(This is a bunch of one shots about times that Mike acted like a parent to the other three Monkees. This is NOT a request one. I just want to let you all know that.
I don't own The Monkees.
I hope you all enjoy them.)
"I got it!" Micky yelled as he went tearing across the sand after the air born volley ball. Looking up he didn't see the hole and he went down hard on his ankle.
"Ahh." He screamed getting a face full of sand as the volley ball thumped down a little ways away and rolled near the water.
"Micky, are you okay?" Peter asked jogging up to the drummer.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Micky said as Davy and Mike walked over.
"You sure?" Mike asked giving Micky a hand up.
"Yeahhh" Micky screamed as he tried to put weight onto his right ankle and almost fell but Mike grabbed him before he collapsed.
"Maybe I'm not okay."
"Come on," Mike said "put your arm around my shoulder. Peter get over on the other side just in case." Peter did as Mike asked and they helped Micky hobble back to the beach house Davy opening the doors for them.
"Thanks guys." Micky said as Peter and Mike helped him sit down on the couch.
"No problem." Mike answered "Now let me see that ankle."
"What? Why?" Micky asked as Mike sat down next to him and gently took Micky's ankle and began feeling around it applying slight presher on the tender area. Micky bit back a whimper.
"Shh shh shh." Mike whispered "It's okay." Then in a normal voice so Davy and Peter could hear "I don't think it's broken or very badly sprained." He announced as he got up from the couch, strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a towel from the drawer and went over to the freezer to grab ice.
"What are you doing?" Davy asked.
"Micky's ankle is sprained," Mike said "we need to ice it and keep in elevated until the swelling goes down. Peter, could you go over to Mr. Babbitt's and see if he has any ice we could have?"
"Why me?" Peter asked as Mike handed him an old coffee container.
"Because we haven't paid our rent yet, Micky you stay on that couch you hear me?" Mike asked interrupting himself to shoot the native Californian a glair. Peter and Davy both looked at Micky who froze as he was just going to get up.
"How do you do that?" Micky asked as Peter took the coffee can and hurried out the door.
"I have siblings." Mike answered as he opened the cupboard door and grabbed the aspirin and filled a glass up with water.
"Take this." Mike almost commanded as he handed Micky the pills and glass. Micky took them without complaint. Peter returned a short while later with the ice.
"Here's your ice Mike." He said passing the ice to the Texan.
"Thanks Pete." Mike said taking it and going into the kitchen and setting it on the table he grabbed the towel again and soaked it in cold water.
"Why are you doing that?" Peter asked confused.
"It keeps the ice colder longer." Mike answered wringing out the water and then started putting ice cubes into it. Making a neat little bundle Mike brought it over to Micky and set it gently on Micky's ankle.
"There we go. Keep that on and put your foot on the table okay." Mike said as he sat down next to his friend.
Micky nodded as he stretched his leg out putting it gently on the coffee table.
"I'll look at it again in the morning but I think it's going to be alright." Mike said as Peter made his way over to the TV and turned it on and Davy sat down in a chair.
"Thanks Mike." Micky said "And I'm sorry for spoiling the day you two."
"It's alright Mick, it's not like you planned to twist your ankle." Davy answered waving the apology off "Now be quiet…I want to see why this doctor is freaking out in the operating room."