Warnings: (very) mild language, lots of talk of shaving (does that make people queasy? idk), brief mention of shooting a bird, the word "crotch"? I think that's it?
A/N: Yay! Crack fic! Wait, would this be considered crack? I don't know, whatever.
Micky sat on the edge of the tub, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. He stared down at his legs that were covered in thick dark hair.
Out of the four of them, he had the most right to call himself a monkey. Or, well, a "monkee", rather.
He wasn't sure where he got it from - his Irish heritage, maybe? - but the hair on his body was as thick as it comes. Really, if he moved to the middle of nowhere and grew all his hair out, people would probably think he was Bigfoot. The thought made him crack a smile. But the smile fell again.
Sometimes being Micky 'Daredevil' Dolenz got him into a lot of trouble. This time was no exception. He mentally kicked himself. What was he thinking?
He scolded himself for taking the dare. And for saying what he'd said. "Hey, I'm no chicken. I'll take any dare! Gimme your best shot."
And did Davy give it. "I dare you to shave your legs. Both of them."
Micky went to protest, but Davy was persistent. Peter was beside himself. The idea of Micky, the hairiest of all of them, shaving his leg hair? Hilarious.
Mike smirked in his direction. With a shrug, he said, "You chose dare, Mick."
Micky glared at Davy. He'd smack that smug look off his face if he could. Whose idea was it to play truth or dare, anyway? Why did it have to be raining?
Micky continued to curse the weather and Davy and everything in between as he got up from his chair. Davy clapped and whooped. Peter joined in. God, did he want to get back at them.
But what was he to do? He sunk from the side of the tub to the floor.
A light bulb flicked on above his head. He'd use Davy's razor as revenge. That would show hi- no. Wait. Davy didn't have a razor. The little Englishman couldn't grow a beard to save his life. Micky slumped back against the tub. Great.
He finally stood to get his razor and shaving cream from the sink. Might as well get it over with.
Micky made sure the door was locked. He didn't want anyone parading in to mock him. He'd get enough of that after he was done. At least Davy hadn't dared him to shave his crotch. Things could be worse.
He settled down on the edge of the tub again, this time resting his feet inside. Micky turned on the water and stuck one leg under it. The water was cold at first but it quickly warmed up.
Micky piled shaving cream in his hand. He'd need a lot. He spread it over his left leg, sure to cover it with an even layer. Micky grabbed up his razor to start. But he hesitated. The razor was intended for his face but there couldn't be much of a difference, could there? It wouldn't be much different from shaving his face, right?
Right, whatever, he thought, shaking the hesitations from his mind.
Then, the task really began. He started at his ankle and the razor was immediately covered in hair. Annoying. Micky stuck the blade under the running water in hopes of rinsing it out. Then he started again.
This process of shaving and rinsing went on for a while. Before long, he had one leg done. He admired how smooth it was for a brief moment. There was skin there that he hadn't seen since he was a kid.
As he started on the next one, someone knocked on the door.
"Micky?" It was Peter. "How much longer are you gonna be? I've had a lot of cokes, I don't know if I can hold it."
"Hey," he called over his shoulder, "maybe you should've thought about that before daring me to shave my hairy-ass legs!"
Sure, Peter wasn't the one to dare him. But he still meant it. Peter could have taken his side. Helped him out a little, you know. But did he? Nope. So Micky wasn't going to help him.
He heard Davy snort on the other side of the door. Peter giggled and the two busted into a laughing fit.
Micky rolled his eyes.
After shaving one leg, Micky felt he had the hang of it. Shaving the second one seemed like a breeze. But, just to be sure, he went over both of them one more time to touch them up.
He rinsed off both legs, dried them with a towel, and tossed out the razor. It was probably dull after all that work. Micky stood and stretched.
Reaching down to touch his toes, he rubbed his legs. They were so smooth. So soft. It was amazing.
"Micky, please!" Peter cried. He thumped his body against the door. Thump, thump, thump. Micky opened the door. He was as ready as he would ever be. Time to face his tormentors- friends. His friends.
"Come get a good look, 'cause they're not gonna be like this for long!" Micky called, easily catching everyone's attention.
Davy and Peter had the same reaction. Their faces lit up in such amusement, Micky thought he might go blind. Davy looked so, so smug again. For a moment, Micky hoped he would go blind. And deaf. So he wouldn't have to hear what was coming next.
Mike laughed to himself. He really didn't expect Micky to do it. He thought Mick would just wave his middle finger at Davy and refuse.
That's what he would've done, anyway.
As expected, Davy babbled and laughed and raved, grinning like he'd just won his first race as a pro jockey. Micky stood there and took it like a true pro. He let the two rub his legs in disbelief.
"Baby smooth, right?" Micky said.
Davy and Peter started giggling again. A look of horror washed over Peter's face. He bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door, making Davy double over with laughter.
Micky rolled his eyes. He headed for the stairs. "There's something wrong with him." he jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
Mike nodded, smiling in amusement.
"You wanna feel?" Micky stuck a leg out at him.
Mike laughed, shaking his head, "Naw, I'm good."
Micky shrugged and went up the stairs, muttering about needing a new pair of boxers. When the door was shut safely behind him, Micky sighed. Thank goodness that was over.
It wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. It could've been worse. After all, Davy was probably going to bust a gut, Peter almost peed himself, and he got soft, smooth legs. Every cloud does have a silver lining.
Micky grabbed a new set of clothes.
Smooth legs were nice, he could admit that. Overall, not a bad experience. He rubbed his legs. He could get used to the feeling of it. It didn't seem like a bad idea. Then again, he thought better of it. Shaving all the time - likely every other day, in his case? Not his bag, definitely not.
