He'll Be There - Chapter 1

Title: He’ll Be There
Author: girlwitharubbersoul
Rating: G
Pairing: Micky/April Conquest (with touches of Jork, Torksmith, and Dolenzsmith, but who’s keeping track? IT’S MY FIRST MONKEE FANFIC)
Disclaimer: I do not own The Monkees or any characters from the show. I also do not own James Bond, who happens to be mentioned a few times in the first chapter. This was written for fun.
Summary: Micky hasn't quite gotten over the beautiful April Conquest. But when April asks the boys to play at her wedding reception, something goes wrong.

Chapter 1

When it came to helping friends, there was no other group of friends who tried as hard as The Monkees did to reach out to the people they’ve met in California over the years.  Though gigs and thinking of ways to earn more cash took up a good portion of their time, they wasted no time in getting them out of sticky situations, like if they needed a back-up band to play for them at parties, celebrations, or other such occassions.  Whether they knew these friends from day one, or they were friends for only a day, they were always willing to lend a helping hand, or four.  This time, they happened to help a particular friend they had once fallen for at the same time.

It was actually Mike who first ran into her while he took Davy’s and Peter’s dirty clothes to the laundromat.  Davy had dinner plans with a tiny blonde he met backstage after a gig, while Peter promised to take a tall brunette to see the latest James Bond movie.  Both boys unintentionally decided to go out on the same night, leaving Mike and Micky alone at the pad.  Not only that, but because it was a rare occasion for two Monkees to be out and about with a gal, Mike volunteered to get their evening wear washed, and Micky spent the entire day fixing the car.  “It’s going to be one heck of a night,” Mike thought, lifting the laundry bag on top of a washer.  As he lifted the lid, he took a double take at a familiar face and nearly spilled half the box of soap into the wash.  At her desk in the corner of the laundromat was Miss April Conquest, soon to be a missus judging the strawberry-sized diamond ring perched on her finger.  She must have heard him gasp because she looked right at him.

“Mike?” she whispered, then exclaimed, “Oh, Mike!” She skipped towards him, arms ready for a welcoming hug.

“H-hi, April,” Mike stammered as the blonde hugged him tightly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You know I work here, silly,” she chuckled, letting go. “I’m finally finished with school and have a full time job at the laundromat.”

“Oh. So, your doctor finally decided to work on his thesis?” he chuckled, slapping his knee.

“You still have that goofy sense of humor,” she paused to look around. “Where are the others?”

“Well, I’m taking care of Davy and Peter’s laundry. Y’see, they have big dates tonight, and Micky and I wanted to help out before they took off.”

“How thoughtful of you two. I love to see friends helping friends out.” She patted his head, ever mindful of keeping his wool hat in place.

“Well, when you’re in a band like we are, it’s kind of second nature to help each other out.”

“You four are in a band?” Her eyes sparkled, but not like when she fell in love with them.

“Um, well, yeah. We’re The Monkees. I play guitar, Micky plays drums, Pete plays bass, and Davy, well, Davy does his own thing,” Mike chuckled.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Then, her smile grew. “Mike. You remember my fiancé, Freddy Fox the Third?”

“Yeah, the musician.”

“He and I are getting married next weekend. I know this is last minute, and we haven’t spoken in a while, but would it be all right if you four played for us at our reception? You see, we were going to have Freddy’s band play, but they, well, they had an argument, and the drummer stormed out at the last minute.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. How’s Freddy taking the break-up?”

“Freddy‘s the drummer.” Mike took his hat off and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I can see how you’re in a pickle.”

“Mike, I would love it if you would play for us. Unless,” her voice lowered, “you boys are still distraught from…what happened months ago.”

“What? Oh, no, April, look. We’re not upset over what happened. That was ages ago. No, no. We still like ya. In fact,” he put his hat back on, “We never really apologized to you for putting you in that position in the first place. Technically speaking, it was our fault we each tried to win your heart.” Guilt started creeping into his head with flashbacks of the foursome forcing the poor girl to choose him, attempting to be her perfect man, and the most memorable moment, crashing into Davy’s painting and Micky, causing his motorcycle to collapse.  “The point is, we’ll perform at your reception for you. Our treat, since, y’know it’s last minute, and well, you’re a sweet gal, and we want you to be happy.” April’s eyes sparkled even more as she hugged the Texan once more.

“Thank you, Mike! You are truly a good friend,” she said, kissing his cheek.  

“Aww, you didn’t have to get all sappy on me,” he chuckled, blushing and clutching his hat again.

*****

That afternoon, Mike returned to the pad to find Micky hard at work with his chemistry set, and Davy figuring out which shoes to wear.

“Got your clothes all ready, Davy,” Mike called from the door. “Where’s Peter?”

“He’s in the bathroom, quoting James Bond lines,” Micky said.

“He’s never watched a single one of those movies before,” Davy commented, walking towards the clean laundry.  “And, why is he going to see that movie? He hates guns and violence and all that stuff.”

“He’s just going because the popcorn’s cheap,” Micky replied, carefully pouring two brightly colored chemicals into a beaker.  

“It can’t be,” Davy pointed out, “they jacked up the prices the last time I was there.”

“When was the last time you were there, again?” Mike asked.

“An hour ago with another girl,” Micky answered with a smirk.  

“Well, speaking of girls, guess who I—”

“Hey Mike! Thanks for doing our laundry for us,” Peter chirped, coming out of the bathroom in a bathrobe and blue bunny slippers.  “I really appreciate you going out of your way just so Davy and I can have a good time tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mike! It was very kind of you to do that,” Davy said, patting Mike’s arm.

“I mean, it’s nice of you to do this. I’m sure you’d rather be going on a date yourself, but this is incredibly sweet.”  

“Well, it was nothin’ really,” Mike started as he was interrupted again, this time by a slightly unexpected hug from Peter.

“We’d better get dressed,” Davy chimed. “Thanks again, Mike! Man, should I wear the black shoes with laces, or without laces…”

“I still like the plain, purple business suit idea the best,” Micky commented. Davy threw a sock at him before he and Peter scurried to their room.  Mike took the remaining clothes in the bag and set them next to the couch.

“Well, Mick, looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” he said, plopping on the couch. “What should we do?”

“Maybe you can give me a hand with this.”

“What’cha workin’ on?” Mike said, getting up from the couch and walking towards his friend.

“I’m working up a new vocal ailment that will clear our throats of any gook we have and make our voices sound like the angels’,” Micky said, starry eyed.  Mike took one whiff of the liquid and scrunched his face.

“Micky, I hate to burst your bubble, but we don’t need anything for our voices. They sound just fine.  I don’t see why we’d need this, concoction of yours to fix something that ain’t broken.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Micky dumped the beaker into a trashcan that appeared out of nowhere, causing it to explode.  Micky and Mike coughed and waved away the smoke.

“What happened?” Peter and Davy asked in unison.

“Peter, why are you dressed like that?” Mike asked, ignoring their question and pointing to the tuxedo. “You’re going to the movies, not a royal wedding.”

“But, this is how James Bond dressed in his movie,” Peter answered, “I just wanted to make a good first impression.”

“Yeah, but James Bond kills a bunch of people, too,” Micky commented, “You’re not going on a killing spree, too, are you?”

“No,” Peter answered, scrunching his face at Micky.

“C’mon, fellas. I think he looks nice,” Davy said, “He might be a bit overdressed, but I think his date’s gonna be blown away once she sees how stunning he looks. He even tied his own tie this time.”

“Thanks Davy,” Peter grinned.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the one who picked out his outfit,” Mike commented. Micky nodded his head.

“Well, let’s stop chit-chatting and get going. Shall we, Mr. Tork?”

“We shall, Mr. Jones.” Davy and Peter strutted out the door and drove off to meet their dates.  Micky took off his goggles, letting his curly hair poof out even more.  

“Well, Mr. Nesmith, what shall we get into this evening? Dinner? Billiards? Chasing loose women around the street?” Mike took the goggles and snapped them back onto Micky’s head.

“How about we clean this mess up. Then, we can figure out what we’ll do for dinner.”  

“Sounds logical,” Micky replied, carrying some test tubes to the sink where Mike started washing a beaker.  “By the way, what were you going to say earlier?”

“Oh! You’ll never guess who I saw at the laundromat today,” he said, turning around with a drippy tube.

“April Conquest?”

“How’d you know?”

“Mike, it’s her laundromat. Besides, who else makes you forget what you’re doing right on the spot?” He pointed to the beaker that spilled sudsy water onto his boots.

“Oh. Right.”

“What’d she have to say?”

“Well, she’s getting married to that Freddy Fox dude, an’ she wants us to play during their reception next weekend.” Micky’s test tube slipped from his hands as he tripped on his own foot, causing him to fall, and Mike to catch him in his arms.  Micky smiled up at his friend, who raised a brow in confusion.  

“Is that so?” the drummer asked.

“You bet it is.” Mike helped Micky to his feet.  “The band that was supposed to play broke up, an’, well, I told her we’re play. So, she asked if we could play for them, an’ I told her we couldn’t say no after what happened when we last saw her.”

“Last time?” It took him a minute to remember what Mike meant. “Oh. I see. So, this is sort of an apology for all the pushing and stuff we did when we all…”

“Well, yeah. You could say that, I guess.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”  In his humble opinion, Micky thought the match was still goofier than when Peter got picked to date her.  He still kicked himself for not being himself around her, especially since pretending to like ballet caused several calluses to form on his feet.  But now, she was getting married to this random musician she’d only known for a few months.  He knew it would be difficult keeping all these hidden feelings he had for her that never really went away inside, but he had to if he wanted to win her friendship back.