Disclaimer: this imagine is NOT MINE. Credit to the original author, an anon on star-collectors. I got this from Tumblr.

Rating: R

This fic has four parts

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{part one}

Today was the day. Of that, Micky was certain. Today was the day because he simply could not contain what he had inside him any longer.

Today was the day that he would finally tell Mike what he actually felt for him.

The drummer gulped and plopped down onto his bed. He thought back to the day he met Mike for the first time. Initially, it had been awkward between them due to Mike's extreme diffidence and Micky's uncertainty as to how to get him to open up. But over time, the Texan slowly allowed many of those barriers to slip which enabled Micky to learn more about the person underneath.

And Micky swiftly found that he liked what he discovered. For starters, Mike was smart. Maybe not smart in the purest academic sense, but definitely intelligent enough to learn quickly and figure things out on his own without instruction. Mike was also funny. Micky had always prided himself on his ability to make people laugh. However, that didn't stop him from being astounded at how Mike could suddenly pull out a hilarious joke or turn of phrase out of nowhere.

Most important of all, though, was the fact that Mike had a heart of gold hidden behind all those layers of detachment and reticence. It showed in the way that he looked after all of them, making sure that they were safe and free of any serious hassles. No matter how many mistakes were made or how much trouble they had gotten themselves into, Mike was always there for them. He supported them, cared for their needs and watched over them with hardly any complaint, even when it meant putting himself out significantly.

Not that his generosity was exclusive to his friends. Mike often extended it to acquaintances and even strangers, helping them out with all sorts of troubles caused by unfortunate events or bad, greedy people. True, all of them liked to help out wherever they could, but Micky noted that Mike seemed passionate about it. He chalked that up to the Texan's innate protective nature.

All of these things made Mike into one of the best friends Micky had ever had. But just as meaningful to him personally as all that was the way that he and Mike seemed to click together. On the surface, they didn't have much in common. Micky's outgoing, playful nature was a sharp contrast to Mike's quiet, serious demeanor.

And yet, neither of them ever felt ill at ease or uncomfortable with these differences. Instead, they seemed to make it even easier for them to get along and deal with each other's quirks. Micky liked to talk, Mike liked to listen. Micky liked to entertain and put on a show for people, Mike liked to keep to the sidelines and watch. Micky was able to bring excitement and fun to Mike's life while Mike gave him some needed stability and security.

Despite all those differences, however; the reality was that they really were not so unalike at the core. They shared similar beliefs about life and the world around them and had many of the same values in regards to their own ethics and personal codes of conduct. The result of all this was that, when they were around each other, it was like there no need for any hang-ups or any reasons to hide themselves away. More than just about anyone else in the world, Micky felt like he could truly be himself around Mike and knew that Mike felt the same about him.

However, there was one particular thing that Micky had made sure to keep from the Texan: that he had developed strong feelings for him. Feelings of love. Love that was different than the one that existed between friends and brothers.

Micky's hands fidgeted in his lap as he let out a long sigh. As strange as it might seem to many who knew him, this wasn't the first time he had felt something like this for a man. Back when he was a teenager in high school, there was a guy who Micky had found unusually attractive. Nothing came of it though, due to Micky keeping his feelings to himself and the guy moving away after only a few months. At the time, he had been scared and confused by it, but later on, he had talked to a couple friends who made it clear that what he had felt wasn't all that unusual. However, by the time he had had those conversations, his interest had long since shifted back to girls. Thus, Micky didn't dwell on it much and chalked it up as a one-time thing. He learned to accept it, but was pretty sure that it wouldn't happen again.

All that changed when he met Mike. From the beginning, Micky had been enchanted by Mike's rich, chocolate-brown eyes and the way that his raven-colored hair contrasted with his pale skin. To Micky, Mike was unbelievably handsome and he was never surprised when the girls took notice of the tall Texan even when Mike seemed clueless about the attention.

What did surprise Micky was how infrequently Mike took advantage of all that attention. Dates were rare for Mike and any kind of continuing relationship was even rarer. Instead, Mike spent most of his time with him, Davy and Peter. Not that Micky minded. Truthfully, Micky was thrilled that Mike was always eager to hang around him and was pleased at how close they had become.

Still, Micky also couldn't deny that he wanted more. A lot more. The feelings he had for Mike were much more powerful than the ones he had felt for the guy he had known in high school. They were even stronger than any he had had for any of the girls he had dated in the past. Micky was confused again and wondered if this was what it was like to be completely smitten with someone.

So far, he had kept this a carefully guarded secret, terrified that he could lose Mike's friendship if his feelings weren't reciprocated. However, it was getting harder and harder for Micky to hide those feelings. He knew that he would have to say something soon before the truth came out in some other unintentional way.

Micky's hands finally became still as he took a couple deep breaths. He tried to tell himself that it would be all right. He was confident that he knew Mike well enough to know that he was not the kind of person who would look down on a guy for having these feelings for another man. Micky suspected that the Texan would be understanding even if he didn't share Micky's feelings or was weirded out by them.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a little spark of something inside Mike for him. After all, it hadn't escaped Micky's notice that Mike seemed to have little to no reservations about invading his personal space and was quite fond of touching him. Whether it was a reassuring hand to his shoulder, a secure arm around his waist or fingers that casually ran across his skin, Mike was very tactile with him. Again, Micky didn't mind it and enjoyed the attention. Still, he couldn't help but speculate that perhaps there was more to these touches than just friendship.  

However, Micky was also aware that he could reading far more into Mike's actions than what was really there. It was true that Mike scarcely dated, but so far he had only showed an interest in women. The drummer knew that it was entirely plausible that someone as guarded and insecure of relationships as Mike could be severely uncomfortable with someone he regarded as a friend showing a romantic interest in him. It wasn't hard for Micky to imagine a declaration of his true feelings backfiring horribly and causing an abrupt end to their close camaraderie.

Micky closed his eyes for a second and took one last deep breath before reopening them. In spite of all these risks, he was certain that he was doing the right thing. Continuing to keep his feelings a secret felt more and more like lying every day and Micky was convinced that Mike did not deserve to have someone who was such an intimate part of his life going out of his way to deceive him.

Decision made, Micky stood up and walked out of the bedroom he shared with Mike. Davy was out on a date that and wasn't expected back until late tonight. Peter had left town earlier that day with a couple friends to attend a folk music festival. It was just him and Mike at the pad right now.

Micky slid down the banister of the spiral staircase. Once he landed on the floor of the main room, he walked toward the sound of Mike playing his blonde Gretch. He found the Texan sitting on the floor near the balcony. Micky didn't recognize the tune and guessed that he was in the process of writing a new song.

His palms sweaty, Micky ambled over to him. As he approached, Mike looked up and acknowledged him with a nod and a slight smile. Seeing that smile made Micky think about how much he loved how Mike always looked happy to see him.

He just hoped that would continue to be true after the conversation that was to come.

"Hey Mike," he smiled back as he sat down next to him. "What'cha doing? Is that the song you said you were working on a couple days?"

"Yeah," Mike replied, looking down the neck of his guitar. "I don't think it's goin' work out though. I can't seem to get the right groove for the bridge."

"Aw don't worry about it," Micky scoffed. "You'll figure it out. What I heard so far sounded really groovy."

Mike smiled again as he looked off to the side. Micky knew that Mike was usually embarrassed by people complimenting him even though Micky was pretty sure that that Mike was secretly pleased. It was another trait on a list of many that he found endearing about the Texan.

The drummer clasped his hands onto his knees in an effort to stop them from shaking before speaking again.

"Um, Mike...I...I, uh...."

Mike looked up and swiveled toward Micky to face him.

"What Mick?" he drawled. Suddenly the air in the room seemed to be in very short supply to Micky.

"I...well, I wanted to..." the drummer stuttered. "I mean, what I wanted to say was that...."

Mike continued to stare intently, patiently waiting for him to get the words out. While Micky normally enjoyed gazing into those gorgeous eyes, right now it did nothing to calm his nerves.

"I wanted...I want to ask you...."

"Ask me what?" Mike echoed.

"To ask you...if you want to go swimming!" Micky blurted out. Inwardly, he was kicking himself for not saying what he had planned to say. Although, the warm smile that Mike gave him was certainly a nice consolation prize.

"Sure," the Texan said, sitting his guitar aside.

Micky continued to berate himself even as he smiled back and jumped to his feet to go change.

A few minutes later, the two of them had switched into their swim trunks and were running on the beach. They dived into the ocean simultaneously. Micky splashed along the surface while Mike went straight downward. A few seconds, Mike reemerged from under the water. Micky was captivated by the way Mike's dark hair shimmered in the sun as it framed his face and with how droplets that clung to his skin made his body glisten. The Texan shook his head and beamed at Micky which nearly took the drummer's breath away.

"Come on, Mick," he said, motioning with his hand. Micky nodded mutely and followed Mike as he swam farther from the shore.

They stayed in the water for a while, swimming, floating along the surface, and sometimes diving down to see who could stay under longer. As they made their way back to the beach, they made a game of splashing each other and trying to dunk each other's head underwater. By the time they arrived at the shore, they were both laughing giddily.

Micky stumbled over and snatched up his towel from the sand. He watched as Mike scrubbed at his hair and body with his own towel. The Texan looked relaxed and happy; two things Micky was convinced Mike needed more of in his life. The drummer thought that Mike did not laugh enough and took everything way too seriously. It was always a thrill for Micky when he managed to find a way to get Mike to loosen up and have some fun.

 After drying off and gathering up their towels, the two of them walked back to the beach house. Once inside, Mike slipped on a light jacket and roughly ran the towel through his hair a couple more times.

"Davy probably won't be back any time soon," Mike drawled. "And Pete acted like he probably won't be back 'til tomorrow. That leaves us on our own for dinner. Any ideas?"

"Uh no," Micky shrugged. "Just whatever we have in the fridge, I guess."

"Well, there's not much there," Mike said. "But I think I can whip up something from the cupboards. How about some....?"

"Mike," Micky interrupted. "I...I like you."

Mike raised an eyebrow in surprise, another trace of a smile on his lips.

"Well, I like you too, Micky," Mike responded. "You're probably my best friend in the world."

Micky gulped. The sincerity in the Texan's words touched him while also making him worry that he was about to make a mistake. Still, he was determined to press on.

"No," Micky said. "I mean, I like you, but not...not just like that...."

Micky's words trailed off awkwardly while Mike's expression suddenly became far more serious and unreadable.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, his tone demanding rather than questioning. Micky cleared his throat loudly.

"I mean, I really, really like you as a friend," Micky continued. "Like a best friend. But I...I also like you in another way. Like...like in a 'being more than just friends' kind of way. I...I'm saying that I want to be with you...and not as a friend."

Micky watched Mike's eyes widen as the meaning behind his words finally sank in. There was still a flutter of hope stirring in the drummer's chest while he waited for Mike to respond. The words had been clumsy and rambling, but they were also heartfelt. Micky wanted to believe that that would be enough.

However, that hope was quickly dashed away when Mike looked over at him and Micky flinched in response. He had never seen the Texan's eyes look so cold and hard before.

"What are you playing at, Micky?" he growled.

"Me?! Nothing!" Micky squeaked. "I just...I just thought that...."

"You thought what?" Mike cut in. "That I'd think this was funny? Well you thought wrong, Micky. It's ain't. Not even close. And if this is your idea of a joke...then I wonder if I really know you like I thought I did."

Micky's mouth hung open. He struggled to understand how this conversation could have gone so badly and wondered how he could possibly make this right again.

"Mike, no...I..." he spluttered. "I didn't mean to...."

But Mike did not give him a chance to finish. He stormed out of the kitchen and walked out of the pad, slamming the door leading from the balcony behind him. A couple moments after he was gone, Micky sank down to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' he thought to himself. 'Why did I tell him any of that stuff? I should have kept my mouth shut. At least that way, we still could have been friends. But now....'

Micky fell back onto his bottom and pulled his legs closer to his chest while wrapping his arms around his shins. He started to shake, but not from the chill of wearing wet clothes.

'What am I going to do?' he asked himself. 'Mike's so angry. I don't know if he's going to forgive me for this. What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't want to be anywhere near me anymore? What if he doesn't even want to be friends anymore?'

'What if...what if he hates me now?'

Micky sniffed hard and pushed his face against his legs. As hard as it had been to hide his feelings for Mike, he now realized that that had been a hundred times easier to deal with than the pain he felt now. He wanted to rush outside and try to explain himself to Mike, but was scared that he'd only make things worse.  Micky trembled even more as a pair of tears slipped out of his eyes.

Micky was miserable. Miserable and alone.

And he no idea how he could ever feel better again.

{part two}

Almost a mile away from the beach house, Mike dragged his feet through the sand, his gait unsteady. There was no one else on this stretch of beach which he was supremely thankful for because he was certain that he couldn't handle other people right now.

Eventually, he sat down on a large, flat rock and stared out at the water. His hands had curled into fists as he had raced out of the pad and were still bunched up tightly. His breaths came out in shudders as he worked to regain his composure.

But every time he started to feel a little calmer, Micky's words would come back to him, causing his heart to drop in his chest. He still couldn't believe that the drummer had actually said those things to him and thought that this had to be some kind of a cruel trick. Or maybe it was a nightmare that was playing on all his worst fears.

And a large part of what fueled this belief was the fact that those things Micky said...those feelings he had talked about...were the same exact feelings Mike had for Micky.

Mike blinked hard and bowed his head. He remembered the moment when he realized that his feelings for Micky had grown into something more than friendship. It had happened quite a while ago, but he had been extra careful to make sure no one knew about it. Especially not Micky. His first reaction had been one of anger and guilt. Anger at himself for having feelings like that for his best friend. Guilt that some part of him had taken the kindness Micky had shown him and had twisted it into something that it was never intended to be.

The Texan felt a wetness sting his eyes, his hands gripping the edges of his jacket. When he had first met Micky, he had been surprised and bewildered by him. He hadn't met anyone like Micky in the small town in Texas where he grew up. Nor had he run across anyone like him in all the time he had spent in California before they had met. Micky was so...buoyant.  So cheerful and carefree. It was impossible to not catch a little of that positivity just by being around him. All of this was accentuated by the drummer's goofy sense of humor and the way that he was so friendly toward and interested in the people around him. Life seemed to be one big adventure to Micky with the way he found joy in the simplest things and was always eager for new experiences.

Even more amazing to Mike was how someone like Micky didn't seem to be put off by his taciturn nature or his strange quirks. Mike was used to being ignored, belittled, and rejected due to his painfully shy, eccentric ways. But Micky had not let any of those qualities bother him. Instead of giving up when Mike kept himself closed off, Micky simply tried harder to make Mike feel welcome and accepted. It wasn't easy for Mike to let go of the defenses he had clung to for so long, but eventually he allowed Micky in. And the drummer had responded with even more compassion and concern than Mike had thought possible. No one, other than perhaps his mother, had treated him with so much care. It had also made it easier for him to open up to Peter and Davy and become closer to them as well, all of which made him happier than he had ever been.

Mike swallowed hard. He still didn't know what Micky saw in him or why he invested so much time and energy into their friendship. He just tried to focus on being grateful that he had someone in his life who he could trust and be himself around and on doing his best to be a good friend in return.

Over time though, those feelings of friendship became more intense and morphed into something he had never felt before. Mike soon realized that he didn't just like Micky as a friend or even as a brother. When he looked at Micky, he found himself captivated by the sparkle in the drummer's almond shaped eyes or by the sweet smiles that he often had on his face. Sometimes he had an overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around Micky and pour out his heart to him. Mike wanted share everything with Micky and hold nothing back.

Including the feelings of love that he had developed for him.

It was this last part that was the most confusing and frustrating of all to Mike. He had never liked guys before. Not like that. He had only been interested in women. True, he didn't get many chances to try his luck with the girls and none of the ones he did manage to date held his interest for very long. They were usually pretty and nice enough and he liked spending time with them. But they never made him feel anything beyond a vague sort of pleasure over having some company for a while.  

Still, Mike figured that was because he hadn't found the right girl yet. Although he didn't consider his prospects to be very good, he had held onto to the hope that someday he'd find a woman who made him feel all those passionate emotions that he had heard about so many times from other people.

Thus, it was more than a little shocking to him when he discovered that he finally did have those feelings...and that they were for his best friend.

At first, Mike tried to tell himself that it wasn't real. He had been almost unbearably lonely before he had met Micky and for some reason his heart had gotten mixed up. Somehow he had confused friendly camaraderie with romantic intimacy. It wasn't long though before he was forced to admit that the attraction he felt, both physical and emotional, was all too genuine.

Ashamed of how he felt, Mike then tried to push it down, to lock it away, in the hope that by depriving those feelings of any outlet, they would eventually wither and die.

However, even his best efforts weren't enough to stop him from expressing his feelings in a thousand little, subtle ways. The smiles he gave Micky whenever he saw him, the constant protectiveness, the way he would watch Micky while the drummer was engaged in mundane activities like sleeping or eating, and all the times when he would touch Micky any or no reason.  All of it was infused with the love he was trying to keep hidden.

Mike could see how badly he was failing in his efforts to stifle these feelings, but couldn't bring himself to put a halt to what he was doing. Being with Micky was wonderful and soothing and intoxicating. It was something Mike wanted and needed more than anything. No matter how many times his mind tried to tell him that this was dangerous, his heart would not let him stop. He was only able to get by with his sanity intact because he had convinced himself that Micky didn't know the truth and never would.

But now this had happened, and Mike was forced to confront the possibility that Micky might know something about his true feelings after all.

The Texan blinked again, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. He couldn't understand why Micky had said what he did and was desperately searching to find an answer to the doubts and fears flooding his mind.

 A part of him thought that maybe Micky did this because he had noticed all the touching and displays of affection and was letting Mike know how it was coming off.  Micky was always trying to diffuse tense situations with a joke and so it was possible that the drummer saw this as a way to clue Mike in on how his actions could be perceived rather than confronting him directly about his behavior. Granted, it was a crass way to go about it, but Micky did not always know when to stop with the jokes and jabs.

'But that's not Micky,' a voice inside him piped up. 'Micky might go a little far with the wisecracks sometimes, but he wouldn't make fun of a person for truly loving someone. Not like this. That's cold and spiteful...and Micky is neither of those things.'

Mike sighed. As much as he wanted to buy into the rational explanation he had come up with, he could not do it. Bitter experience had made it easy for Mike to consider adding Micky to the list of people who had let him down and turned their backs on him. Despite the temptation, however; Mike found that he still believed in Micky and believed that he was different from the people he had dealt with before. But then again, Mike couldn't think of any other reason for Micky's actions. Unless....

Unless Micky was telling him the truth: that he really was interested in him in a romantic sense.

The Texan let out a snort of disgust. That seemed even less likely than his other explanation. It was incredible enough that Micky was able to regard him as a close friend. No way could the drummer see him as something more than that. It wasn't possible. It couldn't happen. 

 'But what if it did happen?'

Mike clenched his hands again. He knew that was the voice of wishful thinking and he did his best to ignore it. Micky was vibrant, funny and generous. People were drawn to him and wanted to be around him. He was also gorgeous. Mike had certainly noticed how Micky was able to rival Davy at getting the girls interested in him. There were even a couple times when Mike was pretty sure that more than one guy had their eyes on the drummer as well. And whenever Micky sang, Mike was convinced that he had one of the most beautiful voices he had ever heard.

'He probably could have anyone he really wanted,' he told himself. 'Any girl...or any guy if that's what he's into. Why would he want a scrawny, ugly, loser like me?'

'But what if he does? What if Micky meant what he said?'

  As much as he was in turmoil over the idea that Micky had played a thoughtless prank on him, this alternate explanation was too terrible to contemplate. The idea that what he had yearned for and dreamed of had just been offered to him and that he might have thrown it all away made him physically ill.

However, now that the thought had entered his head, it would not leave. He kept dwelling on the possibility that his fear and his incompetence at navigating close personal relationships had caused him to make one of the biggest mistakes of his life. The thought made his heart feel like it was crumbling into pieces, but it wasn't completely surprising to him.

After all, there was a reason he had spent so many years alone. More than one reason really. There had to be. And this moment was probably the best example he could get of why that was. He simply was no good at this sort of thing. It was sometimes a struggle for him to find the best ways to maintain his friendships with the guys. It was a thoroughly worthwhile struggle that he did not mind to be sure, but it was a struggle nevertheless. Although, it did seem like it was getting easier with time. But this, this was something even more complicated and delicate, and the Texan did not think that he was up to the task at all.

Mike rubbed his red, wet eyes and took several shaky breaths. It took a long while, but eventually, he was able to push this idea out of his brain. Once he had regained some calm, he could focus on the problems at hand: figuring out why Micky had said what he did and finding a way to fix the situation between them.  He thought that he had developed some insight into how the guys' minds worked, but this time he was at a loss to understand what had motivated Micky to act that way.  Still, Mike was determined to not give up so easily. His friendship with Micky meant too much to him to do that. He would just have to devote a lot of time toward some serious thinking.

As to how to fix things...that was a thornier problem. Mike knew that he had been harsh to Micky and had probably hurt the drummer's feelings. He felt terrible over doing that and wished he could make amends. He thought about apologizing, but wasn't sure how to do it while still making it clear that he didn't think much of what Micky had done.

For now, the best solutions seemed to be putting this conflict aside for the moment and placing some barriers between himself and Micky. Jumping back into this situation without time to completely cool off and think about it would be disastrous. Mike need time to work this out and the process would be a lot easier if he wasn't quite so close to the source of the problem. Granted, it wasn't like he could just take off and leave the guys alone. They had gigs coming up and desperately needed the money. Not to mention the fact that Mike saw it as his responsibility to look after his friends and make sure that they stayed out of trouble.

However, that didn't mean that Mike couldn't find ways to keep himself separate from Micky until he found some solutions. The truth was, Mike was an expert at remaining distant and detached from the people around him. He would just have to revive some old habits for now until he could straighten this out.    

A cool breeze blew up from the ocean, causing Mike to shiver. He would have to go back to the pad eventually and face Micky, but he wasn't ready. Not yet. He was determined to wait until he was certain that he could hold onto the familiar stoic demeanor he knew he would need to don in order to regain some order in his life and in the guys' life as well.

Mike pulled his jacket closer to him. It didn't really make him feel any warmer. He doubted that he would be able to feel like that any time soon. Not until he found a way to clean up this mess. There was still that nagging voice at the back of his mind that kept telling him that he had gotten it wrong and that it wasn't too late to rectify this mistake. But it was getting weaker with every layer of indifference Mike wrapped his heart up in. He would eventually be able to smother it completely. It would just take time. Until then, he would let nothing...or no one...touch him.

He'd find a way to fix this.

He had to.  

{part three}

The next three days were wretched for Micky.

After confessing his feelings to Mike and watching him march out of the pad, Micky ended up waiting four hours for Mike to return. When he finally did show up, Micky thought about trying to deny everything he had said or attempting to explain himself better. However, the cool, impassive look that the Texan had on his face sapped away his courage to act.

The rest of the evening did not go any better with Mike making himself a sandwich and then wordlessly working on his music while pointedly shutting Micky out. Micky tried to occupy his time by reading a book and then working on a radio he had taken apart, but neither of them could distract him from the pain he felt inside. Barely ten words passed between them before Mike went upstairs to bed. Micky stayed up for a while after that and half-heartedly watched some television. Eventually, he gave into exhaustion and dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom. Mike was facing the wall as he slept, making it easy for Micky to slink into bed and hide his face under the blanket.

After that, life returned to normal. At least on the surface. Davy and Peter arrived back at the pad, and Mike interacted with them as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The four of them continued to look for work and rehearse for gigs just as they did before.

However, there was one notable twist to this façade of normalcy. That was with how Mike interacted with Micky.

For the most part, nothing looked too unusual about it. Mike was civil when he spoke to him, but would only talk to him when it was unavoidable. Otherwise, Mike would only speak to Micky if Micky initiated the conversation and then any responses would be short and to the point. Mike would still share meals, rehearse for gigs, and run errands with Micky. However, Mike also made sure to never end up alone with him. The only time Mike would allow that to happen was when they slept in their bedroom. Even then, Mike would always go to bed after Micky had and would rise before the drummer woke up.  Gone were the shared jokes and laughter, the long talks they used to have, and the casual moments of affection, both physical and verbal.

By the morning of the fourth day of this, Micky was thoroughly depressed. He tried to tell himself that he should be grateful that Mike didn't blow up at him, run off, or do something even worse. Still, that thought was far from enough to extinguish the hurt he felt over the loss of his best friend. Mike might have been physically present in the pad, but to Micky, he might as well as been a million miles away. And Micky missed Mike terribly.

The drummer let out a sigh and slowly opened his eyes. He didn't feel like facing the morning yet, so he rolled over and buried his face into his pillow. As he burrowed into the fabric, he let his mind wander.

Recently, Micky had taken to dwelling on thoughts about Mike as a way to deal with the hurt. He would remember some of the best gigs they played. Micky smiled a little as he heard Mike's guitar playing or his voice singing in his head. He knew that Mike didn't think much of his own voice, but Micky always loved how the twang of his accent highlighted the heartfelt intensity that the Texan brought to his vocal performances.

Other times, Micky would think about the fun times they had had together with his focus soon narrowing onto Mike himself. Micky would bring up memories of the Texan's smiles. The slight, bashful smiles that Mike would get when someone showed some kindness toward him. And the wide, joyful smiles that would light up Mike's face when he laughed or was truly happy for some other reason. Those latter smiles would often spread to the Texan's eyes, filling them with a glow that Micky thought was magical.

No matter what he chose to dwell on though, these thoughts would inevitably become much more sensual in nature. Now that Mike made sure to never touch him, Micky would spend a lot of time thinking about Mike's hands. He wallowed in memories of fingertips calloused by guitar playing touching his face, his hands and his arms and shoulders. Mike's hands were always warm and comforting. They were strong, but gentle.

It wouldn't be long before Micky contemplated what it would be like for Mike's hands to touch him in far less chaste places. He thought about Mike reaching for his shirt buttons, but instead of fiddling with them as he usually did, Micky fantasized about Mike slipping them open so he could run his hands over Micky's bare chest. Then he thought about those hands going lower, tugging at his belt, fumbling with his zipper, and sliding into his pants. Frequently, Micky would have to bite back a moan when he thought about Mike touching him, caressing him with his long fingers, pumping him hard with his usual firm, but gentle grip.

These thoughts would often be accompanied by fantasies of what Mike's lips would feel like on his mouth, his neck or any other available inch of skin. Micky got increasingly flushed as he thought about that hot, wet tongue tasting him, swirling over a nipple or forcing its way between his lips. When Micky felt particularly needy, he fantasized about what Mike's mouth might feel like on one body part in particular.

Back in the real world, Micky groaned and shifted around under the covers again. To his dismay, he soon realized that he now had a raging hard-on straining the fabric of his pajama bottoms. The drummer was fairly certain that indulging in sexual fantasies about someone he was trying to be "just friends" with again was not the best coping strategy. However, rationality and Micky Dolenz were often not the closest of companions.

Micky looked down at his pants and sighed. This 'morning salute' was not going away any time soon, so he decided that he might as well do something about it before getting up for the day. It had become hot and uncomfortable under the blanket, so he poked his head out and rolled onto his back.

 He was in for a shock, however, when he let his head loll to the side and discovered that he wasn't alone. Mike was still in bed, fast asleep.

Micky almost gasped in surprise, but managed to suppress it at the last second. Mike was a light sleeper most of the time. Thus, Micky was aware that even the smallest noise had the potential to wake the Texan up.

His most current problem almost forgotten, Micky turned over onto his side so he could watch Mike sleep. For a fleeting moment, he thought about jerking himself off while staring at Mike's sleeping face, but something about that felt wrong, like he would be taking advantage of Mike somehow. Instead, he decided to ignore the nagging sensation in his crotch and continue to gaze at the man across from him.

Now that he had some time to gather his thoughts, Micky realized how strange it was that Mike was still in bed. Normally, Mike would be awake for a while by now and would be puttering away downstairs getting breakfast ready for all of them or doing some other chore. The concept of sleeping in was never one that was particularly salient to Mike. The only times he did sleep in was when he was sick, which was extremely rare, or when he was exhausted from a lack of sleep.

Judging from the lack of any signs of illness recently and the dark circles starting to form under Mike's eyes, Micky guessed that it was the latter of those two reasons at work here. It wasn't hard for the drummer to figure out that it probably had something to do with what happened a few days ago. What Micky could not fathom was why he hadn't noticed how disturbed Mike's state of mind was before now.

Micky felt his eyes water up. He knew from experience that Mike would sometimes have nightmares if the thoughts in his head were too overwhelming. Although the Texan did not show any dramatic reactions to these bad dreams, they were enough to wake him with a violent, full-body flinch and then keep him awake for most of the night. He suspected that this might have been the reason why Mike slept in a tight ball and why his hands gripped his pillow close to his face. So as to muffle any sounds he might make during the night.

He also knew that Mike would refuse to talk about his bad dreams if confronted, so there was no point in asking. Nevertheless, Micky wished he could make all the nightmares in Mike's head go away somehow. He longed to join Mike in his bed, but not in a sexual way this time. Micky wanted to hold Mike while he slept and murmur words of comfort into his ear. Anything to help soothe Mike's troubled mind so he could truly rest.

Micky stretched a hand out toward the Texan. When he held it in front of his eyes in a certain way, it almost looked like his hand was hovering over Mike's head. He knew that there was no way that he would dare going through with the real thing, so Micky let his hand move back and forth in the air, making it look as if he was stroking Mike's hair.  He wished that, somehow, this pretend gesture of affection could reach Mike and that he would feel some tiny measure of comfort.

Mike stirred slightly and Micky immediately turned over and hid under the blankets again. He listened, holding his breath, to the sound of Mike sitting up in his bed. The Texan let out a yawn and Micky heard him fling his covers aside. There were a couple creaks in the floor as Mike left the room. Then there was silence again.

Micky swallowed hard. He was certain that Mike was in so much distress because he had declared his love for him. It had profoundly upset the Texan and had needlessly complicated their friendship. Micky deeply regretted saying anything to Mike and was still wondering if there was any way he could take back those words.

Micky shoved his blankets off. He still didn't want to get up, but it wasn't as if that was really an option. A part of him wished that he could talk to someone, like maybe Davy or Peter, about this, but he sure that that wouldn't be a good idea either.

He would simply have to find a way to get through another lonely day.

Later that evening, they were playing another gig at the Vincent Van Gogh-Gogh. They had become popular semi-regulars at the club and so the crowd tended to be enthusiastic whenever they were there. Micky was still somewhat distracted by the things going on in his life, but the chance to play and sing helped him feel better for a while.

The set had gone well. Davy and Peter were keeping the energy of the group and the crowd up, and Micky found that he was able to draw from the energy and add some of his own. Mike was more subdued than usual, but his guitar playing was as accomplished as ever which ensured that they still sounded great. Still, Micky had noted that Mike had chosen to sing even less songs than usual for this concert, choosing instead to remain in the background.

Toward the end of their gig, they walked off stage for a moment to take a breath before going back out for an encore. Davy had encouraged Mike to pick a song to sing lead on since he had not sung much that night. Mike had visibly tensed up at the suggestion, but had eventually agreed to it. When they stepped back out to finish their set, Mike whispered his choice into Davy's ear. Davy then mouthed it to Peter and then to Micky, who nodded in response. The drummer counted down with a series of taps before they started the song.

Micky had been somewhat surprised by Mike's selection. It wasn't a song they included in their set very often, even though people seemed to like it. For a moment, he thought about why the Texan had chosen it while watching Mike move closer to the microphone.

"Life is hard for me to touch now/ I just don't enjoy it as much now...."

Micky gulped. He was certain that the audience wouldn't notice it. He also doubted that most of the people who knew them would be able to see it. But for Micky, who knew Mike better than almost anyone in the world, it was clear for him to see what was going on in front of him. The slight hitch in Mike's breathing, the way his shoulders shuddered just a bit as he played...Micky could see all of it for what it was.

Mike wasn't just singing a song. He was pouring out what he was feeling inside into the music.

Micky felt his throat tighten, but made sure to keep most of his focus on his playing. It wasn't unusual for Mike to put a part of himself into their songs. The Texan often used music as his main emotional outlet, especially when going through some difficulty in his personal life. Right now, it was clear to Micky that Mike was devastated by something and was letting the lyrics of the song speak for him.

"There's no end to my sorrow/ I'm afraid to face tomorrow...."

Micky watched Mike intently while the Texan played. Mike was standing to the side so that he only partially faced the audience. From this angle, Micky could see his profile and part of his face while he played.  When he wasn't singing, Mike kept his eyes firmly locked on the neck of his guitar. During those times when he did have to face the crowd more, Micky could see that he was hooding his eyes slightly, a way to hide from the people watching him even as he sang to them. He figured that Mike was still upset over what had happened between them, but something about how the Texan was expressing his emotions through the music made Micky question if it really was anger, frustration or confusion that was causing Mike so much turmoil like he had previously thought.

No, this felt more like grief. Grief and an aching sense of loss and emptiness.

"It isn't easy to forget her/ And the way it used to be/ She changed my life the day I met her...."

Micky gulped. He knew that it was strange to think this, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Mike was singing about someone in particular...and that it wasn't a girl. Somewhere, deep inside, Micky could have sworn that Mike might have been singing about him.

'Yeah right,' he scoffed inwardly. 'You've been spending a little too much time in your fantasy world there, Dolenz. Mike's not into guys. And he's certainly not interested in you that way. He made that very clear.'

'And yet....'

Micky furrowed his eyebrows together. Even though he was pretty sure that this was a ridiculous notion, he was forced to admit that it did explain a lot in regards to Mike's recent behavior. Was it possible that Mike was hurting because he wanted to be with him in the same way Micky was longing for in regards to him? But then why did Mike react the way he did when he told him how he felt?

The drummer frowned for a second before shifting his attention back toward his drumming and interacting with the crowd. He was definitely confused again. And now he faced a new wrinkle to his dilemma: should he go through with his original plan of finding some way to dismiss and deny the things he said to Mike? Or should he try harder to let Mike know how he really felt? Micky was desperate to not screw up again and make things even worse. But now he also wasn't sure about which course of action he should take.

"When she left/ Something inside of me died/ And I won't be the same without her...."

Micky let out a deep breath. He knew he would have to act soon. The situation simply could not go on the way it was. Something was crushing Mike inside and Micky was scared that the Texan would eventually shatter under the weight of it.

He just wished that someone would tell him what it was that he should do.  

 "Hey Micky, have you noticed something strange about Mike lately?"

Micky blinked hard. By now, they had finished the gig a couple hours ago and were back at the pad, lounging around the front room. Peter was off in the corner playing something for Mike on his guitar while Davy and Micky were watching a movie on television. Having gotten a bonus in their pay that night, they had splurged by bringing home some pizzas and sodas to enjoy while they relaxed after their concert.

Currently, Micky was nibbling at a bit of crust when Davy suddenly leaned over and tapped his shoulder while speaking in a low voice. Davy's question made Micky abruptly swallow the rest of what he was eating, causing him to choke momentarily.

"What, what do you mean?" the drummer spluttered. Davy glanced back, making sure that Mike was still distracted by what Peter was doing before continuing.

"Pete and I have been talking," he said. "Mike's been acting...I don't know, different somehow. Off his bird, you know. I mean, he's always a lil' weird and reserved, but these days it's like he's got something heavy on his mind, and we were wondering if you knew what it was."

"N-no," Micky lied. "No idea. You know Mike. He's always keeping things to himself."

"That's true all right," Davy said thoughtfully, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. "Still, there's got to be something we can do. If only we could figure out what was bothering him."

Micky took a long swig of his soda, hoping that Davy didn't notice that his hand was shaking while he did it.

"Although...I think I've got an idea of what it could be," Davy added. Micky surprised himself by holding back the urge to do a spit take then and there.

"You do?!" he yelped.

Davy waved his hands at him while shushing him. He and Micky looked over to see Peter and Mike staring at them. Davy plastered a fake grin on his face and waved at them. Mike and Peter shrugged in response and went back to what they were doing.

"I got a theory anyway," Davy said in a hushed tone. "You remember that gig we played last week? That one at the Cheetah Club?"

"Yeah," Micky said, nodding absently, scratching his head. "Sort of."

"You remember that guy who hassled us when we went to get our money from the owner?" Davy continued. "That one who claimed to be some kind of big-shot agent?"

"Oh yeah, I remember that jerk," Micky snorted. "You know, I did a little checking up on him. Turns out he's a third rate hipster who hasn't gotten any of his clients a record deal for two years. I told ya he was talking shit, didn't I?"

"You did," Davy agreed. "But I also remember what he said to Mike. Calling him a 'hick' who 'had no business singing in a rock and roll band'."

Micky nodded silently while gritting his teeth at the memory. At the time, he'd been furious at the horrible things that the guy had said to Mike and had had one of his drumsticks raised up, ready to strike. And he would have too if Peter hadn't noticed in time and had grabbed his arm at the last minute. For his part, Mike had stood there and said little other than a couple of well-placed wisecracks. The Texan appeared unperturbed by it, but Micky was certain that that was not entirely true.

"And I know that you know that Mike is a bit touchy about people making fun of his voice," Davy said. "He'll never say it, but you and I both know that he hates it when people treat him like a hillbilly or something."

Davy leaned closer and flicked his eyes back to check on Peter and Mike before continuing.

"I think that's a big part of what eating at him," he mumbled. "I think that guy making fun of him got to him a lot more than he let on. I'm telling you, he can't stand people mocking him like that."

Micky nodded like he agreed even though he doubted that was what was actually going on. After all, it wasn't as if he could tell Davy the truth about the situation.

But something about Davy's words resonated with him, nagging at some corner of his mind. He leaned back in his chair as he tried to work out what his brain was trying to tell him.

"...he can't stand people mocking him like that...."

"You thought what? That'd I think this was funny?"

"And if this is your idea of a joke...then I wonder if I really know you like I thought I did."

Micky's eyes widened as he thought back to what Mike had said to him, his stomach churning as he realized what it all meant.

'Is that what he thinks? Did he think I was making fun of him somehow? Does he think it was some kind of horribly mean trick?'

Micky put aside his plate of food, suddenly not hungry anymore. In reality, he wasn't all that surprised by this idea. From what he had been able to glean about the Texan's background, plenty of people had been cruel to Mike when he was growing up. He could easily imagine someone trying to make a prank out of getting him think that someone liked him when they didn't really back when he was in high school. Thus, Micky could see where his confession of love, especially given how he had never shown any interest in guys before, could have been taken as some kind of twisted joke. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him and that made Micky sick at heart.

"Micky? Hey Micky?"

Micky shook his head slightly and looked over at Davy who had concern etched into his features.

"Yeah, what?" the drummer said.

"You sure you're feeling all right?" the English boy said. "Come to think of it, you've been acting kind of weird lately too."

"Me? I'm fine," Micky laughed, hoping that it didn't sound too forced. "I, I'm just worried about Mike too, ya know."

That wasn't totally a lie, and Micky was pleased when Davy appeared to believe him.

"We should try to come up with a way to make him feel better," Davy said. "Any ideas?"

"Not...right now, no," Micky said, hesitant. "But I'll let you know."

"Right," Davy said. "And Peter and I will be putting our heads together too on this. Hopefully we can come up with something. Mike's been right miserable these last few days. He shouldn't have to feel like that."

'No he shouldn't,' Micky silently agreed. Then he and Davy went back to watching the TV with the drummer only partially paying attention as he continued to mull over the situation.

It was risky. Incredibly risky. But now Micky was convinced that he had to make sure that Mike understood that what he had told him was not a joke. That it was real. He was aware that their friendship was already on precarious ground, but it was still a risk he was willing to take.

No matter what happened...no matter how much Mike might hate him for it...Micky was going to make sure that the Texan knew just deep and genuine his love for him really was.   

{part four}

The next day was a lazy one at the pad. The guys already had a pair of gigs lined up for the weekend, and with the extra money they had made last night, there was not as much urgency to look for their next job. Granted, that did not stop Mike from checking the papers and local music magazines for some leads, but Davy managed to pull him away after an hour of this so they could all hang out at the beach for a while.

Later that evening, Davy suggested that they go to a new club that a friend of his suggested. Peter and Micky immediately agreed, but Mike declined.

"I'm all wore out from this afternoon," he told them. "I think I'll hang out here and get some things done. Y'all go have a good time."

Davy shook his head, frustrated that his latest plan to improve Mike's mood had failed.

"All right," he said. "You take it easy and we'll see you later, Mike."

With that, Davy, Peter and Micky all left the pad together. However, as they made their way to the car, Micky paused and cleared his throat.

"Hey guys, do you mind if I skip going too," he said. Both Davy and Peter blinked in surprise.

"You sure?" Davy asked. "I heard that the band tonight they've got is really groovy. And that the birds that hang out there are top rate."

"Come on, Micky," Peter said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Pete," Micky said, patting the bassist's arm. "But I just remembered that there's something I need to do."

"Can't it wait 'til tomorrow?" Davy asked.

"Not really," Micky sighed. "You see, there's someone else involved and well...I really don't want to make them wait."

"Oh I get it," Davy smiled slyly. "You've got someone you want to hook up with."

"You could say that," Micky said, this throat suddenly very dry.

"Ah well, that's another story, isn't it?" Davy chuckled. He then nudged Peter's arm. "Looks like it's just you and me then. Let's see if we can get you squared away."

"I hope not," Peter replied. "Because then there would be two of me and I'd lose track of which one was the original."

Davy let out a sigh and grabbed Peter by the arm to drag him to the Monkeemobile.

"We'll see you later," he told Micky. "And hey, good night with tonight."

"Thanks," Micky smiled at him. 'Because I'm going to need it,' he added silently.

He watched Peter and Davy climb into the car and speed away. Once they were out of sight, Micky sighed heavily and leaned back against a nearby brick wall.

Truthfully, he had planned to bail on the guys from the beginning. He had only made a show of going with them so that Mike would go through with his plan to stay home. He knew that the Texan would have found some excuse to go off somewhere on his own if he hadn't done that. It still hurt Micky to know that Mike would have gone to such lengths to avoid spending time alone with him, but he tried to ignore that feeling for the time being. Now, that he had another opportunity to talk things over with Mike, Micky needed to focus on figuring out what exactly he should say and do. He was certain that he had only one shot at this, and thus, he needed to make it count.

Micky shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the road to gather his thoughts. He knew the basics of what he wanted to say, but something was still missing. Something that would drive home all the feelings that he wanted to convey. Something that would put any doubts that Mike might have about his sincerity to rest.

The drummer chewed the edge of his lip and looked up from the sidewalk. A splash of color in a store window caught his attention and suddenly he was struck with an inspiration. At first, he inwardly scoffed at the idea. But as he stared at the display in the window, he started to change his mind.

'Well...why not?' he told himself. 'Yeah, maybe it's a little weird, but then again, it's not really.'

Micky checked his wallet and, seeing that he had enough money, decided to go with his plan.

A few minutes later, Micky was walking toward the entrance of the pad, his heart pounding and his legs shaky. He was still somewhat unsure of the purchase he just made, but he hoped that it would help him make his true intentions clear to Mike. Micky kept one hand behind his back as he unlocked the door and crept inside. He closed the door slowly, careful to not make a sound, and locked it again behind him. The wiseacre inside him tried to make a joke out of the idea that he had just trapped Mike in the pad, but Micky wasn't entirely sure if he'd still want that to be the case in a few minutes.

Micky snuck around the pad, each footstep made with extra caution so that he could try to find Mike before the Texan knew that he was there. He looked around the main front room area and near the balcony, surprised to not find Mike in either place. Micky had figured that Mike would spend the evening working on his music, but the blonde Gretch was still in its usual place with the rest of their instruments. He peered out the balcony window and upon seeing no signs of him on the beach; Micky guessed that Mike was upstairs.

The drummer gulped as he approached the spiral staircase. He paused to yank off his shoes to further muffle the sound of his feet. Then he walked up the stairs on tiptoe and edged over to their shared bedroom.

There, he finally found Mike. The Texan was sitting on his bed and facing the window. His shoulders were slumped and his head bowed. After staring at him for a few seconds, Micky was pretty sure that he could detect a slight catch in Mike's breathing. The heartache he felt over how dejected Mike looked sitting there all alone gave Micky the last push he needed to act.

"Hey Mike...."

 The Texan shuddered violently and jumped to his feet so he could turn to face him. As soon as Mike saw who it was, his face contorted into an expression of confusion and anger and he started to head for the exit.

"Wait!" Micky said, holding out a hand to stop him. "Wait Mike, please. I, I know you're upset and I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with me right now, but, I, I really, really need to talk to you about it. Please Mike."

Mike stared at him for a long moment, his expression eventually softening into something more neutral. He wordlessly moved to sit back down on his bed and stared at Micky, waiting for him to speak. Micky swallowed hard and sat down on the bed across from him. He looked down at the floor and took several deep breaths before he looked up and began.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "Mike, I'm so sorry for springing all of that on you that way. I know it seemed like it came out of nowhere and didn't make any sense. I, I just was so nervous about telling you...hell, I'm still nervous...it all came tumbling out. And I was so anxious to say it, I didn't think very much about how you might feel about it. I mean: 'surprise, your old buddy Micky Dolenz suddenly says he's got the hots for you.' I, I didn't even think about how weird that would be for you or how you might not want a guy looking at you that way."

Micky's hands trembled. He gripped one hand to his knee while keeping his other one still hidden. The drummer licked his lips and took another shaky breath before continuing.

"But even though I'm sorry that I told you that way and wish that I hadn't put you through all that, I...I'm not sorry that I told you the truth about how I feel," Micky said. "Because it is the truth, Mike. It's not a joke and it's not part of some game. Those feelings I told you about are real. And I've never felt this way about...about anyone really. Yeah sure, not for a guy, but not for a girl either. I don't know what that makes me, but I, I just know that I really care about you and want to be with you. And, and that's why I wanted to give you this."

Micky finally pulled his hand from behind and held out a single rose. The flower at the end was a deep scarlet red and had fully bloomed. The drummer moved closer to Mike and placed it onto the Texan's open palm. Mike looked down at the rose in his hand and closed his fingers around the stem, careful to mind the thorns.

"I know it's cheesy as hell to say this, but when I saw that rose in a window tonight, I thought of you," Micky said with a nervous laugh. "Maybe it's not perfect and maybe it's a little thorny, but it's beautiful. It's so beautiful, it doesn't need to hide behind a bunch of other flowers or have anything fancy to make it special like a vase or a ribbon or stuff like that.  It's lovely and amazing just as it is...and that's just like you."

Mike looked up at him, his expression completely inscrutable. Micky laughed again, his face red, as he looked back down at the floor.

"Yeah, I told you it was pretty cheesy," he said. "But I still mean it. And I know you probably didn't want to ever have a guy telling you stuff like this, but I had to make sure you knew that I wasn't lying or playing with you. I...I never wanted to hurt you, Mike. God, that was the last thing I wanted to do."

Micky paused. He wished that Mike would take advantage of the silence and say something. Anything. When no words came, Micky felt his heart sink.

"I know I don't have any right to ask for this," he mumbled, his head still down. "But I guess I was kind of hoping that we could still be friends. I mean, I'd still love for it to be more...but I'd be fine if it wasn't. More than fine really. You're my best friend, Mike and I'd really hate to have this ruin it. But, I'd understand if you're not comfortable with it or...."

Micky stopped, taking a moment to try to get a full breath. His insides quaked as he thought about how his last chance to make things right appeared to be failing miserably. All the words that had sounded right in his head as he rehearsed them had been a jumbled mess. As low as he felt before, he felt even worse now.

"I guess...I guess I'm trying to say that...that I...."

The drummer looked up to see Mike still staring at him, an intense, unreadable glint in his eyes. Despite the fear and sorrow that were starting to overtake him, Micky could not help but be captivated by Mike's eyes and by the way he looked at him.

Before he could stop himself, Micky leaned over and kissed Mike.

It wasn't a very long kiss. Just a brief moment where his mouth was pressed against the Texan's. Still, he managed put everything he felt into that kiss, as short as it was. Mike's lips were soft and warm, just as Micky imagined they would be. He was about to prolong the contact when he suddenly came back to his senses and scooted away. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Mike's eyes were wide open, filled with shock and some other emotion that Micky could not discern. Mike placed his fingertips onto his lips where Micky had kissed him.

Micky gasped and went back to staring the floor, his face redder than ever.

'Oh god, what did I do?' he asked himself. 'If Mike didn't want to deck me before, I'm sure I've earned a pinch to the mouth now. So much for being friends again....'

Micky started to shake. Deep down, he knew what had possessed him to act that way, even though he didn't want to admit it. He knew he was probably never going to have what he desperately wanted, but he still needed that one moment. One moment where he could live out his dream of having the Texan's love.  Now, he just wished that he could find a rock to hide under.  

The drummer shivered even more. He felt like the room was growing smaller. Or maybe it was getting colder. He wasn't sure anymore. Micky wanted to run away, but he couldn't move.

"Micky."

Micky's head shot up and he saw Mike crouching down on the floor in front of him. Mike placed his hands onto Micky's arms, the warm gentle touch stilling him and helping him to relax marginally. Mike moved closer and closer to him, and Micky struggled to guess what the Texan was thinking.

Then Mike stopped and gave him one last lingering look before closing his eyes and leaning in to kiss him back.

Micky's eyes bulged open. Despite having fantasized about this moment dozens of times, he still fully couldn't process what was happening to him. The kiss was sweet, adoring and about a hundred times better than any of his fantasies. It took him several seconds to realize that he should be making sure that Mike knew that it was welcomed.

Micky flung his arms around Mike, squeezing him tightly while kissing him back. Mike responded by enveloping his arms around the drummer and moving onto the bed with him. The Texan held him close and continued to kiss him as Micky closed his eyes and ran his hands all over Mike's back.  

Eventually, Mike broke away, his eyes opening to gaze at the drummer's face. He reached up to stroke Micky's cheek before looking down into his lap.

"Mick...I...I need to tell you something," he mumbled.

"Wha...?" Micky said breathlessly, his mind still scrambling to find any coherent thoughts. Mike took a deep breath and looked back up at him.

"I like you too," he whispered.

Micky beamed. Hearing Mike say the very words he had said with the same meaning behind them filled him with joy. He didn't really know why, but he started to laugh. And soon, Mike smiled and did the same while looking down and to the side.

"You do?!" Micky finally replied. Mike shrugged his shoulders and smiled a little more.

"Well...yeah," he drawled.

"Since when?"

"Since a while ago," Mike answered. "I didn't want to say anything because...um, because I didn't think that you...well I'd only seen you with chicks, so I thought...."

"That's what I thought too," Micky said excitedly. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't think you felt the same way and was scared that you'd hate me if you knew. "

Mike raised his head and placed his hands onto the sides of Micky's head, making sure to look him in the eye.

"I never could hate you," he said solemnly. "Don't ever think that." Micky felt his grin grow even wider and he put one of his hands onto one of Mike's.

"I can't get over what we just did," he giggled. "Me, you, us...kissing. It's so weird. But not in a bad way.  I mean, it's not weird for you, is it? It doesn't feel...wrong or anything, does it?"

Mike blew out a long breath as he let go of his head. He then looped his arms back around Micky and drew him close. Micky rested his head against Mike's chest.

"I know a lot of people where I grew up would think that it's wrong," Mike drawled. "They all said it was a sin and that it was dirty. But I was never as sure about all that. I guess I eventually figured that there's lots of ways that people can love each other and that it not being between a man and a woman don't make it wrong."

The Texan looked over at Micky and tightened his hold on him.

"I don't know if I really understand it," he continued. "I, I've never felt this way. I ain't into guys. But this, being with you, it don't feel wrong to me either."

"I understand," Micky said, placing his hand on Mike's arm. "It's the same for me too. I've only been dating chicks up to now. It's confusing, that's for sure. But being like this with you isn't uncomfortable or anything like that. It feels really, really good."

Both of them smiled again as Mike let Micky go and picked up the rose from the bed stand where he had laid it down.

"Oh man, I was hoping that you didn't think I was a freak or something for giving you that," Micky giggled.

"No," Mike said, looking down to stare at the rose in his hands. "It's, it's nice. It's just...."

"Just what?" Micky asked.

"It's just no one's given me anything like this before," Mike said quietly.

"Yeah, I imagine not," Micky laughed. "I don't suppose you get too many guys giving you flowers."

"Well no," Mike said. "But I don't just mean that. I mean, I ain't never got anything like this before. No one's given me somethin' just to say, to say that...."

"To say that they love you?" Micky finished for him. Mike didn't respond. He simply fingered the edges of the petals while still not looking back up. Micky felt sad over this admission until another thought came to him.

"Hey, then I guess I get to be the first," he said encouragingly, patting Mike's hands. A small smile appeared on Mike's lips which prompted Micky to grin again.

"Yeah, I guess you are," Mike said. The Texan stroked the petals again before plucking one of them off and placing it into his mouth. Micky's mouth fell open.

"Um, Mike?" he said. "Did you just eat that rose petal?" Mike looked up at him and swallowed what was in his mouth.

"Sorry," Mike said sheepishly. "I guess you weren't expecting me to do that. But, yeah, I've done it since I was a kid. I know it's a little out there, but there's somethin' about them. They taste...I don't know, they taste like they smell. At least to me they do. And when you eat them, it's like that smell stays with you for hours. I know you were wanting this to be special...and it is to me...but it's so pretty and smells so good, I just wanted to experience it even more."

"I had no idea," Micky chuckled. "That's groovy, I guess. But hey, it's your rose. You enjoy it however you want."

Mike smiled shyly at him again before plucking off another petal. He parted his lips slightly, his tongue sliding out to receive it, all of which Micky watched with fascination.

One he had finished his second petal; Mike placed the rose back onto his nightstand. He stared at Micky's face, the drummer eventually realizing that Mike was focusing on his mouth. He thought that Mike wanted to kiss him again and wondered why he was hesitating when he happened to notice the question in the Texan's eyes. Micky shuffled over to him, a broad smile on his face.

"Mike, you can kiss me again if you'd like," he said. "You don't have to ask. If you ever want to kiss me or touch me or if you want a hug or something, you're always welcome, you know."

Mike's eyes lit up, causing Micky to smile even more. The Texan embraced him again and went back to kissing him. This time, Micky could swear he sensed a faint trace of roses in the Texan's breath. He reached up and slid Mike's hat off his head which made the Texan pull back slightly and raise an eyebrow in surprise. Micky held the hat to his face and sniffed it deeply, savoring Mike's scent in the cloth.

"I might have to steal one of these," the drummer smirked. Mike smirked back.

"No worries," he said. "I have spares."

Micky giggled and tossed it onto his pillow. He ran his hands over the place on Mike's head where the hat usually sat. He then gently bent Mike's head down so he could kiss the crown of his hair. When Micky let go, Mike lifted his head to smile at him.

Then a much more heated look appeared on both of their faces. The two of them clung to each other, the kisses much more passionate then they were before. Mike's hands played at the hem of Micky's t-shirt and then started pulling it upward. Micky raised his arms so Mike could take it off. Once it was gone, Mike ran his hands along Micky's chest and then bent down to kiss him there too. As he did, Micky reached for the buttons on Mike's shirt, undoing each one as fast as he could. Mike sat back up to shrug his shirt off, a slight blush on his cheeks. He didn't seem to be able to look at Micky at that moment, a quirk Micky attributed to Mike's usual shyness and modesty.  

Micky smiled and stroked Mike's hair before turning his attention to the Texan's chest. He caressed Mike tenderly, trying to get the Texan to relax. At one point, Micky leaned in to swirl his tongue over a nipple, eliciting a loud groan from Mike. The drummer grinned even more over having discovered something that Mike really liked and made sure to do that a couple more times over each nipple. After that, Mike seemed more confident of his actions as they moved on to fiddling with each other's belts.

Soon, both of them had lost all of their clothing and were exploring each other's bodies with their hands, fingers, mouths and tongues. Mike seemed to be determined to leave no area of Micky's body untouched by kisses. He placed them on the drummer's cheek, his shoulder, his chest, his hip and even his knees. Throughout this, Micky moaned loudly, his skin on fire from feel of Mike's tongue and lips all over him. Every once in a while, the scent of roses reached his nostrils and Micky sighed happily.

Micky wrapped an arm around Mike's waist and guided his head back up so that they faced each other. The drummer ran his tongue along Mike's neck and then mouthed at the skin there. He then flicked the tip of his tongue against the Texan's earlobe before nibbling on it gently. Mike gasped and then sighed heavily. Micky grinned again, pleased that he had found something else that seemed to really turn Mike on and made sure to make a mental note of it too for future reference. Then they kissed each other on the mouth again. By the time they finished, they were both completely aroused and desperate to do something about it.

Mike moved on top of Micky and ground his hips against him, letting their erections rub up against each other. Micky bucked his hips upward, encouraging Mike to move faster, to press down against him even more.

"Mike, please," Micky groaned as he did it. "Don't stop...please don't stop...."

Eventually, both of them reached down to touch each other's crotch. Fingers caressed their shafts and they started jerking each other off simultaneously while staring into each other's eyes. Micky wasn't sure why, but something about Mike touching him, about Mike being the one to stroke him like this, felt so much more erotic than any of the times he did the exact same motions himself.

Mike continued to stroke him while still rocking his hips against Micky's. The drummer's mouth fell open, a needy cry begging Mike to kiss him coming out. The Texan complied, their tongues replicating the motions and rhythms they were making with their hands. When they parted, Micky was panting for air.

"Mike! Ohgodohgodohgod, Mike, I...I...!"

The drummer felt himself drift away. The only things he knew now were the hand that was stroking him and the small grunts and moans that Mike was making. In one blinding moment, Micky arched upward, his hips thrusting against Mike and his mouth calling out Mike's name. Liquid spilled onto Mike's hand and stomach, but the Texan did not stop or even slow his movements.

Soon, it was over, and Micky was able to take in the sight of Mike still grinding against him, his eyes wide and almost unseeing with passion. Still, there was something hesitant in Mike's movements and in the back of the Texan's eyes. Mike was still holding back.  Just a little bit, but enough so that he was unable to fully succumb to his pleasure.

Micky looked up at him with love and pumped him even faster while rubbing Mike's back with his other hand.

"It's ok, Michael," he cooed at him. "It's all right, babe. Just let yourself go."

And with those words, Mike finally went over the edge. Micky watched in wonder as Mike let out a strangled cry as he came, his face tensing and then relaxing as his orgasm swamped his mind and heart with bliss. Micky thought it was one of the best things he had ever seen.

After they had caught their breaths and cleaned themselves up, the two of them climbed into Mike's bed and cuddled together under the covers. Mike had put his boxers back on and had gotten into his pajama bottoms, but Micky convinced him to leave the top off. Micky had yanked his boxers on as well, decided to call that good, and plopped into bed with the Texan. They kissed a couple more times before settling in to rest on their sides while facing each other.

"That was so good," Micky giggled. "No, not good. More like amazing. Being with you this way...it's so much better than any dream I've had about it."

"You were dreaming about it?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, I was," Micky chuckled. "I was kind of obsessed with it at one point. I fantasized about it a lot because I wanted you so badly. It was all I had when I thought that you didn't like me anymore and wouldn't go anywhere near me here recently. And now that this happened, it's like a dream, but even more so, you know."

"I know," Mike nodded. "And I, I uh...I used to think about it too. I didn't think it could ever happen, so I tried not to think about it too much. But I, I still would sometimes."

Something about Mike's tone caused a pang of concern to rise up in Micky. He studied the Texan's face thoughtfully, noting how Mike didn't seem able to look at him again.

"Mike...?"

"I'm sorry, Mick," Mike murmured. "For what I said to you before, when you first told me. I treated you terribly, made you think that I hated you and all. And then you bein' so scared and nervous telling me this tonight...I made you feel that way and you shouldn't ever have to feel like that. I feel so rotten about it. I just...when you told me...I just couldn't believe that you...."

Micky shook his head vigorously and scooted closer to him.

"Shh, it's all right, babe," he said softly, placing his fingers onto Mike's lips. "I forgive you. You don't have to explain. And please don't feel so bad about it. It's over and none of that matters. Not anymore. What matters is how we are together now."

"It ain't goin' to be easy for us, Micky," Mike added. "There's still a lot of people who think that what you and me have is wrong. We can't let them find out about us."

"I know," Micky said. "I know how it's going to have to be, but I don't care. Not when I'm with you. It's totally worth it."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Mike whispered. "Mick, I...it'd kill me if something bad happened to you because of me."

"Hey, don't talk like that," Micky said, insistent. "Nothing's going to happen because we're both going to be really careful and make sure that no one finds out. As long as we stick together, it's going to work out, Mike."

Mike nodded as he rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling silently, and Micky could still sense the tension within him. The drummer shuffled over closer and swept Mike's hair aside so he could kiss his temple. Mike looked over at him, a faint smile finally playing on his lips.

"Can we go to sleep this way?" Micky asked him. "Please Mike. Just for tonight." The Texan sighed but still managed to smile.

"All right," he said. "Just for tonight."

Micky grinned and snuggled up against him even more, resting his head onto Mike's chest and draping an arm across it. Mike put his arm around Micky's back and laid another one over the arm that was resting on his chest. Both of them were filled with countless questions and worries, but in the midst of all that, they clung to each other and to one certainty.

The certainty that they would face it all together.