Disclaimer: this imagine is NOT MINE. Credit to the original author, goatenthusiast. I got this from Archive of our Own.

Rating: R

This fic has one part

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(Of course, I love all four of the guys, but I've always had a special place in my heart for Mike and Micky. Read on...)

Feelin' "Groovy"

by GoatEnthusiast

It was an uncharacteristically tranquil Saturday night in the house by the beach. Mike lay stretched out on the couch, enjoying a bottle of Coke and the latest issue of Melody Maker.

A noise outside told Mike that his too-good-to-last solitude was indeed over. "The door's open...", he called. Moments later, Micky sank down in the neighboring armchair.

"Wow, I got in just in time. It's starting to rain. Hey, you should have come with us tonight."

"Nah, like I told you, Bobby's parties are too far-out for me. Seems like somebody always winds up gettin' naked...or gettin' arrested. So where's Davy?"

"Oh, he was invited to another party; Long Beach or somewhere."

Mike sighed. "Davy's always invited to another party...What about Peter?"

Micky looked vague. "I sort of lost track of him somehow...but he'll turn up. Peter always does." He paused. "Poor Pete – he spent all night making eyes at this cute stewardess named Julie. Trouble was, Julie spent all night making eyes at Bobby's sister Charlene. I finally had to pull him aside and tell him, 'Look, Pete, you're wasting your time. Julie digs chicks.' And then Peter says, 'But that's great, 'cause I dig chicks, too!'"

They groaned in unison. Micky pulled an imaginary shawl over his head and squawked in a creaky falsetto, "I declare, Agatha, I just don't understand young people these days. Girls going with girls, boys going with boys – where will it all end?"

There was a silence; they heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. The room was in shadow, lit only by the lone table lamp. Mike could hardly remember the last time he'd been home alone with Micky; this was very different from the usual cheerful chaos of the Monkee household.

Micky looked quizzical. He said softly, "Mike, have you ever wondered...what it would be like...with another guy?"

Mike's eyes opened wide. "Well, I, uh...well, maybe once or twice...but I'm from Texas, you know." He paused. "What about you?"

Micky gave a half-smile. "Maybe I didn't just wonder..."

"Wow..." Mike was impressed, more than surprised, by this evidence of Micky's worldly knowledge. At the same time, he was becoming acutely aware that the two of them were sitting there, in the quiet semi-darkness.

Then Micky took a deep breath. "Mike...I think it would be...pretty groovy if you and I...got together." He paused. "But only if you want to."

Mike swallowed hard. He grinned, a little nervously. "Why, Mr. Dolenz, you're tryin' to seduce me..." They both laughed uncertainly. "I mean, I'm flattered...I don't know what to say." Suddenly, Mike felt a shyness he couldn't explain, along with a tension in the pit of his stomach. He stared at the rug as though it had just materialized on the floor, then made himself look up into Micky's eyes. They sparkled with mischief and affection. He thought, I'm not supposed to want this, am I? But it's Micky...

"Hey, man, you gotta give me a break. One minute I'm lyin' on the couch readin' about the Walker Brothers; next thing I know you're makin' a pass at me. I'm a little overwhelmedhere..."

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. Maybe I shouldn't have said it."

"No, no, it's all right..." There was another silence; then Mike looked troubled. "But, Micky, I don't know how to kiss a dude..."

His voice was so earnest that Micky chuckled in spite of himself. "Relax, Mike – it's exactly the same..." Then his smile softened and he murmured, "Let me show you. Close your eyes..."

Mike felt Micky's breath on his cheek. Then Micky's lips brushed his; once, twice, very gently.

Mike opened his eyes; Micky was looking at him expectantly. "Uh...can we try that again?"

Micky took Mike's face in his hands. Their lips met, and slowly parted. Mike put his arms around Micky and drew him closer. Their kiss began shy and tentative, then became warm and easy and sure. They both pulled away at exactly the same moment and looked at each other, slightly dazed.

Micky murmured admiringly, "You caught on fast..."

Mike somehow found his voice. "Mick, are you sure it's OK for us to be – doin' this?"

Micky feigned seriousness. "Of course it's OK – you're a Capricorn and I'm a Pisces. That means we're highly compatible."

Afterward, neither Micky nor Mike could remember just how they got upstairs. As if by magic, the two of them were suddenly entwined on Mike's bed. He was deeply absorbed in discovering the taste of Micky's mouth, the softness of his hair, the scent of his skin. He marveled at the strength of Micky's arms and the tenderness of his kisses. For a moment a thought floated through Mike's mind: It's different, but it is exactly the same... Neither of them heard the rain pounding outside.

Micky's fingers toyed with Mike's belt buckle. Suddenly he sat up. "Mike, we don't have to do this, you know. We can still stop if you want to."

Sprawled against the pillows, his hair disheveled and his shirt unbuttoned to his waist, Mike chuckled softly. "Man, does it look like I want to stop?", he asked, his voice husky with pleasure.

"Hold on, I almost forgot the most important thing. Be back in a sec." Mike heard the familiar clang clang as Micky ran down the metal staircase. He returned, carrying a white bottle of Jergens lotion.

Mike looked at the bottle. "You mean...?"

"Uh-huh...", Micky replied. He grinned. "Hey, it's what I use."

Now Mike had entered a new universe, one where nothing existed except the cherry-almond smell of the lotion and Micky's hands stroking him: at first gentle and caressing, then firmer and more insistent. He was vaguely aware, too, of moaning sounds coming from somewhere. Time passed: minutes or hours or days.

"I think...I'm almost there...", Mike panted, his hands clutching the sheets.

"Fantastic...", Micky purred. He bent down and whispered urgently, "I want you to come for me, Mike. Come for me..."

There was one long moment of silence. Then, "Ohmicky...ohmicky...itfeelssogood...ohhhhh..."

Mike lay back, paralyzed and euphoric. Even to open his eyes took more strength than he possessed. He listened to himself breathing harsh, ragged breaths. Meanwhile, Micky was discreetly cleaning up with a handful of tissues from the nightstand.

Micky carefully positioned himself in what little space remained on the bed. He lay on his side, his head on Mike's shoulder, then pulled the blankets over the two of them.

Mike whispered into Micky's curls, "That was incredible, man. You wiped me out..."

Micky smiled to himself in the darkness. "And you thought Bobby's party was too wild..."

They laughed, and moved even closer together under the covers.