peter’s head lifts back to look up at Mike and he nods slowly. His eyes feeling tired and his eyelids slightly heavy. He isn’t sure what time it is, but he feels more than ready for a nap.

He’s feeling a lot more wiped out than originally thought, now that he thinks about it. He’d love to lay down in bed and get held close by the other three. To feel completely safe in a world of their own like that. 

He isn’t able to think about it too much before a yawn interrupts him. Yeah, it was definitely looking like it was time for a nap.

“Yeah? Let’s go then, sugar.”

“Wash your hands, Micky.” Davy points over to the sink, knowing exactly how forgetful he could be when it came to little things like that. 

There’s a pout but no argument from him. He just shuffles over to the sink and makes quick work of soaping his hands up and rinsing them off.

“There! Squeaky clean.” 

Davy’s eyes roll in mock annoyance. He’s just relieved that Micky was feeling better than he was the last time he saw him. When he was looking very concerned for Peter, almost distressed by just how upset he was.

But he is beyond relieved he doesn’t have to worry about Micky touching any of their food with dirty hands now.

“Good job.”

Thankfully they didn’t only have a rotten tomato and half empty bottle of mustard in the fridge. They had recently gone to the store! It was definitely an exciting occasion for the group. They had all gotten to pick out certain treats for themselves. Sure they probably could’ve used the money for something else, but Mike had a hard time saying no that day.

Davy grabs all of the things needed to make a couple sandwiches and starts to put them together. As he spreads a bit of mustard on the bread Micky just stares. He isn’t really sure what to do besides that.

“Can I help?” He tilts his head to the side a bit as he asks, hoping it’ll convince Davy.

“Something to go with the sandwiches?”

“Aye-aye!”

Soon enough Micky is rummaging through the cabinets, determined to find some yummy snack to go along with their sandwiches. He comes across a bag of chips that basically have his name on them, and the small bag of grapes they had in the fridge. 

It was one of their treats they had picked out, in fact he was pretty sure Peter was the one to have picked them out. 

He places some in a bowl and rinses them off in the sink, shaking out the excess water to the best of his ability. His tongue pokes out a bit as he brings the bowl and bag of chips over to where Davy was almost done with the sandwiches. 

He smiles proudly at his work, to which the other Monkee smiles back.

“Good work, Micky.” 

Davy cuts the four sandwiches in half, making them into triangles. He wasn’t sure if everyone was hungry, but he knew that if someone didn’t want their sandwich that Micky more than likely would be able to take care of it. 

The other two Monkees finally make it out of the bathroom and join Micky and Davy in the kitchen. Peter had a tired grip on Mike's sleeve, slowly trailing behind him.

Mike says a few things to Davy, although Peter is much too focused on the thought of getting to lay down in bed to listen. He leans against the taller man's shoulder, his eyes falling closed for the minute or two that he has to stand there.

“C’mon, Peter.” Mike coos, making Peter open his eyes once again. 

“Okay, now be careful, Micky.” Davy warns, letting Micky go up the stairs before him. 

His job wasn’t super high stakes, he was only holding the bag of chips and bowl of grapes. But, if there was anything the other three knew about their curly-haired companion, it was that he was full of surprises. Davy’s sure that if he really wanted to, he could think of a hundred ways of making a mess just with those two things. 

“I got it!” 

Thankfully the two of them manage to make it to the second floor without a scratch and join Mike and Peter in their shared bedroom. 

The two of them are laying down on one of the pairs of pushed together beds. Mike is leaning against the headboard with Peter right next to him, resting his head on the other man’s chest, his eyes closed serenely. 

It’s an incredibly sweet sight to see.

Although after Micky and Davy make themselves known, Peter is sitting up and reaching his arms out for the shortest Monkee once again. Mike beckons Micky over at the same time. 

It takes the group a minute or two to get themselves all figured out, all four of them having to get up to move around the bed at one point, only to return to one of their first configurations. 

Mike is still against the headboard of the bed, with Micky almost fully laying down in his lap, his feet only slightly dangling off of the bed. Davy and Peter’s positions were similar, but with Peter leaned more against Davy’s chest than in his lap. 

Once they’ve gotten it figured out, the four of them finally start snacking away. 

It’s quiet in the room for a while as they eat their food. Most of the noise coming from Micky munching away at his chips. 

Peter isn’t as hungry as the other three and mostly enjoys nibbling on his bowl of grapes. He feels more tired than hungry.

While he’s having a nice time with his three favorite people, Mike can’t help but think about all the crumbs they’ll have to deal with after this. Sandwiches and chips? It was a recipe for disaster if you ask him. They're going to have to shake the bedsheet out outside. 

He watches Micky take a grape and hold it out in front of Peter, who opens his mouth and takes it from him quickly. 

Micky clutches his hand to his chest immediately after, as if Peter had taken off a finger. It gets quite a giggle from Peter in reaction.

Oh well, the bed was a problem for later Mike.

Once their late lunch/early dinner is finished, Davy and Mike set everything to the side on both nightstands, neither of them particularly wanting to get up. 

Peter makes a noise as he feels around on the bed for his stuffed animal, although quickly remembers that he accidentally left it downstairs. 

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Instead of an answer, the bassist only gets up and walks over to other set of pushed together beds, grabbing one of the stuffed animals from his small pile on his side of the bed. 

“Ooh, who've you got there, Peter?”

At the question, Peter simply lifts up the small stuffed animal and makes it wave one of its floppy limbs in response, his smile barely peeking out from behind it. 

“Is that one your favorite, Peter?” Davy asks, pointing at the green, plush frog curiously. 

Peter looks down for a moment, really thinking about it.

“Uh uh.” He finally responds.

“Which one d’you like best then, babe? You have so many.”

It’s true, Peter must have about eleven or twelve different stuffed animals all throughout the pad. Mike was pretty sure there was almost one in every room of the house. 

There's an immediate excited hum that comes from Peter at that question. He doesn’t even have to think about his answer. One of his signature sunny smiles makes its way back onto his face as he digs through the small pile of stuffed animals once again, searching for a particular one.

He pulls it out and holds it out in front of him proudly.

“My monkey.” 

Mike and Davy both pull overly dramatic, shocked expressions for a second, making the other two Monkees giggle slightly. It was music to Mike's ears.

“Ohhh, his monkey, that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Davy taps Mike’s arm with his own, pulling more laughs from Peter. 

“Well, that makes sense!” Mike adds at the same time.

Micky, during one of his fits of needing to create something, somehow found the patience to try sewing. It only lasted about a week before he was on to the next, but somewhere along the line he managed to put together a little sock monkey for Peter. 

He accidentally stabbed himself too many times to count while making it, and one of its arms turned out a little too short compared to the others, but the happy squeal that came from Peter when he saw it made the whole thing more than worth it for Micky. 

The stuffed animal didn't have a name, but that didn't mean it was loved any less. Peter just wasn't the best at coming up with names, whether he was feeling exactly like himself or not.

Peter returns to his spot on the bed, making sure to bring his monkey back with him. 

“D’you hear that, Micky babe? Your monkey is his favorite.”

 Micky doesn't answer beyond a hum, but he reaches over and shakes one of its little hands, a pleased smile gracing his face.

Mike gently cards his fingers through Micky's hair, lightly scratching a bit in a way that he knew his boy liked. 

Mike can't help but think of a dog in his mind. The head is his lap, looking up at the three of them with nothing but love in his eyes. 

It tugs at his heart, but in a different way than how it was earlier. Sometimes he can't believe he gets to experience these things, the amount of love there is between them.

There's a certain warmth in his chest, a warmth that he only seems to feel whenever the four of them are together like this.