First off, I have never posted Monkees fanfic on which is super weird! But we are going to roll with this anyways. Moving on, I wrote this about two weeks ago and posted on my Livejournal, but I decided to come post it here too because, well, it can't hurt, right? I might just start posting it on here instead of posting on both, but this is a slight experiment for the time being. Regardless, enjoy the story my friends! I apologize for it being a bit rough, but I wrote this a four AM so that's...a thing.

"Hey, uh...Micky?"

Davy looked over at the male, expecting some kind of response...but then again, maybe he was expecting too much. Micky was engrossed in some television special that he'd heard about and frankly, Davy didn't understand what was such a big deal about it. "It's gonna be about this sciencey stuff!" Micky had claimed a few days before, eyes lit up like a child on Christmas, and Davy couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped his lips, "You should really watch it with me babe. Maybe then you can appreciate all those science projects I start."

Davy stifled another laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder, "The ones you start and never finish."

But back to the situation at hand. There was a problem, or, well, two problems, if Davy counted Micky being zoned out in a world of chemistry chemicals that he shouldn't ever be allowed near. "Micky!" Davy shouts, suddenly wishing that Mike was there to get his attention. Him and Peter were out getting groceries (Peter liked holding the grocery list and barking every time he found something they needed) and they were taking longer than usual.

Rolling his eyes, Davy stomps over to the television set and pushes the power button, earning a gasp and a whine from the taller man, "Hey! I was watching that!" Davy turns to him, immediately pointing at the front door and watching as Micky's eyes followed his extended arm, "Micky, we have a problem."

Groaning and seemingly not paying attention to the object on their doorstep, he looks back at Davy and pouts, "Did Babbit find out about us playing golf with his figurine collection? I made sure Peter dug a deep enough hole and hid the evidence well enough! And I potty trained h—"

"There's a kid on our front door step, Micky."

Micky eyes him curiously for a few seconds before turning his head to the door and back to Davy, "I don't know if those growth hormones I made for you have some side effects, but there is no one at our door. And even if there was a kid there, what's the big deal? Plenty of kids follow us around all the—"

Davy, suddenly frustrated, groans and raises his voice, "Micky, will you please listen to me? Stop running your mouth for a whole two seconds and I might be able to explain!" The taller man grows quiet, biting his lip, making Davy feel bad like he always does when he screams at him.

"I...stop giving me that face, you twit. I'm sorry, alright, but will you please let me tell you that I am not talking about a fully grown, running around and licking lollipops kid on our doorstep. I am talking about a baby. Maybe I should have been more specific. There is a baby on our doorstep.

Micky blinked,

"At least it's not in the corner."

Davy snaps again, shouting Micky's name which causes the older male to flinch just slightly, mumbling an apology. "This is serious," Davy begins, grabbing Micky by the wrist and leading him to the front doorway,

"Oh come on, Davy, I hardly doubt that there's a—"

Micky blinks rapidly as Davy brings him to the door, remaining silent for a few moments until he finally speaks again,

"Davy there's a baby on our doorstep."

"Really, now? Is there really?"

Micky blinks down at the child, who, at this point, might as well be a 3-Headed Org with the way he was looking at it. When he finally comes to, he looks to the side of him and finds that Davy is staring right back at him with the same expression. "Well..." Micky began, eyes flickering between the little bundle of joy(?) and the midget standing next to him,

"What are we going to do?"

Davy glares at him for a few moments, then sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, "I don't know, doofus, that's why I called for you. I mean...someone obviously left...her? Him?" Davy sighs again, "Someone obviously left it here on purpose. There is no one coming back for this child any time soon, but...what are we supposed to do? Raise it? Micky, we can't even support ourselves. How would we even—"

"We could, though," Micky cuts in, earning an incredulous look from Davy and the taller male shakes his head, "No, no, hear me out for a second. You said it already; someone just left the kid here and we don't have many other options other than—" "We could take it to the local orphanage," Davy interrupts, eyes flickering down to the child, "Hey, do you think we should bring it inside?"

Micky bites his lip, nodding and then crouching down to take the child, who is bundled up in a blanket, in his arms, a small smile forming as he gets his first look at the baby's face. Davy stands on his tippy toes to see the child, mirroring Micky's smile when he sees it. The front door is shut and suddenly the two of them are sitting on the couch, Micky rocking the child slowly as it sleeps in his arms.

"Have you ever actually seen an orphanage? I wouldn't do that to a child..." The taller male finally responds in a hushed whisper, eyes glued on the baby. Davy scoots over to get a better look at the child, his side ending up pressed against Micky's, but neither of them seem to notice. "Yeah, but..." Davy starts, in the same hushed tone, looking up at Micky and noticing how close they were. He quickly moves over just a bit, biting his lip and waiting until Micky finally looked at him, "Mick, we can't...we can't just keep it. There's no documentation; no birth certificate, no information, no name...hell, Micky, we don't even know if it's a girl or a boy."

The white blanket that the baby was wrapped in didn't give much away and Micky paused for a moment, eventually shrugging just slightly in fear of waking the child, "I mean, the last part can be easily discovered. We could give it a name and we could figure out the documentation stuff later on."

"Are you insane?" Davy asks, whisper yelling at the older male, "Micky, we can't raise a child. Kids are expensive; you'd need a crib, formula, diapers, toys...money doesn't grow on trees. Besides, we're two guys in a band. And we're sure as hell not cut out to be parents."

Another silent pause before Micky whispers again, still calm, "Just...give it a week? We'll try it out for a week and if we can't handle it...we'll take it to the police or something. I don't know. But I can't just give up that easily, Davy. I know we're not exactly the typical American parents, but...it can't hurt to try, can it? Please? All I'm asking for is a week."

Davy chews on his lip, eyes flickering between Micky and the child, and sighs, dropping his head into his hands, "Fine," he caves, massaging his temples with his hands, "We'll give it a week. But that's it, Micky. Seven days."

"You what?"

Those are the first two words out of Mike's mouth after Davy explains the situation at hand. Micky thought it'd be better if the child, who they still didn't know the gender of and who was still napping, wasn't thrust into their other bandmate's faces right away in fear of them automatically saying no to everything. So they chose fingers and Davy lost ("Oh, but of course. It's always the short one that loses."), giving Micky the opportunity to stay with the child in his bedroom while Davy was forced to explain exactly what had happened to them earlier in the day.

Davy bites his lip, eyes flickering at the bedroom door and then back to Mike and Peter. Peter seemed indifferent to the situation but Mike seemed very, very, very different to the situation, loudly voicing his opinion, "You can't raise a child. There's no way on this God given earth thatyou or Micky or anyone in this house could raise a child." Davy shushes him, pointing at the upstairs bedroom from where he was standing in the middle of the living room and then bringing his finger to his lips,

"Listen, Mike, I don't exactly like the idea of this either. But...you know how Micky is. He got attached to the little bugger the moment he saw it. I promised him a week, that's it, and if by the end of next Saturday we prove to be the worst parents on the entire planet, we'll take it to the police."

"It?" Mike asks, gaping at Davy, "You don't even know what the baby is?"

The shorter male shrugs innocently, "I won't let Micky until you agree with it. The last thing we need is for him to get even more attached. Once he finds out the gender, he starts thinking of names...it would just be even worse than it is now."

Peter nudges Mike, who looks at him immediately, "What, Pete?" He asks and the blond looks like he's in deep thought for a moment before speaking, "I think you should let them. It's not like we have anything else to do around here. Besides, it could teach them responsibility. Like a guinea pig...or a chinchilla...or a kitty cat...or a python—"

"Alright, Peter, thank you. I get the point," The Texan interferes, groaning and standing up, causing Davy to look up at him as he walks towards him.

"I'll give you the week," Mike finally agrees, earning a small smile from Davy which the older male immediately squashes, "But a child is most definitely not like a pet. Children are hard work and I expect you both to act like responsible parents. This isn't a game, Davy, you're taking care of a little human being who will, hopefully, someday grow to be taller than you. Don't fuck it up."

Davy nods quickly, grinning and running up the spiral staircase, almost tripping at least twice because his pants were too long for his legs. He opens the door and Micky's head immediately shoots up with a hopeful look in his eyes.

All Davy does is nod, grin never leaving his face.

Micky and Davy stare at each other, expecting the other to finally cave. It'd been like this for what felt like hours now, the both of them being too stubborn to just get it over with.

"You do it," Davy finally says, eyes never leaving Micky.

"No, you," Micky counters childishly, causing the shorter male to groan and roll his eyes, pushing Micky's face away from him and focusing his attention on the baby, who was lying there, now awake, staring up at them curiously with big, blue eyes.

They had unraveled the baby from it's blanket a bit earlier, finding that the child had light brown hair and really didn't look much like either of them but regardless, it was adorable. However, then came the task of finding out exactly what they had on their hands, thus causing the two real babies in the room to initiate the staring contest.

"I swear, Micky, I should slap a diaper on you." Davy snapped, and rather than opening up the diaper he simply lifted the waistband of it, looking inside briefly and then placing it back down. He turns to Micky, reaching up and patting him on the shoulder.

"Well, congratulations, Mrs. Dolenz. It's a baby girl."

Micky glares at him, proceeding to flick him in the forehead and grinning as Davy winces. He picks up the baby girl, smile growing wider as she stares at him with the same curious look she'd had on before. "How old do you think she is?" Micky asks curiously, eyes moving to look at Davy, who now has his hand over his forehead. Davy glares, rubbing his forehead and using his other arm to shrug.

"Mm, dunno, a few weeks? Maybe a month? She doesn't look like a newborn, but she sure as hell can't be much older than a month or two...never mind all that right now, though. This baby needs a name." Davy sits down on Mike's bed as Micky sits on his own, and the two of them stare across at each other, Micky holding the baby and Davy fumbling with his fingers as the two of them start rattling off names.

"Well...what about Amy?" Micky asks curiously, to which Davy makes a disgusted face and shakes his head,

"God, no, I dated an Amy a few months ago. She reminded me of the worst things in life...Jane?"

"That's so plain," Micky replies, rocking the baby in his arms and he notices her starting to nod off again, "Katie? Or Kate, maybe?"

"I dated both a Kate and a Katie last month. Come on, Mick, don't you know who I've dated?"

Micky stifles a laugh, although trying to keep his voice low, "No. You have a new girlfriend every week; it's hard to keep track. If you're so keen on picking a name of someone you haven't dated, we'll be here all week."

"Shut up, I haven't dated that many people."

The taller male snorts.

"I said shut up. Hm...Jessica?"

Micky mocks his 'I said shut up' and sticks his tongue out, then rolls it back into his mouth and shakes his head, "I dated a Jessica a few months ago," and, in another mocking tone, "What, Davy, don't you know who I've dated?"

"Y'know," Davy begins, "I would throw something at you right now if it wasn't for her. And I'd laugh the hardest I ever have when you spazzed right off the bed."

"I do not spaz," Micky retorts, "I gracefully flail around..." He trails off, a thought popping into his head, before he grins wide and announces, "Hey...hey that's it!"

Davy shushes him, pointing at the child in Micky's arms and then looking at him with a confused expression, "Indoor voice, Micky, indoor voice. And what's it?"

"Grace. It's perfect."

"Listen, if she's anything like you, it most definitely isn't."

Micky rolls his eyes, "Oh, come on. You have to admit it's cute. We could call her Gracie as a nickname and, considering she's not actually our kid, I hardly doubt she could be as clumsy as me."

Davy pauses a few moments to think about it, looking down at his lap, before he chuckles softly and flickers his eyes back Micky.

"Alright. Grace it is."