Author's Note: This is a story by both myself and Plushchrome. It will be set in modern times, but the boys will still be in their 20's. Little AU.

Chapter 1: Brewing Storm

"Alright, Mike, try it now," Micky said sliding out from under the Monkeemobile. He and Mike had just spent the last 4 hours trying to fix the car to no avail. Mike was behind the driver's seat ready to turn it on when Micky asked or handed him various tools when Micky needed them. Mike started the car, but nothing happened and Micky sighed in frustration. "I really don't know what else to try."

"We don't have time to try much else," Mike said looking at his watch. "If we're going to make it to LA for that audition, we have to leave now."

"I know," Micky answered. "And you plan on getting there how? The car won't start."

"Well, maybe we can look into getting a rental," Mike answered.

"We can't really afford that," Micky argued.

"If we get the gig we could," Davy said walking out and handing each of them a glass of water. "We have to go to this gig. It pays nearly a thousand bucks a weekend!"

"Yes, but there's still the issue of not having the money to get the rental car in the first place," Peter added walking outside as well.

"Well, Aunt Kate sent me some money a couple weeks ago that I set aside for emergencies," Mike said. "It's not much, but it'll be enough to get the rental car and get us to the audition."

"But Mike, that was supposed to be a present," Dave protested. "You were supposed to get yourself something nice, not put it in an emergency fund!"

"Well, getting to the gig on time would be nice," Mike quipped. "Look, Davy, it's my money, and I can do what I want with it. And what I wanted to do was set it aside just in case something like this happened. Because let's face it, we've got the worst luck in the world, and something like this always happens."

"Well, at least it can't get any worse," Peter said, right before the first peal of thunder rolled.

"Oh, why'd you have to say something like that, Pete?" Micky asked. "That's like doing a raindance and begging for trouble to find us!"

"Hey, I was just trying to be optimistic!" Peter argued.

"Alright, cool it guys," Mike said before Micky could come up with a witty comeback. "I've already got a headache brewing and we don't have time for this anyway. We still have to walk to the rental car shop."

The boys all agreed and walked to the shop. It took nearly half an hour by foot lugging their instruments with them and Micky sincerely hoped it wasn't going to make them late to the actual audition. Mike paid for the rental car: another nice little convertible similar to their own. As Mike drove to the audition, Micky and the others sat and relaxed. Mike drove a little faster to try and make up for lost time, but it still took them a full hour to get to LA. When they pulled into a parking spot in front of the theatre they'd be auditioning at, Mike jumped out and ran inside to check in; they were about 5 minutes late. The others grabbed the instruments out of the car and carried them inside.

Mike told them that even though they were late, they were still allowed to perform, but they were next. The boys rushed to setup their instruments after the band that had been playing finished and waited for their cue to start from the judges. They played very well, and Micky guessed they nailed their audition. Once their set was over, they packed up and sat to watch the other bands perform. Micky grew more and more disheartened with each new band, as they all sounded amazing. By the time the auditions were over, Micky no longer felt sure about their own performance. There was a very real possibility they would be outdone by one of the other bands. When they walked back out to the car, it had begun sprinkling a little and Mike tried to put the top up on the car. It got jammed several times and took all four of them to get it successfully into position, though Micky wasn't sure it was going to stay that way.

"I really hope they don't charge us for damage to this thing," Mike mused as they tried to find a way to keep it latched down.

"How can they?" Peter said innocently. "It wasn't our fault."

"Yeah, cause everyone's trustworthy," Davy said.

"Yeah, but we are," Peter said.

"Not everyone knows that, Pete," Micky said shaking his head a little. Sometimes Peter just didn't understand. He always saw the best in everyone and that meant that he assumed everyone else did the same. "Look, this is the best we're going to do for now, Mike. But we are very wet and I don't want the seats to get wet and gross, so maybe we should dry off before we drive home."

"There's a coffee shop," Davy offered.

"I was really hoping to just head home," Mike sighed.

"I know, but I also don't want to drive all the way back home in wet clothes," Micky said. "We'll be freezing cold and it'll be very uncomfortable."

"Ok, you have a point," Mike relented. "No reason for us to catch colds." The four of them rushed across the street to the coffee shop just as the rain started to pick up.

"You guys get a table by the fireplace," Micky said pointing to a nice, warm looking fireplace. "I'll get us some coffee."

"Decaf," Mike said. "It's already 9. We don't need to be up all night."

"Right," Micky laughed and walked up to the counter. He paused when he saw a very large sugar cookie sitting in the display case. It was almost calling out to him. He snuck a look back at Mike knowing Mike would probably chastise him for eating that much sugar this late at night, but he didn't really care. He wanted that cookie. He'd worked hard on the car all day and deserved a reward.

"Can I help you?" the pretty young waitress behind the counter asked.

"Yes, four decaf's and that sugar cookie," Micky said.

"Coming right up," the woman answered and set about getting the drinks and cookie once Micky had paid.

"What's that?" Mike asked suspiciously as soon as Micky set the cookie on the table.

"It's a cookie, Mike," Micky said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"I can see that," Mike said irritably. "But what is it doing here?"

"Ooooh, you wanna know what it's doing here," Micky laughed. "Well, um, it's here because it's for us. I bought it, so we could have something to eat while we waited." Mike looked about ready to argue further, but then sighed.

"Whatever," he said. "I have too big of a headache to argue with you right now. You guys go ahead and split it; I don't want any. Just don't come cryin' to me tonight when you can't sleep."

"Deal," Micky said with a smile, breaking the cookie into three separate parts and handing a piece to Davy and Peter. "Thanks, Mike!" Mike just held up a placating hand and sipped his coffee. They talked for a little while as they drank their coffee, comparing notes on the other bands and discussing their chances of winning. After much discussion, they all ended up agreeing: They probably weren't going to win.

"I mean, we did really well," Davy said. "But I think we're just off our game today. Everything seems to be going wrong."

"Yeah, it sure seems that way, doesn't it," Mike noted, looking out the window. "Look, guys, we've been here for almost an hour and it's still raining as hard as ever. We're about as dry as we'll get, our coffee's pretty much done, and I just wanna go home and go to bed. There's no point in hanging around anymore, let's just go." The other Monkees all sighed as they stood up from the table; the fire had been nice and warm. As the others all moved towards the door, Micky stood for a few moments, just staring at the fire.

"Micky, come on," Mike called wearily from the doorway.

"I don't wanna move," Micky whined teasingly. "Mike, don't make me move! Let me just... lie here on the floor by the fire... and sleep all curled up like a cat." It even sounded weird to Micky's mind as he said it, but it was almost ten, and he'd had a long day, and all the sugar he had poured into his coffee when Mike wasn't looking had started to take effect. He laughed a little as he watched the fire.

"Now, this is why you shouldn't have bought that cookie," Mike noted as he came back and took hold of Micky's shirtsleeve, leading him out of the coffeehouse. They all piled into the rental, Davy and Micky climbing into the back seat as Mike got in the driver's seat and Peter took shotgun. Micky stifled a yawn, forcing it into a laugh, as Mike started the car and began the drive home.

"What's so funny?" Davy demanded irritably.

"You are, my little man," Micky said, reaching forward and poking Davy a few times.

"Me!?" Davy exclaimed angrily. "What- Stop poking me! Why're you picking on me!?"

"Because he's tired and hyped up on sugar," Mike answered shortly. "Try to ignore him, don't encourage it."

"Yeah, try to ignore me," Micky said. "Good luck." He began to prattle on and on about nothing and anything and everything, as Mike drove through the streets, windshield wipers going as fast as possible on the windshield, trying to clear the fast-falling rain. At this point, Micky looked over and noticed that there was something jamming the hinge of the convertible top. The top had been holding in place pretty well, but there was a slow trickle of water coming through from all sides.

"Hey!" Micky said. "I think I see what's wrong with the convertible!" Before anyone could say anything, he undid his seatbelt and turned around to kneel on his seat.

"Micky, what are you doing?" Mike demanded, glancing at Micky through the mirror.

"I'm just fixing the top," Micky said as he began trying to pull the obstruction out from the hinge.

"Micky, turn around and put your seatbelt on," Mike ordered. Micky ignored him and continued to examine the hinge. Upon closer inspection, it turned out the obstruction wasn't an obstruction at all, the hinge was warped and the bolt holding it together was half-out.

"Hey, they rented us a junk car," Micky exclaimed angrily, still fiddling with the bolt.

"Micky, please sit down," Peter said, turning around in his seat. "You might get hurt."

"How would I get hurt?" Micky asked, turning to face Peter. "I'm just-" The car hit a small pothole just then, and with a jerk, the bolt came out of the hinge in Micky's hand. He stared down at it in horror as the convertible top squeaked, and then flew open.

"Dammit, Micky!" Mike yelled angrily as rain started pouring in. "Look what you did! I told you to sit down! I told you not to mess with it! Now fix it!"

"Sorry!" Micky exclaimed as he tried to pull the top back up to keep the rain out of the car. He didn't have much time to really work on it though. Micky suddenly saw lights coming toward them, but didn't have time to realize what it was. Time seemed to slow down significantly as Micky felt the car jerk as though something had hit it and he was thrown to the other side of the car. He heard the terrified gasps of his friends over the squealing of tires mixed with crunching metal. In another second, Micky felt himself go airborne as he felt the car start to spin. The next thing he knew, his body hit the rough ground. Rocks and jagged asphalt dug into his arms. Pain erupted in his skull as his head bounced off the ground. Then everything was replaced with blackness.