Prompt: Mike and Micky meet for the first time on the set for The Monkees

Rating: PG-13

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Micky's eyes widened as he looked around the set for the show. He couldn't believe it was actually real.

He and three other boys had been selected to play a band on a TV show. He hadn't met his costars yet and he was the first who arrived on set. He was both excited and nervous. What if they didn't get along?

Micky was ripped out of his thoughts by someone talking. The voice was low and British and Micky looked up as one of the producers walked in with a short man. He was very short, 5'4 at the most, and had chin length brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled with happiness when he looked up and saw Micky.

"'ello," the boy said, going straight to Micky and extending his hand, "my name's Davy."

"Micky," Micky said, and smiled. The two were interrupted by a door opening and closing. They both looked over just in time to see a lanky, blond-haired kid join them on the set.

"Hey," he said to Davy and Micky, "am I late?"

"Nah, you're good," Davy said. The blond boy smiled in relief.

"Oh, good. I'm Peter, by the way."

Davy and Micky introduced themselves and a set worker came up to them.

"Where's the fourth kid?" he asked.

Davy shrugged. "Hasn't shown up yet, I suppose."

The set worker sighed. "Damnit. He should be here by now!"

Everyone waited in silence for over ten minutes. Micky was just beginning to think that the other boy would never show up when the door finally opened and closed.

"Sorry I'm late," a voice layered with a thick Texan accent said. Micky looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

The boy was tall, very tall. His eyes were dark and brooding and he had the prettiest black hair Micky'd ever seen. He skin was tanned just slightly and he wore a green wool hat along with a checkered shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots.

"Where the hell have you been?" one of the workers demanded.

The boy shrugged. "Traffic?"

None of the set workers laughed, but the boys did, to be polite more than anything. Micky was still staring at the boy and the boy finally caught him.

"Hey," the boy drawled, "I'm Mike."

"M-Micky." Micky silently cursed himself. He was already stuttering!

Mike's small, plump, perfectly kissable lips curled up just slightly in a smile. "How ya doin', Mick?"

Micky swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down to play with his hands. "I'm good."

He looked back up just in time to see Mike wink at him. It was slow, subtle, but it happened nonetheless. Micky blushed.

Work just got a whole lot more interesting.