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There's a low groan that comes from Mike as he finally crosses the threshold into the pad. The relief of finally being home hitting him harder than he thought it would.
"Tough day?" Micky asks, mouth unfortunately full of what Mike could only assume were chips.
He only lets out a deep sigh in confirmation, not even bothering to tell Micky off for talking with his mouth full.
"Plenty of jobs, but none of them wanted me."
Mike waves his hand in an ‘I don't wanna talk about it' motion and groans again as he flops himself onto the couch, just wanting to go to bed.
"Hey man, I'm sure we'll find something soon! There's gotta be a gig somewhere just waiting to have us play."
He offers the almost empty bowl of chips to Mike, who only scrunches his face up in response.
Micky just shrugs and sets them down onto the table. There wasn't much of anything in the fridge, he was beyond happy to find that last bag of chips at the back of the cupboard.
"There's only so many used car lot openings or birthday parties, Mick."
There's a thoughtful hum in response, but the other Monkee thankfully doesn't push any further.
There's some shuffling and turning as Mike tries his best to get comfortable. There's some hushed words that come from him that Micky isn't able to make out, but eventually he settles; the room growing quiet for a while.
As long as Micky could stand anyway.
"Wanna watch a movie, Mike?" Micky asks, reaching over to turn the TV on.
There's only a quiet sound of disagreement from the man next to him. Although it was no doubt muffled by the fact that Mike was leaning against him with his face buried between his shoulder and the couch.
"Are you sure? Maybe there’s something good on!"
Micky takes a second to flip through a few channels, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and eyes squinted in concentration. Although nothing really manages to catch his attention or even seem all that interesting.
And there’s definitely nothing that Mike would find all that interesting either.
So he sets the remote down with a sigh and lets whatever western is on continue playing. It's no doubt halfway through the movie, but he could always appreciate some cowboy hats and getups.
And once again the pad is silent, the only noise coming from the tv and the crunch of Micky continuing his snacking.
He slowly winds up leaning closer and closer towards the small box tv, becoming engrossed by the monologues and guns and horses.
And especially enjoying one particularly cool explosion.
"Oh man! Did you see that, Mike?"
This time Micky only hears a grunt of denial from the other Monkee. It has Micky pouting once again.
Not even mentioning the fact that Mike hadn't been facing the television to begin with.
“You’re no fun.”
The movie continues on for a little longer, with Micky making a few comments about it every now and then. He couldn’t see it, but it had Mike giving small, sleepy looking smiles. Sometimes he had more fun listening to Micky watching a movie than actually watching the movie himself.
Once the credits roll, Micky's leaning back against the couch again, arms crossed over his chest.
“See, that wasn’t a bad movie.”
Mike’s only response comes out as a long yawn. One of his hands coming up to cover his mouth and cup his own cheek afterwards. Micky was able to see him a lot better now that he wasn’t wedged between the cushions.
“Tired already, Tex?” There’s a click from the television as Micky moves to turn it off.
The guitarist only rolls his eyes at that, rubbing at both of them a second later. It was a clear enough answer to Micky’s question so he didn’t continue to poke at him.
Instead there’s a head that ends up on his shoulder, and two arms that gently wrap around one of his own. It was a shy hold, like Mike was nervous he was doing something wrong, despite the four of them regularly cuddling and managing to squeeze onto the couch that would normally barely fit three of them.
Micky was beginning to think that his friend's fatigue wasn't the only reason at play for his current silence.
There were signs, small and not easily detectable ones, but Micky was a professional at reading his bandmates by now. They all had their tells, and Mike's were usually the hardest to pick up on. But today he either wasn't trying too hard to hide them, or Micky was having an especially good day.
Yeah, Mike must've been pretty tired.
"You should get changed if you plan on falling asleep, cowpoke."
There's a grumble that comes from beside him, and he can't help but let out a giggle or two.
"C'mo-o-o-on Mike, you still got your shoes on and everything!" Another laugh, earns another grumble from said Monkee.
Mike huffs and shoves his face into Micky’s side, unsure himself exactly how he’s feeling. He isn’t annoyed, or upset, just tired. Sometimes you’re just tired. Tired and foggy-headed.
“Leave me be.” Comes his very muffled response.
“He speaks!” Micky gasps, and it doesn’t annoy Mike like he knows it would if it were anyone else.
There isn’t anything else said after that though. There’s just an arm that gets wrapped around the Texan’s shoulder. Mike appreciates the added weight, he just finds the whole action comforting. It’s a sweet, comforting thing like that that only adds onto the foggy feeling in his head.
The foggy, soft feeling that covers all his thoughts. He isn't sure he could accurately describe it if he tried.
Mike’s eyes have drifted shut and he's on the edge of sleep when Micky pipes up again.
"Hey, let's at least get your boots off, big guy."
And this one wasn't a tease or any kind of reference, it was a silly name that Micky always found himself going back to when his friend got quieter and needed to be spoken to softly and gently.
He just couldn’t think that the other could be any sort of comfortable with the way he was bent, not to mention still having his boots and everything on.
He taps one of Mike's knees and gets a very small leg lift in response. It couldn't have been more than a couple of inches off the ground. And he's sure that anybody else probably would've thought it was Mike trying to be funny or even have a bit of an attitude, but Micky could just tell he was tired. Mushy and definitely appreciating the help, but tired.
Micky just smiles and leans down to help pull the boots from Mike's feet.
"One..." he announces, grunting and making it seem like more of an effort than it was to get the first boot off. He even takes a second to wipe some imaginary sweat from his forehead (although he's not certain Mike even sees it) before continuing on to the other. "Dós!"
Mike furrows his brow at that but can't help but smile at his friend's theatrics. Micky always seemed to know what to do to make him laugh or smile. Mike was starting to think it might be an actual superpower.
"There we go! Is that any better?"
"Mhmm." Comes Mike's quiet reply, so quiet Micky almost doesn't hear it. He does see the shy nod that accompanies it though.
The whole room is silent for a few minutes after that. Micky leans back against the couch, and Mike moves a bit closer and rests his head on his buddy's shoulder once again. Micky can't help but smile. He's found that Mike always seems to get a little clingier whenever he softens around the edges.
'Soften' might not be the right word. Sometimes it seems like the older Monkee just melts into a big puddle. He gets soft, and quiet, and mushy, and always seems to appreciate a cuddle or some kind of company. As well as a few soft, kind words.
Both of Mike's hands slowly take hold of one of Micky's and he's pretty confident that there'll be two Monkee puddles for the guys to clean up by the end of the night.
It takes quite a bit of effort on his part to not immediately coo and make some attempt to scoop up his bandmate right then and there.
Micky usually isn't one for silence, he hates how loud it can be, but this one is peaceful. He can hear Mike's breathing, and the steady pace of it only works in relaxing him as well.
Mike messes with the drummer's hands for a bit. He's wiggling his fingers, straightening them only to bend them again, and even comparing the size of their hands together.
When he's tired of that, he interlocks their fingers and lets out a content sigh.
"Maybe you should head on up to bed, babe."
It sounds louder than he meant it to, although that could most definitely be attributed to just how quiet the pad had become.
“'s still early.”
He isn't wrong, Micky quickly squints over at the clock on the wall; it was only about to be 7 o'clock. And Davy and Peter hadn't even returned home yet from wherever they wound up.
“How about a nap then?” Micky tries, bringing his other hand up and over to move some hair from Mike's eyes.
Mike's face scrunches up as he thinks about it.
“What about Davy ‘nd Peter?”
“What if I wake you up when they get here?”
That earns yet another grumble from Mike who throws his head back dramatically. He definitely needed to get some rest. Micky wasn't entirely sure he was moving into ‘fussy’ territory, but he's keeping an eye out.
Not that ‘fussy’ means anything, especially when it comes to Mike. Sometimes the guys just had bigger emotions than they knew what to do with. Micky understood that more than anyone.
“Are you sure you're not turning into a werewolf?” Micky jokes, gently poking Mike in his side, hoping for a laugh or anything besides a growl. “All those growly, scary noises, man!”
It gets a small, shy smile, but no laugh or giggle unfortunately.
Micky's not one to give up right away though.
“D'you want me to run out and track them down so I can bring them home?”
There’s a beat as the other Monkee thinks about it.
“No, I don't want you t'go.”
Mike's got one hand up to his face now, although it isn't cupping his cheek as it usually does any other time. Instead he's got it held up to his mouth as though he's thinking on something, but Micky can see just the tiniest bit of his knuckle between his teeth.
“Then no need to worry, big guy.” Micky smiles. “Besides, I wouldn't leave you home all by yourself!”
That one gets a bigger smile in response, although it's interrupted by another yawn. Quickly followed by a small shiver that runs through him.
Mike curls in on himself a bit, tucking his feet under him and wrapping his other arm around himself. His thin button up isn't doing so much for him anymore.
“Gosh, it's getting a little cold in here! D’you feel that? I know I do.” Micky jumps up, exaggerating freezing for a second just to illustrate his point. “I'm gonna go grab a blanket real quick, stay right there.”
He bounds up the spiral staircase at a speed only he's capable of before Mike even has the chance to say anything.
So he's left there for a few minutes, blinking slowly, chewing on one of his nails, and feeling the same heavy tiredness rush up on him again.
It's not like the slow creep of the soft mushy feeling in his head. That one usually takes him by surprise. Doesn't even usually realize it's there until it's covering all the edges of his mind, softening everything.
He isn't sure if it feels the same way for the other Monkees, but it can be calming for the most part. He's able to take comfort in it. Sure it wasn't like that in the beginning, and he still has some trouble every now and then. Especially when it came to being particularly vulnerable with his friends. But he's relaxed and has mostly gotten used to the feeling and what comes with it by now.
And ‘what comes with it’, well—
“Here we go!” Micky tosses the familiar fuzzy blanket over his head, cutting off his train of thought.
A smile breaks out on his face faster than he's able to realize. He pulls it off of his head and rubs the soft, fuzzy fabric of the blanket between his fingers. A warm feeling blooms in his chest as he recognizes his favorite blanket.
He doesn't even seem to notice that Micky only brought the one down.
“Also brought this down, thought it’d be comfier?”
Micky holds up Mike’s nightgown and raises an eyebrow. He figures if Mike doesn’t wanna leave the couch, he doesn’t have to, but he might as well help his friend to get as comfy as he can.
He also figured it would be less work to change him into his nightgown compared to any of his other pajamas.
“Need any help?”
Mike just shakes his head in answer, untucking his shirt and making quick work of undoing the buttons.
Micky just scrunches the pajama shirt up enough to throw over his head once he’s done, helping him just the slightest bit when one of his arms gets stuck.
“Okay, pants now, big guy.” Micky gently reminds.
Mike huffs but goes to take off his belt next anyway.
It’s a bit hard to shimmy out of his pants when he’s still sitting on the couch, but he manages. He’s just glad to be out of his stuffy clothes.
Micky collects his clothes for him when he's done, setting them all down on one of the chairs. It didn’t take as long as he thought it would thankfully. And Mike already looked a lot more comfortable.
“Comfy now, babe?”
Mike starts to nod again before he cuts himself off with an especially big yawn, trying to hide it behind his fuzzy blanket.
But yawns, being the contagious things they are, moves on to Micky.
“Hey, you're trying to get me too!” Micky points and pouts, although Mike doesn't respond beyond another slow blink.
The act of annoyance doesn't last too long though as Mike holds one of his arms out in front of him, wiggling his fingers. And fortunately for Mike, Micky is physically incapable of resisting a cuddle. Especially from one of his bandmates.
“Okay, okay, you got me.” Micky lets out a loud, over exaggerated sigh as he flops down next to his friend.
Mike is quick to try and cover him with some of his blanket, wanting to make sure neither of them were cold. He isn't able to spare much of it, but the action has Micky melting nonetheless.
“How am I supposed to stay mad at this face, anyway?” He coos, cupping Mike's face and spewing out a whole manner of baby talk for a minute or two. Towards the end it just devolves into incomprehensible noises and sounds. He makes sure to end the whole thing with a big kiss on Mike's cheek.
It's absolutely silly and maybe even a little ridiculous, but it finally gets a giggle out of the other Monkee. And that's all that matters to Micky.
It has Mike's head beyond mushy. Getting cooed at and held so lovingly, even if Micky was doing it partly as a joke. The action itself wasn't, just the silly voice he put on.
Either way, it has Mike bashful and wanting to hide his face.
Which he does, shoving his head into Micky's side again, and hugging his blanket close to his chest.
“Ready for that nap now?”
There's a quiet hum, and Micky just barely manages to keep his amused laugh in.
“Okay, sounds good, big guy.”