The next month fluttered by without a hitch for Mike and Micky. Micky was walking on air the entire time, his head well and truly stuck in the clouds. Mike was equally as happy, but he managed to keep his feet on the ground. Micky and Mike spent every spare moment together, and they mainly kept themselves to themselves, spending their time more or less equally between each of their houses. It was only the weekends that they were apart, when Mike's children stayed with him. Other than that, they spent most nights together. Micky stopped going out as much, telling people he was busy "getting over" his relationship with Samantha. Micky still felt a little guilty, and he didn't like lying to everyone, but he was too happy to let it bother him too much. Everything was going swimmingly.

It was now the eve of the bands summer tour. Rehearsals had been a success a couple of weeks before, and Mike, Micky and Davy felt totally prepared for two months on the road. Mike had spent the day with his children, as he wouldn't get to see them again for several weeks, and now he and Micky were enjoying their last night at home together.

Micky sat on the couch with his head buried in a book, and Mike sat beside the slightly younger man. Mike had tried to pay attention to the TV, but it was in vain - he was too distracted by Micky. Mike loved watching Micky read. Micky, as always, was so animated - even when he was reading. Mike felt like he knew what was happening in the book without reading it himself, thanks to Micky's gasps, his laughter, his smiles and his frowns. Mike thought Micky was absolutely lovely, his flat face scrunched up as he read a particularly dramatic part of his science-fiction novel. Micky also wore his glasses which Mike too found adorable.

Mike had totally given up on watching the TV, instead choosing to watch Micky instead; Micky was far more entertaining, after all. Mike watched his boy with an amused smile on his face, and he had no idea how long he'd been staring at the curly haired man next to him - it must've been 10 minutes at least. Micky was in his own little world, and he hadn't noticed he was being gazed at intently by the Texan beside him.

Micky finished a chapter. As he paused to turn the page, he glanced up at Mike and noticed his partner staring at him with that same amused look.

"What are you looking at?" Micky asked, confused.

The fact that Micky was clueless only made him even more adorable in Mike's eyes. "Nothin'." Mike replied, still wearing an amused expression.

"Have I got something on my face?" Micky asked, wondering if he had chocolate on him from earlier. He wiped his face with his hand.

Mike let out a little chuckle. "No, you ain't got nothin' on your face."

Micky gave Mike a suspicious look before turning to his book once more. Micky stared at the page blankly, still feeling Mike's eyes on him. When Micky looked up again, Mike was still watching him with a face that looked as if he was being totally entertained.

Micky grabbed his bookmark that sat on the arm of the chair, and closed his book up, turning to face the Texan again. "Come on, why are you looking at me like that?" Micky pressed, a confused smile on his face.

Mike shrugged, teasing Micky.

Micky liked games, but at the same time he wanted to know what Mike was thinking. Micky pulled the cushion out from behind him and threw it at Mike playfully. "Tell me!" He giggled.

Mike laughed. "'Cause you're adorable when you read, that's why."

Micky looked totally confused. "Why? I'm not doing anything."

Mike laughed. "Oh baby... You're always doin' something. That face never stops."

Micky frowned, failing to understand what Mike was talking about. "I don't get it. You're really weird."

Mike laughed even more. "And you're cute."

"Are you making fun of me?" Micky asked, still eyeing the Texan with amused suspicion. "Is it because I have to wear these stupid glasses?"

"You know I love your glasses." Mike smiled. "They make you look... well, I was gonna say sophisticated, but I don't think you could ever look sophisticated..."

"Hey!" Micky giggled, grabbing the cushion and hitting Mike playfully once more. "You're so mean to me."

"You know I'm messin' with ya, babe." Mike beamed. "I love your glasses. And I love watchin' you read."

"You big weirdo." Micky smiled bashfully.

"You can carry on with your book, I don't mind." Mike told him.

"Nah, I'm finished for tonight. I'll save some for the flight tomorrow." Micky stretched his legs out.

Mike still wore a smile, but his face turned more serious. "You know it's all gonna change from tomorrow, don't ya?"

"Well, not really." Micky replied. "We're still gonna get to be together every day. Actually, we'll be together more."

"Yeah, but it ain't gonna be the same." Mike gave Micky a knowing look. "We're gonna be around other people all the time. It ain't like we're gonna be alone."

"But we'll make time for each other, won't we?" Micky asked. "It'll be easy. We can just sneak into each other's hotel rooms at night."

Micky grinned, but Mike's face fell, and the Texan instantly looked uncomfortable. "I don't know about that, Micky."

"Why?" Micky frowned. "You know how it works; it'll be the same as always. Me, you and Davy will have the whole floor to ourselves. It's not like there'll be anyone else around."

"Yeah, and our rooms are all next to each other." Mike said seriously. "I don't really want us, you know, together in one room, with Davy in the next."

"Well we'll go to whoever's room isn't next to Davy's." Micky suggested.

"And what if Davy's room is in the middle?" Mike wondered.

"Jesus, Mike." Micky sighed. "You don't half make it difficult, do you?"

"I ain't makin' it difficult. I'm just bein' practical." Mike responded.

Micky sighed again. "Look, it'll be fine. Davy won't hear anything - I'll be quiet. I can be quiet, you know. Or you can put a pillow over my face or something."

"Micky." Mike gave the younger man a stern look.

"I'm just kidding... sort of." Micky hit back. "But come on, what do take me for? I don't expect us to have loud and wild sex with Davy in the next room. I'm hardly going to be screaming through the wall; "Mike! Mike! Harder! Go harder!" with Davy next door."

Mike stared at Micky.

"We don't even have to have sex. A kiss and a cuddle will do me fine." Micky went on. "Unless you're saying we're not going to be together at all for the next two months?"

"That ain't what I'm saying." Mike sighed. "I just... I don't know. We need to be careful."

"And we will be." Micky assured him. "It's not like we have to do it every single night. But I'd at least like us to have some quality time together now and then. Like I said, it'll just be us three on the entire floor."

Mike rubbed his head. "I suppose." He conceded. "We just can't let anythin' stuff this up, Mick."

"Nothing will." Micky replied, looking at Mike with hope. "It's going to be amazing. We'll get to be together every day, play shows every night, visit all these groovy cities. It's going to be epic, man."

Mike smiled reluctantly. "You do know it ain't gonna be simple though, don't you? And I ain't just talkin' about us sneaking into each other's hotel rooms at night."

Micky looked at Mike blankly.

Mike sighed. "This past month has been incredible... It's probably been the best month of my life. But we've been in our little bubble, Mick, just you and me. No one else. How many times have we really been around people, together, since we've been together? Apart from the tour rehearsals, we ain't. And that was work; we were so busy practicing and figuring out what we're gonna do that we didn't have time to hang out and chit-chat with everyone. This next couple of months is gonna be different. There's going to be long flights, long car rides, so much spare time to kill. You, me, Davy, the crew. Just hangin' out. And it ain't gonna be like when me and you hang out. We ain't gonna be us."

"Well I know that." Micky looked a little put out, folding his arms. "I hardly expect us to be kissing and holding hands in front of everyone."

Mike smiled sadly. "That ain't what I mean, babe." He said gently. "But we don't need to be doin' that to make people think there's something going on here. Just because we won't be kissin' or anythin' it don't mean we can't give off signals. All it takes is one look, one touch, one word without thinking, and that's it."

"But we won't do that." Micky frowned.

Mike sighed. "We're so natural together, Mick. When I'm with you, I feel this energy... It ain't just a sexual thing, but there's this fire between us. This atmosphere. Do you feel that too?"

"Well of course I do. You know I do." Micky replied, watching Mike curiously.

"We've been in our bubble for the past month and that's been amazing, but tomorrow our bubble will burst and we have to go back to the real world." Mike explained. "Think about how it's been for us these past four weeks. Now think about how we're going to have to put a lid on it all. It ain't gonna be as easy as you think, babe."

Micky was thoughtful, taking in what Mike said. "I guess..." He said quietly.

"I ain't sayin' we're gonna grab each other and start makin' out in front of everyone." Mike continued. "But at the end of the day, we can't be ourselves, not really. We have to put a guard up. We can't afford to raise anyone's suspicions for even a second. Once can may be ignored, but two or three times? We have to be really, really careful, Mick. We're going to have to work really hard to make sure we contain what we have. I don't want anyone messin' this up for us."

Micky sighed deeply, nodding his head. "I suppose..." He scratched his head thoughtfully. "I mean, we are good together. And, like, we are a proper couple now. And I guess you're right when you say there's more obvious signs two people are together than just kissing or holding hands. I guess it will be hard to not be couple-y with you."

"It'll be hard for both of us, babe." Mike scooted closer to Micky on the couch. "We both have to work hard at this. It'd be different if it was only one of us there, but we'll both be there. We'll be there together, every day, around everyone else."

"But we won't really be together." Micky looked Mike in the eye.

"Exactly." Mike gave Micky a loving look.

Micky sighed once more, looking ahead. He then looked back at Mike. "Man... I'm going to miss you."

Mike smiled sadly. "We'll try our best to make time for each other, but it ain't always gonna be easy. If one of us gets caught sneakin' into the others room late at night once, we might be able to talk ourselves out of it, make up some excuse. But all it takes is the same person to catch us more than once and we're screwed, Micky."

"I know." Micky nodded, looking down. Yet again he sighed sadly. "I wish it didn't have to be so hard."

"I know, babe." Mike stretched his arm around his partner. "But we'll make it work."

Micky looked up at the Texan. "We just have to be really careful."

Mike nodded. "Exactly." He whispered, carefully stroking Micky's face. "We have to protect us."

Micky managed to smile. "It's lucky I love you."

"It's because we love each other that we're willing to do this." Mike said honestly. "There's no way we'd risk all this if this was just some meaningless fling."

The flight to New York was long, and even in the plush seats of their own personal plane - The Monkee Express - after several hours it became uncomfortable. Micky was both anxious and excited about the coming weeks; he was excited that the band were back on the road again after quite a long absence from touring, but he was also nervous about how the tour would affect his relationship with Mike.

Micky tried to read a book, but after an hour or two he got distracted. Mike was sat the other side of the plane, and Micky glanced at his partner to see Mike resting his head on his hand, gazing out of the window longingly. Micky knew Mike wasn't a big fan of flying. Long flights didn't bother Micky apart from the fact that he got incredibly bored. Usually Micky would be with the others, playing cards or truth or dare or some silly game like that, but all Micky really wanted to do to kill the time was sit with Mike.

Micky's mind seemed to go into overdrive. Already he was finding it difficult that he and Mike couldn't be 'together' as they had been for the past month. More than anything, Micky wanted to sit next to Mike. Just resting his head on Mike's shoulder, or having Mike play with his curly hair, would make time go faster. When the plane hit some pretty rough turbulence, Micky instinctively stood - bad move, seeing as the plane was rocking back and forth - to go sit beside Mike, knowing how nervous Mike got when the flight was rough. Micky instantly fell back into his chair, and Mike glared at him from across the plane, knowing exactly that Micky was planning on joining him and silently scolding him for it.

So Micky sat back, shooting glances at his Texan lover to ensure that Mike was okay, until the turbulence passed. When Micky could see Mike visibly relax, Micky relaxed too - but only a little. Maybe Mike was right, and this trip wasn't going to be as easy as he first thought.

It was all systems go once they landed in New York. After quickly checking into the hotel, the band had a couple of meetings and a brief interview which took them into the evening. It had been a long day, and everyone was spent, so they all ended up retiring to their rooms for an early night ahead of another busy day tomorrow.

The following day was another tough day for Micky. The band had press engagements all day long, and Micky and Mike didn't find themselves alone even once. Micky tried to sneak Mike a loving glance when everyone's backs were turned, but Mike wouldn't even look him in the eye. Mike was giving absolutely nothing away, and Micky was feeling a little frustrated.

The group were now backstage in the venue ahead of the night's concert. They'd had a successful day of interviews with local newspapers and radio stations, and the sound check earlier on had gone smoothly. Micky, Mike and Davy were in their dressing room, and the three of them were itching to get on stage.

"I forgot how annoying this part is." Davy sighed, pacing the room. "This waiting around is rubbish."

Micky looked at his watch. "We've still got an hour to go." He said, jittering nervously. "Man, it feels like forever since we've done this."

"I just hope people still give a shit about us, to be honest." Davy added.

"It's a full house tonight, ain't it?" Mike asked, casually strumming his guitar to keep himself relaxed.

"Yeah but it don't mean they won't think we're shit." Davy sighed.

"Don't say that!" Micky gasped.

Mike glared at Davy, sensing Micky's nerves and feeling annoyed that Davy was adding to them. "It'll be fine." He said sternly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Davy conceded. "Sorry, I'm just itching to get out there."

"I'm just glad people still want to see us." Micky said thoughtfully. "We have to put on a really great show tonight, guys."

Davy nodded in agreement. "Sound check went well. I think we'll be alright."

"We'll be fine." Mike said once more, still strumming his guitar and appearing cool and calm. On the inside though, he was just as anxious as the others - he just did a better job at hiding it.

"I'm going to call Linda," Davy announced. "I said I'd give her a bell before we go on. Back in a sec."

Micky nodded, and Davy left the room in search of a phone. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Micky hopped up from where he was sitting and plopped himself down next to Mike on the couch.

Micky lightly jabbed Mike in the arm. "Hello." He said with a smile.

Mike shifted a little, putting a little space between himself and Micky. "Hi." He said coolly.

Micky touched Mike's arm gently. "Can I kiss you?" Micky asked. He tilted his head to the side and looked at Mike with puppy-dog eyes.

Mike quickly pulled his arm away from Micky's touch. "Are you crazy?" He asked in a stern, hushed tone.

Micky looked disappointed. "But I've hardly seen you." He said sadly.

"You've been with me all day." Mike hit back, scooting further down the couch away from Micky.

"You know that's not what I mean." Micky said, his eyes narrowing. "We haven't had any time together."

"Anyone could walk through that door at any second." Mike warned, shooting a nervous glance towards the door.

"Well can we see each other tonight?" Micky asked.

Mike shifted awkwardly in his seat. "You know we're having drinks after the show."

"Well after that then." Micky pressed. "I can come to your room."

"I don't know, Micky." Mike said bluntly, feeling stressed out that they were even having this conversation when someone could walk in at any moment.

Micky wore an annoyed expression, and he stood up, returning to where he'd sat before, slumping down and folding his arms.

Mike looked at his lover, and it was obvious that Micky was far from pleased. "Don't be like that." Mike sighed.

Micky simply looked at the Texan.

Mike was irked that Micky was annoyed with him, and he went back to strumming his guitar. "You knew it had to be like this." He said quietly, his tone a little frosty.

"Yeah..." Micky muttered. He leaned forward, grabbed his drumsticks off the table and started drumming the arm of his chair.

Mike shot a glance at his curly-haired boy, and he rolled his eyes at Micky's obvious displeasure. "It's barely been two days. You better start gettin' used to it." He said, focussing on his guitar.

Mike heard Micky sigh. Mike looked up at Micky again to see his brows knitted together, a frustrated look on Micky's boyish face. Mike couldn't help but think Micky looked adorable, even when clearly annoyed, but there was no way Mike was giving into the slightly younger man. This was the way it had to be, and Micky needed to get used to it.

"I miss you, that's all." Micky said quietly, his tone both irritated and sad.

Mike closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "I do too. But it's only been a day, Micky."

Micky looked up, and he stopped drumming the arm of his chair. "Sorry." He said in a small voice.

Mike thawed, and he gave his partner a little smile.

"It's hard being around you and not being able to kiss you or touch you or tell you that I love you." Micky continued.

Mike tensed up once more, looking nervously towards the door. There was already noise pulsing through the venue, as their support act for the night was already playing their set, and Mike was nervous that someone would burst through the door without hearing their approach.

"We can't talk about this here." Mike said quietly, his palms feeling a little sweaty. The words left his mouth a little blunter than intended.

Micky didn't say anything, he just looked away and went back to drumming the arm of his chair.

The show was a success. After a slightly shaky start, the band soon got into the swing of things and once they had relaxed they put on a great show that the audience clearly loved. The hotel had closed off their bar to the public, so it was only the band, the crew and their management that were having a private party to celebrate the start of their new summer tour.

A few hours had passed and the drinks were flowing. Everyone was enjoying themselves, still buzzing from the great show earlier on. Everyone apart from Mike, that was. Mike was getting increasingly uncomfortable with Micky's behaviour. Micky hadn't done anything wrong, but he was drinking a lot, and it made Mike nervous. With every sip of alcohol that passed Micky's lips, he seemed to get louder and louder, talk more and more, and appear to have less and less control over what was coming out of his mouth.

Mike was nervous. The more Micky drunk, the more nervous Mike became, wondering if Micky was going to accidently spill their little secret there and then in front of everyone. Mike felt like he was sitting on broken glass, his breath almost permanently held in fear of Micky spilling the beans.

Mike knew Micky would never do anything on purpose, but that was beside the point; Micky had a big mouth at the best of times, let alone when he was close to being wasted. Mike felt even worse when Micky sat down beside him, right up close to him in the booth, leaving very little space between them. Micky sometimes gave Mike a goofy smile too, and Mike felt himself get hot under the collar in fear of anyone reading too much into these little moments.

Mike was paranoid, and he admitted that to himself. Mike felt like everyone was watching him and Micky, as if everyone was waiting for them to slip up. The rational side of Mike's brain told him that was complete rubbish, but he couldn't help but feel concerned. Scared, actually. Mike felt scared. One wrong move to raise someone's suspicions and the cat could be out of the bag for good.

As the time passed, Mike did try to enjoy himself - but it was pointless. Mike was getting irritated by Micky's carefree attitude, and at about 1:30am Mike decided enough was enough.

"Right, I'm goin' to bed." Mike said, standing up.

Micky leapt up next to him. "Nooo! Don't go yet." Micky protested, poking his bottom lip out.

Mike felt the heat rise in his face as Micky gave him a disappointed look. The moment got even worse when Micky flung his arm around Mike's shoulder. "Stay a little longer." Micky slurred, pulling Mike close.

On the inside, Mike was filled with panic, but he managed to maintain a calm exterior as he carefully removed Micky's arm from his shoulder. "No. I'm tired."

"Don't forget, do what you want in the morning as long as you're ready by 12:30. The car will be here to collect you then." Bobby, the group's assistant, reminded Mike.

"I don't think it's me who's gonna forget, do you?" Mike asked, trying to ignore Micky's pouty face that was staring at him.

"See ya tomorrow, Mike." Davy called.

Mike nodded, refusing the even look at Micky again, and he swiftly exited the bar and went upstairs to his room on the 5th floor.

Mike was now stressed out and angry. Nobody appeared to bat an eyelid at Micky's little display, because that was Micky being Micky, but Mike was far from pleased with how the night had turned out. Mike was angry that Micky didn't seem to have any worries in the world; Micky was more than happy to ask for a kiss in a dressing room with an unlocked door that anyone could walk into at any second, or get himself so drunk that he had no control over what he was doing or saying. Micky didn't care, and that wound Mike up more than anything.

Mike laid awake in bed thinking about his reckless partner. Was he being too hard on Micky? Was he overreacting? Or were his feelings and fears justified? Mike had no idea. All he knew was that he had an overwhelming urge to protect what he and Micky had, and more than anything else, Mike had an overwhelming urge to protect Micky.

It took a few moments for Mike to process what he was hearing. Mike managed to force his eyes open, suddenly remembering where he was. Everything was a bit blurry - Mike had no clue what the time was, or how long he'd been asleep. Mike blinked hard a few times, his mind starting to click into gear after being so rudely awoken by that awful knocking sound-

A knocking sound. Knocking. On the door. Someone was knocking on the door. Mike became awake enough to process what was going on, and he more or less leapt out of bed, hurrying towards the door as the knocking got louder and louder.

Mike opened the door to find Micky standing outside, a drunken grin spreading over his face as he laid eyes on the Texan.

"Hey you." Micky grinned, swaying on the spot.

Mike was furious, and he poked his head out of the door, looking both ways down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. Mike then grabbed Micky by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him into the room, hastily closing the door behind him.

"What the hell are you playing at?!" Mike asked, his voice hushed but his tone angry.

Micky flung his arms around Mike's neck. "I wa-wanted to see you." He slurred.

Mike was aghast, and he pushed Micky away from him, storming further into his room and running his fingers through his hair. He turned to look at Micky, who was now standing there looking totally confused.

"You can't go bangin' on my door in the middle of the night, are you tryin' to wake up the whole hotel?!" Mike asked, trying to keep as quiet as possible which was hard when he was so angry.

Micky's face fell. "But-But there's no one else on the floor." He frowned.

"What about Davy?!" Mike questioned, his face scrunched up in disbelief at Micky's recklessness. "Jesus Micky, when are you gonna damn-well grow up?"

Micky looked like a puppy who'd been scolded for peeing on the carpet. "I'm sorry." He said. "I wanted to see you."

"Yeah, so you said." Mike hit back.

"I don't know- I don't know why you're getting so angry with me." Micky slurred, his voice quite loud in his drunken state. "Like it's a-a crime to want to see you."

"Will you keep your voice down?" Mike asked, striding forward and glaring at his lover. "Are you tryin' to get us busted already? We've only been here a day for Christ's sakes!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Micky asked, his voice quieter this time, but a stupid look still plastered on his face as he failed to understand why Mike was so irritated.

Mike was almost at a loss for words, and he put both hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tried to keep his cool.

"Don't be mad, baby." Micky said, reaching out to touch Mike. "I've missed you today. And yesterday and-and all the days."

Mike pulled his face out of his hands, and he stared at his partner in dismay. "Do you seriously not get it, Micky?" He asked. Micky stared at him blankly. "You can't go knocking on my door in the middle of the night! What if Davy heard ya, or someone else? What if they asked you what the hell you were doing?"

"I dunno." Micky shrugged. "I'd tell them that I'd got the wrong room or I was playing around or-or something."

"And what about downstairs, huh? You putting your arm around me, asking me not to leave? What was that all about, Micky?" Mike snapped.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Micky said in his defence. "You're just being dramat-dramatic. The only person who cares about that shit is you, it's just you."

Mike shook his head, turning his back on Micky and rubbing his face with his hand. Mike had no idea how to handle Micky like this, and he felt like he was using all his strength not to grab Micky by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

After a few seconds, Mike felt a pair of arms snake around his waist from behind, and some soft lips press against the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry." Micky breathed, causing the hairs on the back of Mike's neck to stand on end. "I've been bad... Let me make it up to you."

Mike closed his eyes as Micky's lips touched his skin once more, but Mike opted to think with his brain instead of his crotch, and he quickly wriggled out of Micky's grasp.

"No, Micky." Mike said, his voice hard as he faced his lover once more. "You can't just behave like that and expect to get away with it."

Micky wore that puppy-dog look again, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Mike in disappointment. "But-"

"No buts." Mike warned. "I want you to leave. Now."

Micky stepped forward, reaching out for Mike once more. "Can't I stay with you?" He asked, his voice soft and high. "I'm here now."

"No. Go back to your room, sober up and get some fuckin' sleep." Mike spat. "And while you're at it, how about trying to learn some god-damn responsibility?"

Micky stood there for a few moments just staring sadly at the Texan. He finally hung his head and stumbled towards the door. Mike followed his boy, ensuring that he left. Mike let Micky out into the hallway, and Mike poked his head out once more, checking both ways to make sure nobody was around. He then watched as Micky slowly and solemnly walked the short distance to his own room, and once Mike was satisfied that Micky was safely inside, he shut the door and took a deep breath, part from relief that Micky had got away unseen, and part from the stress that Micky was already beginning to cause him.