I always wondered if adjusting to life on another planet was as easy as the show portrayed it, and I started dreaming up some of the scenarios that would come about from it. Misunderstandings would abound, things would have to be learned, and they would all have to learn how to live together, right? So this is my little idea of how it all started.

Disclaimer: I'm so poor, I can't even pay attention. In no way, shape, or form do I own Biker Mice from Mars.

The First: Shower

It had been an amazing three days for Charlene Davidson. Not only had she found out that there were indeed aliens out there, they were already here, with world domination in mind. And then there were the only three good aliens out to stop the bad guys and save the Earth. It was like something out of a movie. Martian Mice, (otherwise known as really hot guys covered in fur), who'd crashed here without a place to stay and in need of a good mechanic.

That's where she'd come in. Charley had helped them repair their very sweet rides, (intelligent AI motorcycles that she was fairly certain she would sell her soul to ride), caught them up on the local culture, and was the current provider of room and board. This was definitely not what she'd expected when she'd woke up that day. Well, who would have ever thought in their wildest dreams that three aliens that loved bikes, root beer, and rock n' roll would come crashing into their life?

Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie were, without a doubt, the sweetest guys she'd ever met. Granted, a bit chauvinistic, but hey, nobody's perfect. She could put up with some male posturing if it meant they would stay with her a little longer. But the guys, being guys, had decided that they didn't want to put her in any more danger than necessary and therefore needed a different place to stay. They needed something that wouldn't connect her with them that Limberger could find. They'd found the perfect place in the Quigley scoreboard, and while they'd been working to make it livable, she'd been out furniture hunting.

The moment she'd first come home with a couch loaded in the back of her spare truck, the guys had frowned and looked upset. When she'd asked if something was the matter, all of them had quickly smiled and said nothing was wrong. She found out later, (through a lot of candy bribes with Vinnie), that they'd been worried for her. They could see how much work she did just to support herself, and now she was going out of her way to help them out. It smacked their pride that they couldn't pay her back somehow.

So all three biker mice from Mars had started working in her garage. They had quickly figured out how most Earth tech worked, (Throttle even went so far as to completely strip down a car engine and rebuild it to be sure he had it right), and had finished up most of her customers' repairs by the time she'd gotten home from her third furniture run. She'd immediately protested: she didn't ask them to stay so she could have free temp workers. The girl told them that they didn't need to take on her responsibilities, but Modo had insisted. The grey mouse had softly said that they didn't want to be a burden on her, she had enough to worry about.

Charley found herself smiling at his words. It would normally go against her pride to accept something like that, but they weren't trying to patronize her at all. Besides, how do you argue with someone like Modo? So while she went out raiding every Goodwill and Salvation Army store she could find in the Chicago area, they took care of her business. By the end of the third day, they had an entire apartment worth of stuff for a sweet bachelor pad. And every last bike, car, and truck in the shop was finished.

And all three mice were positively filthy.

Oil, grease, dirt, grime, you name it, it was embedded in their fur. They'd been crashing in her guest room, and she shuddered to think of all that muck on the bed. With a smirk, the mechanic shooed the trio up the stairs and told them to get showered. The mice glanced at each other with a confused look on their faces, and Vinnie decided to be the brave one and ask, "Um, Charley? What's a shower?"

She blinked in surprise. "Ah, the stall in the bathroom. You know, water shoots out, you get washed, stuff like that?"

Throttle looked amazed. "Water? You wash with water?"

A horrible thought struck her (Insert mental image of licking clean here) and she had to ask. "What else do you wash with?"

He shrugged, "Most Martian ships use a light recyclers to disintegrate anything out of your fur."

Vinnie nodded. "We've been trying to figure out where you keep yours."

She couldn't help her laughter. "Guys, Earth doesn't have anything like that. We just use water to wash off." She glanced at all the gunk in their fur, "And soap. Lots of soap."

Modo stared in shock. "You actually use water, Miss Charley? You're not joking?"

"Why would I joke about that"--it hit her like a ton of bricks. They came from a desertplanet, where water was precious even before the Plutarkians came and stole the rest of it. Why waste it on washing if you had another way to get clean? "Sorry," she said, "wasn't thinking. C'mon," she motioned them to follow her. "Let me show you how this works."

Charley was very proud of her plumbing system. She'd actually redid it all herself, installing two extra-large industrial strength water heaters so that she would never run out of hot water. She'd torn out the old tub and stalls throughout the garage, putting in a deluxe two person shower in the guest room and a traditional claw foot tub in her room, with a new shower stall in the basement. Even the shower heads were adjustable to different strengths and water patterns to help soothe tight muscles after a long day fighting with an engine block. She hoped they liked it.

She led them back into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower jets. Charley adjusted the water temp and motioned to the guys, who were staring in wonder. "Soap's on the rack, extra washcloths are under the sink, and towels are in the cabinet there." She patted Throttle on the shoulder, making a face at the dirt that stuck to her hand. All three winced at the stuff on her hand, and the other two mice backed away from their friend. Charley shook her head, "Have fun, Throttle. Just leave your clothes in the hamper and I'll bring up a pair of jeans for you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, a slight blush on his face.

Vinnie looked distinctly impressed. "So when's our day for the shower, huh?"

She frowned in confusion, "What do you mean?"

The white mouse shrugged. "Thursdays are Throttle's day, so when do you want us to take our showers?" He wagged his eyebrows at her, "Or do you like it when guys are dirty?"

"Vinnie!" Modo said in shock.

"I like my guys clean, thank you very much," she said sarcastically. "So that completely eradicates you from the list. But why would you space out your days to shower?"--Charley realised this went back to the 'water-being-precious' thing. "Oh, yeah, right. You can get in as soon as he's done, you don't have to wait. Or whatever order you want, it's up to you. There should be plenty of hot water, so stay in as long as you want."

"Are you serious, Miss Charley, ma'am? We can really stay in there for as long as we want?" Modo said in wonder.

"Yep," she said cheerfully. "C'mon guys, give the mouse a little privacy, yeah?" They all filed out and headed back downstairs to wait. She popped in a James Bomb movie, which the mice loved. (She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Let's hear it for the universal male love of hot chicks, big guns, and explosions.) Halfway through the movie, she went up to check on the tan mouse. He'd been in there for almost an hour, and she was starting to get worried. She knocked on the door, "Throttle? You okay?"

The door slowly opened, steam pouring out. A very hot, very damp, and very hot-looking mouse slowly stepped out, the spikes of his wet hair sticking out at odd angles from where he'd toweled it off. He had an almost dazed look on his face, his glasses fogged and slightly off kilter on his face. "Hi, Charley," he said softly.

Freshly scrubbed Martian was a dangerous look, Charley decided. And then she happened to glance down. All she had bought them for clothing, since all three seemed to have an aversion to shirts, were several pairs of jeans. So all Throttle was wearing was a pair of mens low-rise faded blue jeans. Her eyes went wide in appreciation. Dear God, you were having a really good day when you made this mouse, she thought. Her eyes were drawn down to the waistband of his jeans. Oh lordy, are those Adonis lines?


"Um, yeah, hi," she stammered. She mentally shook her head to clear it. Down, girl. "You okay? You were in there for an hour."

"Really?" he said in surprise. "I'm sorry, are Vinnie and Modo gettin' pushy on ya'?"

"Nah, I've got them entertained. They should be pretty oblivious to just about anything for a little bit longer. So did you like it? The shower, I mean," she said with a smile.

Throttle paused before he answered. The spray had pounded against him like his fading memories of rain, the roar of water like thunder in his ears. His muscles had slowly began to unwind, even his constant thinking had slowed and finally crashed to a halt. The tan mouse couldn't remember if he'd ever felt so relaxed in his entire life. For that small piece of time, he let go of his memories, the responsibilities, everything that kept him awake into the long hours of the night. The water had flowed over his body like liquid heat, soothing him in ways he didn't know existed. It had felt like he was whole and normal again, like he was before the

He had tilted back his head and let the water run into his eyes, blinking hard at the feeling against the mechanical optics. It was like rinsing the taint off them, the memory of Karbunkle using scalpels and needles and things he didn't dare name even in his dreams on his face where his own eyes used to be.

The soap had foamed in his fur, almost tickling him as it stripped out the dirt and oil from him. He began to scrub as he remembered his time in the Plutarkian prisons, when his blood and dirt from rotting things on the cell floor and the tears of his friends had stained his fur like a permanent dye. He had poured some of the stuff their girl had called shampoo into his hands and worked it into his mane. It had a very gentle scent, the same that Charley had on her skin, and somehow it reminded him of home. He remembered the time back when he'd been little, playing in the yard outside his house, rolling in the thick blue-purple grass, and hearing his mom call him in before it started to rain.

And the water rinsed all of it away, even the slight bit of blood from the scratches he'd given himself with his scrubbing. He let it all go, his mind going blank for the first time in ages, and just enjoyed the feeling of the water around him.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Loved it."


let me know what you think of it!