Author's Note: Way too tired to be doing homework right now which is what I should be doing….I tried, but I may as well be reading my chemistry book in Greek, but since I can't sleep cause I'm at work, I'm gonna just start letting my fingers do their magic on my keyboard…..

K. Short chapter. Sorry. But I finally got a Davy POV! Lol Also, I don't own the monkees, any music, yadda yadda, blahdy blah…..I've decided for all original characters I'm just going to pick from names from some of my other fave stuff cause I'm so bad at coming up with names. If/when I have kids, my significant other (whoever that may be) will probably pick out names for them lol!

Title: Sweet Revenge

Chapter 1: Broke and Hungry

Micky lay on the beach, his energy spent. He'd just soak up the sun now. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. He loved that sound. It was as if he didn't have a care in the world when he listened to the waves. He didn't have to worry about empty cabinets and empty iceboxes. He didn't have to worry about paying rent. He didn't have to worry about anything.

"Micky!" came a voice snapping him from his reverie. "Don't tell me you're tired already!" He smiled and opened his eyes to see one of his best friends sitting down next to him.

"Kinda," Micky answered truthfully.

"You are the last one to ever get tired," Peter said. "Come on, Micky, get up!" Peter started bouncing a beach ball off his stomach.

"Peter, if you bounce that off me one more time, it'll be your lunch," Micky warned. But Peter just laughed. They'd spent the last hour throwing, kicking, and bouncing the ball around on the beach. It had started off as a lame form of volleyball but because they were forced to use a beach ball, it quickly turned into mindless mayhem.

"Does that mean I win?" Peter laughed bouncing the ball one more time. Micky smiled inwardly. He quickly grabbed the ball from Peter as it him in the stomach again causing Peter to jump up and scurry away. Micky leapt up and chased him, throwing the ball at the back of Peter's head. When it bounced off Peter's head, Peter whirled around and clutched his chest, and gasped for air before falling backward.

"Oh, Micky!" he exclaimed in mock agony. "You got me! I'm done for!" Micky laughed and grabbed the ball before sitting down next to his friend.

"Funny, Pete, but I really am tired," Micky said.

"Really?" Peter asked sitting up, abandoning his mock death. "Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, why?" Micky asked.

"Cause you normally have way more energy than me," Peter said reaching out to feel Micky's forehead. Micky pushed his friends hand away.

"Don't do that," Micky said with a laugh. "I don't have a fever. I'm fine. Just tired today, I guess."

"If you're sure," Peter said warily.

"Come on, Pete," Micky said with a smile and standing up. "Let's get back to the pad. See if Mike and Davy are back yet." Together they walked back to the pad in silence. Mike and Davy had gone out to interview for a job at a grocery store that they desperately needed. Micky and Peter hadn't gotten past the application process for some reason. Normally they didn't like taking regular jobs because it hindered their ability to play their music, but they really didn't have much of a choice. They were two months behind on the rent and were running out of ways to dodge Mr. Babbit. Mike had pulled moldy bread out of the cupboard that morning for breakfast before throwing it away in disgust. Which meant they had skipped breakfast that morning. Which might have been why Micky was so tired.

When they reached the pad, Micky threw the beach ball over into the corner and sank into a chair. Mike and Davy hadn't returned yet. Peter walked over to the icebox and opened it, even though he knew there was nothing in it. He stared blankly at it.

"What are you looking for?" Micky asked.

"I don't know," Peter said. "I was kinda hoping that somehow there would be food in here. I'm starving."

"You and me both," Micky said. He felt a slight pain in his stomach even as he said it. Peter closed the door to the icebox and decided to sit down at his keyboard. Micky smiled and leaned his head back against the chair with his eyes closed as Peter picked out a few notes to a song he was working on.

"What do you think, Micky?" Peter asked.

"Sounds good, Peter," Micky answered lazily. He expected Peter to keep playing, but instead he was met with a few moments of silence.

"Are you sure you're feeling ok?" Peter finally asked.

"Just hungry, Pete," Micky answered.

"You don't look so good," Peter answered. His voice was closer now and Micky opened his eyes to see his friend standing in front of him with a very worried expression. Before he could answer, the door burst open and Mike and Davy rushed in buried under dozens of bags. Peter and Micky jumped up to help them, but Micky found himself overwhelmed by a sudden wave of dizziness and was forced to sit back down. Unfortunately for Micky, Mike saw him fall back into the chair holding his head.

"You ok, Mick?" he asked dropping the bags on their kitchen table.

"Will everyone stop asking me that?" Micky said irritably.

"Mike's right," Davy said after dropping his own bags. "You look green."

"I'm fine," Micky answered. "I just got up too fast."

"Yeah, you, they hyper active man-child who never stops moving," Mike said sarcastically. "I'll believe that. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What's with all the bags?" Micky said trying to divert attention from him.

"We got the job," Davy answered excitedly. "We kind of let it slip that our cupboards were bare so he let us take home some of the stuff they were going to throw away because the boxes were damaged or whatever."

"That was nice of him," Peter said. "I'm starving! Let's eat!" Peter started digging through the bags like a kid in a candy store.

"I think we should give Micky some of that soup," Mike said, still staring warily at him. "I think there's a chicken noodle. Can was dented too bad to sell."

"I'm fine," Micky said irritably again. He hated being fussed over. "For the last time."

"Ok, I'll stop asking how you feel if you agree to one thing," Mike said.

"What?" Micky answered.

"Let me take your temperature," Mike said crossing his arms. "You're sweating and it's not even 80 degrees outside."

"Ok, so I'm a little hot," Micky said. "I'm not a baby."

"No, but I think you're sick," Mike answered. "I heard there's a nasty bug going around."

"Ok, maybe a little," Micky agreed relenting a little. Suddenly his stomach lurched and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Or not," he said as he got up and ran to the bathroom. When he came back out several minutes later, his friends all had worried looks on their faces. Mike all but pushed him onto their couch; Davy handed him a glass of orange juice and Peter a bowl of soup. Mike draped a blanket over him.

"Case settled," he said. "Eat the soup, drink the juice, and rest."

"But I have a date with Lucy tonight!" Micky complained.

"With no money?" Davy asked.

"Well, I was thinking a romantic stroll through the park," Micky shrugged. "Or the beach."

"Romantic until you throw up all over her," Peter said.

"I'm not gonna do that!"

"You're right, Mick," Mike said. "Cause you're not going. Peter, can you call Lucy and tell her Micky's sick? She'll understand."

"But-!" Micky said, once again trying to argue.

"No, Micky!"

"Alright," Micky said giving up. "You win." Mike placed the back of his hand against Micky's forehead.

"You're burning up," Mike said.

"Just a little bug," Micky said. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Eat your soup," Peter said. "Then off to bed."

"Yes, mother," Micky said rolling his eyes. He caught Davy trying to hide a snicker.

"Now, don't be snarky," Mike said. "We're just trying to help." Without further argument, Micky ate the soup, grateful for any food, and drank his orange juice. Then he went upstairs, very carefully as he was still dizzy, and fell asleep for hours.

Davy stood behind the cash register waiting for a customer. He'd started his first shift that night, but his thoughts kept drifting back home. He was worried about Micky. He'd never really seen any of his friends get sick before. Not like that. They'd been sea sick before, but that was different. Micky was always so bouncy and loud. It was strange with the house as quiet as it had been before Davy had left. Mike and Peter had assured Davy that they would check on Micky throughout the evening. But Davy was still worried. But they had to figure out a way to pay rent or they'd be out on the street in the cold, which certainly wouldn't do Micky any good.

So here he was, chatting with the cashier lazily and waiting for a customer. The owner had decided to put Davy on bagger duty and Mike would come in the morning and be a stocker. Davy found it incredibly boring. But he had to do it. At least the cashier was relatively entertaining. He told stories about his family and growing up. It helped pass the time. Before he knew it, his shift was almost over. He had a little under an hour left before he'd be able to go home and go to sleep. It was nearing midnight which was when the store closed. After that, they'd have to do some menial clean-up, and then they could leave. The cashier had let Davy in on a secret, though. If you cleaned as you went, there'd be nothing to clean at the end of the night and you could leave right when the stores closed. It didn't seem like much of a secret to Davy, however. It seemed more like common sense, but looking around Davy noticed other people weren't following that edict. The night stockers had left pieces of cardboard everywhere they went. The other cashier, who had closed down her register a few minutes earlier, was busy cleaning a mess that a toddler had made 2 hours earlier. Davy shook his head in befuddlement. He hadn't noticed a man walking up to him.

"Hey, Davy," he said. Davy looked up in shock. Micky was standing in front of him.

"Micky?" Davy asked. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home!"

"I got tired of being cooped up," Micky answered. Davy thought his voice sounded a bit rough, but chalked it up to the cold. "And I feel much better anyway."

"Already?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug. "I told you it wasn't that bad of a cold. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Ok, but now's not a good time," Davy said noticing his new boss glaring at him from his office. "Can we talk about it back at the pad?"

"No," Micky said rather quickly. Davy gave him a confused look. "I mean, it's about the others. Mike and Peter. I wanted to talk in private."

"Well, I'm working right now, but we can talk after work," Davy said. Something seemed off. Why would Micky want to talk about Mike and Peter in private?

"Sure, sure," Micky said. "There's a diner up the street. I'll meet you there in an hour?"

"Yeah, no problem, Micky," Davy said. "What about Lucy?"

"I already talked to her," Micky answered. "We rescheduled for tomorrow."

"Oh. Ok." Davy was very confused. Micky seemed very off, and Davy was worried about what he could possibly want to talk to him about. Had Mike and Peter done something? Surely Davy would have noticed some tension between them. Davy quickly rushed out the door when it was time for the store to close. He wanted to get over to the diner as quickly as he could to meet with Micky. Once he was inside the diner, he spotted Micky quickly. He was sitting in a corner booth eating a cheeseburger.

"How did you get the money for that?" Davy asked sitting down.

"Peter loaned it to me," he said waving off the question. Davy narrowed his eyes, now even more confused.

"Where did Peter get the money?" he asked. Something seemed fishy.

"He went down to the bus stop and played his banjo for a few people," Micky said.

"Oh," Davy said. They had done that in the past for some quick cash, but they hadn't done it for a while. Davy shrugged his shoulders. He guessed it made sense. They were strapped for money, even with Davy and Mike getting those jobs. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Want something, Davy?" Micky asked. "Soda? Fries?"

"I'm good," Davy answered. "We need to be saving our money. And I ate during my lunch break."

"Suit yourself," Micky answered.

"Micky, I'm really tired and I want to go home and go to sleep. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well," Micky said after a heavy sigh. "Have you noticed anything off about Peter and Mike?"

"No, but I'm noticing something off with you," Davy answered.

"Sorry, I'm just worried."

"About what?"

"Them. They seem distant. You haven't noticed?"

"Not really."

"I overheard Mike on the phone the other day. He was talking about going home. For good."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. That's what I was thinking. Then there's Peter."

"What's wrong with Peter?"

"Well, I watched him play for a group of kids last week. They all told him he was really good. One girl said something about how she'd seen us performing at that country club a few years ago and said he sounded better alone. Peter seemed to like that."

"What are you getting at, Micky?" Davy was really getting worried now. He hadn't seen any of this from his friends. Not even a hint. Micky sighed and pushed his now empty plate away from him and leaned on the table closer to Davy.

"I'm not sure, Davy, but I think they're thinking of leaving. Quitting. Leaving us high and dry."

"They wouldn't do that."

"I didn't think so either, but...it's all these little things I'm noticing. I don't know; maybe I'm going crazy."

"Maybe your fever is making you think too negatively."

"Maybe…" Micky seemed lost in thought.

"Let's just go home, Micky."

"Alright," Micky said. He pulled out a wallet and put a few bills down on the table before getting up and walking to the door. Davy followed him outside. "Hey, I sorta snuck out so Mike and Peter don't know I left. Don't mention it to them, ok?"

"Ok," Davy answered.

"And let's not talk about this again," Micky said with a forced laugh. "Maybe I am going crazy…Anyway, I'll meet you back at the pad." Before Davy could say anything, Micky took off down the street towards the pad. Davy shook his head and kicked a few rocks in the road as he walked back to the red Pontiac GTO they all shared. He wondered why Micky wouldn't want a ride, but figured that Micky would enjoy the outdoors more since he'd been cooped up in the house all day. It's probably what Davy would have wanted. He loved being outside.

He also thought about what Micky had said. Were Mike and Peter really thinking about leaving them? Did Peter really think that the others were holding him back? Davy knew he'd told Micky he wouldn't say anything to the others, but he desperately wanted to ask Mike and Peter. He figured he'd watch them over the next few days to see if he picked up on anything that Micky had seemed to pick up on. But something in the back of his mind was bugging him. Something kept telling him that something was very, very wrong. He just didn't know what.