Part five: Big Changes

Chapter one: Just a Game

A few hours had passed and Micky still had not returned from his walk. Despite this and the prior events, everything had calmed down enough for everyone to be able to relax. Peter and Davy hung out, talking in the living room while Mike and Trixie cozily lied with each other in the upstairs bedroom. Trixie lied, partly stretched across Mike's bed and curled up next to him. She rested her hand on her belly, gently rubbing it.

"What do you hope for, Mike?"

Mike sighed a little as he stared at an undisclosed spot across the room. It was clear that his mind was elsewhere and he had not noticed Trixie's question. He lightly tapped the side of his face and slowly released a breath of air through his nose. Looking up at him, frowning, Trixie got his attention by saying his name.

"What's that?" He asked with a slight tone of indifference.

"I just asked about the baby… what do you hope it will be, a boy or a girl?" she smiled softly

"I don't know." He shrugged a little "Might be nice to have a boy."

She took his arm and wrapped it around her waist, and moved in closer to him. "Michael you're distant. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." He said with a sigh. "I'm fine. Just have a lot on my mind."

Trixie nodded before resting her head on his chest. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened. You're really stressed, aren't you?"

Mike remained silent for a moment. "Micky could be inside one of those sculptures right now."

"Peter saved him though. Sammy isn't possessed any more. Micky is okay. Heartbroken, maybe, but okay."

Mike nodded and became silent again. After a couple minutes, partly with sighs included, he spoke up again. "He fell so hard for her in such a short time and she nearly trapped him… just like the other people. Micky might be safe but the others aren't. There's still other people trapped in that art."

Trixie looked up at him with a slight frown. "They still might be able to be saved, Mike. I don't know what else you want me to say. I wish I could make that thing appear to you so you can destroy it. We'll just have to keep an eye out." She looked away and sighed, rubbing her belly.

Just downstairs, Peter and Davy took advantage of the quiet, empty living room by relaxing and talking on the couch. This peaceful moment only lasted a little bit before the front door swung open, snapping their attention to Micky standing there. His appearance was a bit disheveled and paired with a clearly disgruntled attitude, it was clear to the other men that he had a lot to drink. Knowing that conversation was not going to go well with him in this state, they both sat there, staring at him like two timid deer caught by the lights of an oncoming vehicle.

Micky took a few staggered steps towards the couch. His eyes were narrowed and lips were in a fixed frown brought on by a world of negative thoughts. He pointed a finger, nearly directly at Davy, and it hung there mid-air, shaking as though keeping it up was highly difficult.

"Where's Mike?" his question was half-grunted and came with a slight slur.

"Um, he's upstairs with Trixie."

With a snort and a smirk, Micky turned toward the staircase. He staggered a bit but wound up slowing down as he climbed the stairs, in order to keep his balance. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he tore open the door to the bedroom. Mike and Trixie immediately separated and looked over at him, showing they weren't pleased by the crude interruption. Micky sneered, clearly not caring about their unspoken desires for him to leave.

"Well, well, well… the lovebirds." He said with a cruel tone. "You two havin' sex?"

Mike frowned, displeased, and raised an eyebrow. "Micky, you're drunk. What do you want?"

"Silly Michael." He grinned "I want you." He moved closer to the bed with a seductive swagger. "I want you… no one else can satisfy me. I want my Mikey." Practically shoving Trixie aside, he crawled onto the bed and placed a deep, though somewhat sloppy, kiss upon Mike.

Mike quickly pulled away from the kiss and shoved Micky backwards away from him. "What the hell, Micky?!" he glared at him "Get out of here! Go sober up!"

"No… I don't need to be sober." Micky moved in closer and placed his hand over Mike's crotch, rubbing it. "Lemme see that big cock… or would you rather suck me off again?" he turned his head to look at Trixie with a smirk "He ever tell you about that?"

Trixie shoved him away "Micky, get out of here!" She frowned "Listen to Mike and go sleep it off."

With no desire to talk seriously with him, or to put up with any more of Micky's drunken display, Mike grabbed Micky furiously by the arm and slammed him to the floor. "I'm not messin' around with you, Mick. You're pissing me off right now so you best get your ass downstairs and out of my sight before I throw you downstairs through the floor."

Micky looked up at him and smirked before bringing himself to his feet. "You don't have the guts, Mike." He slurred, poking him in the chest. "You wouldn't dare. I mean, that could kill me." He snorted and reached for Mike's crotch again. "You know you want it, Michael. I know you do. I see it in your eyes."

Not wasting any time, and with his anger rising to its tipping point, Mike picked Micky up, slinging him over his shoulder. He carried him out of the room and part way down the stairs before tossing him to the bottom step.

"Now you stay down here and out of my sight! I don't want you anywhere near me right now!" He glared angrily before looking over at the stunned men on the couch. "You two, keep him down here and help him sober up. I'm too pissed to deal with him right now." Before getting a response, he turned and rushed back up to the bedroom to see Trixie.

Peter and Davy looked up and hurried over to where Micky lay as a crumpled mess at the bottom of the staircase. They bent to try to help him up, as well as to see if he was injured, but he shoved them away. Micky took to his feet, filled with anger and completely dismissed any help from them.

"Get away from me." He glanced up towards the bedroom before storming outside onto the balcony.

Peter stood stiffened with fear and looked wide-eyed at Davy. "What do we do?"

Davy shook his head, completely at a loss for words. Just seconds later, Micky stormed back into the house and straight over to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. Davy frowned as he watched him.

"Micky would you like me to make you a cup of coffee?" Davy asked

"I want you to fuck off and let me drink." Micky snapped at him.

"Micky you've had too much to drink already. Why don't you just cool down and relax a bit?"

"Shut up, Davy!" He hissed "Who are you? My mother?"

Feeling his frustrations beginning to rise, Davy glared and froze Micky into a block of ice. "No, I think you need to cool off a bit."

Watching this interaction, while shaking his head, Peter sighed. "Oh Micky…" His voice showed that he was struggling to hold his grief over the situation.

Micky turned his head towards Davy with a smirk. The ice around him began to glow red and it started slowly melting. Once the ice was soft enough, he quickly broke free and shot a fireball at Davy. Without missing a beat, Davy dodged the fireball, allowing it to soar through the open window behind him.

"What's your problem?!" He shouted while throwing a glare at Micky. "You obviously did something to piss off Mike, now you're pissed at me! I didn't even do anything to you!"

Micky shook with anger "Just shut up! I just want to be alone, okay?!" He stormed out the front door, slamming it closed behind him.

Davy huffed once they were alone. He looked at Peter, still fuming with anger and waving a hand towards the door.

Peter sighed. "Just let him be. You know how he can get. We have to remember that his memory is still gone. I know that doesn't excuse his lashing out at us, but he's got to be confused and still hurting over what happened with Sammy."

Davy frowned and grumbled "I suppose you're right."

"He'll be alright."

Still filled with frustration, Davy shuffled over to the couch. He plopped down with a scowl and uncomfortably tapped on the cushion beside him. Peter's lower lip protruded as he watched Davy. He sighed, not liking the energy in the room, and felt as though it was up to him to fix the mood. Shaking his head, he thought briefly before walking over to the couch.

"Hey." He watched as Davy turned his eyes up to him. "Wanna play a game?" He asked with a forming, sheepish grin.

Meanwhile upstairs, Mike lay stretched out on his bed. He was on his belly with his arms tucked under his pillow. His eyes were pointed at the headboard but their focus was elsewhere as he sulked. He could sense Trixie standing nearby as she watched him sadly. This, he brushed off with a sigh.

Trixie sat beside him and placed a hand on his back. Rubbing his back a little, she hoped that her touch would gather his attention or perhaps heal Mike of his somber air. She grinned slightly, though sadly, when he lifted and turned his head to look back at her.

"Should I leave, hun?" She asked quietly

He glanced away and sighed. "No… I dunno." He covered his face with his hands before pushing his hair back.

Lying down beside him, she cuddled up close and wrapped an arm around him. She lightly stroked the hair on the back of his head, moving her hand down to his back to rest. He opened one eye to look at her then turned onto his side with a small grin. With his full gaze on her now, he rested a hand on her hip.

"Are you alright? I mean, you've just been going through so much with us lately. And that can't be good for you or the baby."

Trixie giggled "I'm fine, Mike. Everything's fine. It's a bit stressed, sure, but I think of the positive things that can happen. We just gotta get through the toughness and hardships of it all." She became quiet for a moment, partly to read his expression, and partly to think. A grin faded into view on her lips. "Mike… what are we going to do when the baby comes?"

Mike hesitated and cleared his throat, taken aback by the question. "Well ah, honestly, I haven't really thought much about that."

"Should we look for a new place to live?"

"That might not be a bad idea."

…

Though skeptical and a bit reluctant at first, Davy decided to go along with Peter's suggestion that they play a game. He felt that this would be, albeit simple, a nice release of the stress weighing down on both of their shoulders, as well as a needed way to cheer themselves up for a few moments. Heading into the kitchen, he began rummaging through a drawer which was filled with numerous odds and ends. He tossed things over his shoulder as he pulled them out of the drawer, disregarding where they landed. With a small laugh, he pulled out a deck of cards.

"Aaha!" He snickered

Before leaving the kitchen, he stopped and spied the vodka bottle that Micky had left on the counter during his fit of drunken rage. Again, Davy laughed and picked up the bottle.

"Say now," he grinned, showing Peter the bottle, "things just got a bit more interesting."

Peter chuckled and began clearing the table. "A drinking game?" he shrugged "Why not?"

Davy placed the bottle and two shot glasses on the table. He sat and began shuffling the cards. "What exactly are we going to play?"

"Doesn't matter to me." Peter sat across from him. "You choose, Davy."

"Alright." He snickered, shuffling the cards in a waterfall effect. "How about war? Every time someone loses, they have to take a shot."

"Sounds good."

Davy sat the cards on the table between them before cutting the deck in half. He placed one half in front of himself and the other in front of Peter. "Ready?" he placed a hand over his stack.

Peter smirked and placed a hand on his own stack. "You?" He tried his best to give Davy an intimidating look. "Let's go."

They each flipped over a card, placing it on the table in front of them. Davy groaned when he saw that his was the lower card.

Peter laughed "Guess you take the shot!"

"Yeah, yeah, just hand it over."

Chuckling, Peter poured a shot and slid it over to Davy. "Here you go."

Davy picked up the shot with a small sigh. He put the small glass to his lips and completely tilted his head back as he swallowed the alcohol at once. He cringed and shook a little as he felt the burn of the alcohol all the way down his throat. As he did this, Peter laughed and clapped his hands.

"Alright, knock it off." Davy rolled his eyes.

They looked at each other, placing their hands on the cards. Then they each flipped a card over. Peter laughed obnoxiously as he saw that Davy once again had the lower card.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Davy groaned

Peter poured another shot and passed it to Davy. "Odds sure aren't looking good for you, huh?"

"Whatever." Davy drank the shot and pounded the glass on the table in front of him. "I'll get you this time."

Peter merely laughed before they flipped over two more cards. The cards this time showed the same number. This prompted the men to exclaim "war" before they quickly flipped several cards in a row. Finally, a card that Peter overturned was a lower one that Davy had, causing Davy to start laughing.

He pointed a finger at him. "Tables have turned, Tork." He poured a shot and slid it over to Peter. "Drink up."

Peter picked up the shot. "We'll see where this goes." He quickly drank the shot and sat the glass in front of him before giving Davy a smirk.