Genre/Pairing: Mike Nesmith/OFC, Micky Dolenz/OFC, Peter Tork/OFC, and Davy Jones/OFC.

Warnings: Mild languages

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Monkees except for my OCs. I'm just a student in high school who loves them, listens to their music and watch their episodes (all the time) but mostly, I am obsessed with Peter!

Author's note: I thank you my Beta Reader, Izzi (is it okay if I call you that?) for helping me fix the story. Enjoy, and bring peace, freedom, and love for our generation :P

Chapter 1: A Birthday Party Plan

It was an early March Wednesday morning at North Beachwood Drive near a beach in Malibu, thirty-three miles away from Los Angeles, California.

The view of the beach was magnificent. The sun shone brightly against the clear blue sky, the waves crashed against the hot, fresh sand, and seagulls flew in a V formation, headed towards the west-side of town.

The neighborhood in Beachwood was very idyllic; a lawn mower roared loudly at the peaceful street, a couple jogged around the block, and a newspaper boy, threw a newspaper at a two-story beach house, just around the corner of the street. There lived four handsome, young boys named Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith, Peter Tork, and Davy Jones, also known as, The Monkees.

The door at the front porch opened. A young Texan, probably in his twenties, wore a green silky robe with striped pajamas, and sandals. He picked up the newspaper from the floor, and shivered through the chilly weather.

"Mike, get in. It's time for breakfast." A voice called from inside the pad.

"Just give me a sec, will ya Mick?" Mike called back. He opened the newspaper; the smell of the newly printed ink wafted through his nose, and started to read.

Meanwhile, inside the beach house, Micky prepared a Kellogg's Cornflakes cereal, a bottle of milk, with bread and butter at the dining table with Peter and Davy.

"Okay, bon appetite!" Micky said, as he sat down at the table. Peter and Davy looked unimpressed on what they had on their plates; there wasn't much food. Mike finally came and joined them.

"Oh man, I'm stuffed. I got to go to the grocery store to buy food for lunch and dinner," Micky said, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He could've use a napkin Davy grimaced. Micky had a bad habit on eating improperly; he lacked table manners. "You guys want to come?"

The others shrugged.

"I don't know man, I have to do the laundry." Mike said.

"Wash the dishes." Peter piped up.

"Clean the plates." Davy said it at the same time.

"Fine," Micky grumbled. "At least give me the list when you're done eating." He went upstairs to his room he shared with Mike and slammed the door shut. Michael followed him and leaned his ear against the door. He heard a drawer opening and closing and then a muffled noise, which means Micky's changing his clothes. Mike went downstairs quietly, and he looked at the others who were still eating.

"Guys, to the balcony." Mike nodded at the back deck outside. They all went and Mike, who came out last, shut the door behind him, and looked at the window from outside the beach house, to see if the coast was clear. Good, he's not there, Mike thought. He turned to face the others while he rubbed his hands together.

"So, folks, it's time to give out our plans for Micky's birthday."

"Should I tell Julianne about it?" The midget Englishman...er... Davy asked. Julianne was the girl Davy met at Lakeview Restaurant where they had a gig at a local club. Julianne was a waitress and they'd been dating for five months.

She had a long, dirty blond hair, with round, brown eyes that, if you look through, you could see the reflection of your face. She had a sweet, beautiful smile, and was a bit taller than Davy; He was 5"3 and his girlfriend was 5"6. Davy loved tall girls just fine and didn't make any adjustments about his height; he thinks tall girls were groovy.

Every time they made out, Julianne would sit on a chair, or crouch a bit so they would be at eye level, and kiss him, but Davy didn't mind.

She was very sweet, kind, smart, and funny. What Davy loved about her was her being respectful to every people- even senior citizens; she was a musician and a good singer, too, which he also loved.

"Not until Friday." Mike replied.

"I mean, can she be the chef for the party? Come on, she's a really good cook. I went to her house before, and she baked me a Sheppard's pie. She's a better cook than…" Davy exchanged looks with Peter. They both snickered.

"Oh, please, it was just an accident. I didn't know the cake would look like shit in front of our plates. I thought the cake would be done in three hours," Mike assorted.

Peter snorted. "You almost got the house on fire. We don't want you to get yourself hurt, again, like last time."

A year ago, Mike announced that they would have a celebration for earning tons of money from a gig they had at a local club. Mike baked them a cake that turned out to be burnt. He ended up in the hospital for injuring his hand and caused the stove to go haywire, making the Monkees pay their landlord Mr. Babbitt, by giving them the money they earned from the gig they had to him.

Davy frowned. "We earned that money; it was about twenty-five thousand dollars." Well, it was worth a lot of money in the 60s. "We could at least buy something special."

Mike crossed his arms, turning red. "Fine, tell her then. Make sure she comes here, early tomorrow." There was a long silence. Finally, Davy spoke.

"Speaking of Micky's birthday, I was just thinking of buying him a camera; it's a Pentax with two lenses on it. He's a photographer nut; I was planning to make the basement as a photo lab,"

"Don't you think the basement's kinda messy? That place wasn't even clean when we moved here; it smelled like dead corpse in there! BLECH!" Mike stuck out his tongue.

"Don't worry, we'll clean it." Davy said. He turned to look at Peter. "How about you Peter, any suggestions?"

"I'm going to give Micky a present; it's a special gift, so I can't tell you." Peter chirped excitedly.

"Please, don't tell me it's another chemistry set like you gave him for Christmas." Davy groaned.

"Oh no, it's not going to be a chemistry set." Peter replied. Last Christmas, Peter gave Micky a chemistry set, which it exploded, landing Micky in the hospital for two weeks.

"What about you Mike? What are you doing for Micky's birthday?" Davy changed the subject.

Mike shrugged. "I was thinking of inviting some of our friends we've known for a really long time, or even his family to surprise Micky."

"You mean that you want the guests to surprise Micky at our house by hiding somewhere he can't see us, and turning the lights off, letting Micky wander around the pad looking for us, popped out of nowhere and saying 'SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICKY!' is that what you want?" Davy explained.

Mike nodded.

"That's a brilliant idea Mike," Peter piped up. "But, who's going to tell Micky to go to the Pad and make him wonder where we are?"

"I'll do it," Mike answered. "Do you want Julianne to invite some of her friends to the party, Davy?"

"Yeah sure, I'll do that."

"Alright, so it's settled then." They all went back inside the pad. Micky came downstairs, grabbed his jacket, and turned to look at the others before he left. "Do you guys have a list for me?" Mike pulled a piece of paper, folded neatly from his pocket, and gave it to Micky.

"Here."

"Thanks. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll take the Monkeemobile, okay Mike?"

"Just be careful, okay? Always put your seatbelt on." Micky rolled his eyes, and left.

Mike, Peter, and Davy began cleaning the place, pretending like nothing had happened.

How was it? Terrible, huh? Sorry. I'm only in first year high school and English isn't my first language so please excuse my writing. I mostly especially suck at writing endings and beginnings so yeah... Yes, I immigrated to Canada so forgive me. I've only been here for two and a half years. If you want more Monkee fan fics, please let me know. Thank you for reading this and peace and love to everyone and save the Texas Prairie chicken :P