Notes: This collection of one-shots is based off of another collection written by Crystal Rose of Pollux. That story, called Lone Star and Union Jack, focuses on the friendship between Mike and Davy, how they met, how they became friends, how they decided to get into music, and eventually, how they met Peter and Micky. Well, this story is going to be doing the same for Peter and Micky. I'm going to go into their side of the story, and I'm going to focus on their friendship. I will have one chapter that will have all the same dialogue and plot as one of the chapters in Lone Star and Union Jack, simply because I will be writing it from Peter and Micky's point of veiw.

I will try to keep timelines relatively straightforward, this first story taking place about three years prior to the first season of the TV series. I will specify the timeline before each story, so there won't be any confusion.

The characters aren't mine, except for OC's, and even then, I'm sure a few of the OC's will belong to Crystal Rose of Pollux, as I'm borrowing this story anyway.


Ventura, CA, Three years and six months prior:

Micky was running. He wasn't going anywhere in particular, he wasn't really running away from anything, he was just running. The wind in his face made him feel happy, and so he ran.

Turning a corner, he was suddenly blinded by the sun, and he didn't see the man standing on the corner. There was no time to slow down or stop, and he plowed right into him, sending them both to the ground.

Micky felt the breath leave his lungs as he landed, and he sat up and tried to catch some air so he could breathe again. The man he had run into sat up as well, and Micky looked him over, wondering how much of a scolding he would get from this stranger.

"Ow!" The blonde man said. Then he looked at Micky. "Hey, sorry about that!" He said, standing and helping Micky get to his feet. Micky was confused. "But, but I ran into you," He said. "You were just standing there. There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

The blonde smiled. "Well," he said, chuckling nervously. "I guess you learn to just apologize after awhile. Then nobody gets mad at you."

Micky frowned. "You mean, you'd apologize for something you didn't do, just so people won't get mad at you?" The blonde shrugged. "Like I said, after awhile, you learn." Micky chuckled. "How many people a day run into you?" The man smiled again. "You'd be surprised," he admitted.

Micky looked at him curiously. Who was this kid? "And you apologize every time?" He asked. The man nodded. "I don't like fighting," he said simply. Micky shook his head. "You can't let people walk all over you," he said. "You gotta stand up for yourself!"

The blonde looked at Micky. "I do when it matters," he said, and even though he smiled, there was a note of seriousness in his eyes, as if he really knew what he was talking about. "But, in the long run, does it really matter who ran into who?"

Micky stood there, speechless. The kid had a point. The man smiled again, and then turned away, bending over to pick up a bass guitar that he must've dropped when Micky had run into him. "Hey!" Micky said, finding his voice again. "You're a musician!"

The man nodded, standing up. "Well, sort of," he said. "I like to play, but I don't have an amp. So it's kind of just extra baggage right now." "Well then, why do you have it with you out here?" Micky asked.

The man shrugged. "I don't really have anyplace to leave it," he said. Micky looked at him. "Well, where do you live?" He asked, fearing he knew the answer. The man smiled. "Nowhere, right now," he said. "I just go wherever my feet take me."

"Well, that's no way to live," Micky said. "What about when it rains?" "Oh, I can usually find a dry place to hole up in, make sure my bass doesn't get wet." The man shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

Micky couldn't believe what he was hearing. And here he'd thought that he was having it rough. He currently lived in a one-room apartment with a view, and by that, he meant he lived in a small room with a bed in the corner, and a broken window facing the alley outside.

But still, the rent was cheap, and he had four walls and a roof, even if the walls were thin and the roof leaked. "Hey," he said impulsively. "You can come stay with me at my place!" The man looked at him. "Really?" He said. "Why, what's the catch?"

Micky smiled. So the kid wasn't as wishy washy as he'd thought. "No catch," he said. "It's the least I could do after running into you like that, and besides, it's supposed to be cold tonight, what with winter just around the corner." The blonde thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Alright," he said. "But just tonight." Micky nodded, crossing his fingers behind his back.

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "Just for tonight."

As they walked, it suddenly occurred to Micky that he didn't even know his new room-mate's name. "By the way," he said. "I'm Micky. Micky Dolenz. What's your name?" "Peter," the man said. "Peter Tork. I'm from Connecticut."

"Connecticut!?" Micky exclaimed, stopping. "What are you doing way out here!?" Peter shrugged. "I got tired of the same ol' scene, so I split. I've been out on my own for awhile now, just doing whatever I want. Finally ended up here, in California. What about you? Where are you from?"

Micky could hardly believe what he was hearing, Peter had been living on the streets for however long it took to hitch-hike from Connecticut to California. He was beginning to understand how Peter could have had so many people run into him.

But he decided not to say anything about it, so he just told his own story. "I'm not from anywhere," he said, continuing to walk towards his place. "I've lived here in Ventura my whole life." "Really?" Peter asked. "Don't you ever get tired of staying in one place?"

"Well, yeah," Micky said. "But I can't leave yet. I have to finish school first. But when I get old enough, I'm going to move to LA to be a performer. I'm really good with impressions and stuff, and I know a lot of jokes. Besides, I like to make people laugh. One day, my name will be up in lights, and crowds of people will come from miles around to see me."

He gave a side glance to Peter, who was frowning in thought. "You're not out of school yet?" He asked. "How old are you?" Micky chuckled nervously. "I'm 15," he said. "But that's not a problem, is it?" Peter shook his head. "No," he said. "It's not a problem. It's just, I thought you were older. I mean, you said you have your own place, right?"

"Oh, yeah!" Micky said laughing. "Don't worry, if I still lived with my mom, I wouldn't have invited you to stay with me." Peter smiled. "Alright," he said. "Just a question, do you usually invite complete strangers to stay the night?"

Micky blinked. Of course he didn't usually invite complete strangers to stay the night, that would just be asking for trouble. But with Peter, well, he was different. There was just something about the boy that made him seem... trustworthy. Maybe it was the smile.

"No, not usually," he admitted. "But you're not planning on killing me in my sleep or something." He laughed and nudged Peter in the ribs, quickly losing his smile and giving in to anxiousness. "Are you?" He squeaked. Peter raised his hands quickly. "No, no," he said. "I was just wondering."

"Oh, okay." Micky said, quickly returning to his carefree self. "By the way, how old are you?" "I'm 17," Peter said. "I turn 18 in February." "Oh, groovy!" Micky said. "What's it like to be an adult?"

Peter laughed. "Well, it doesn't feel much different than 16," he said. "At least, not for me. I haven't changed much, just gotten taller." "Oh, I see," Micky said, although he didn't really. He couldn't wait until he was 18, when he would be a legal adult and could do whatever he wanted.

He loved his mother, but he was tired of living under someone else's control. That was why he'd moved out, young as he was. He wanted to be able to make his own rules, and do what he wanted. But even with his own place, he still felt like he didn't control his own life. He figured it was because he was so young.

He couldn't imagine being almost 18 and still feeling the same that he did now, he thought that being an adult would change everything.


"Well, here we are!" He exclaimed, reaching his apartment building. Really, it was a small hotel, but the owner let Micky stay in one of the rooms, and as payment, Micky worked there after school and on Saturdays. Peter looked around as they went through the lobby, and he followed Micky up the four flights of stairs to his room on the top floor.

"Gee, this place is pretty small," Peter said, setting his bass down against the wall and looking around the room. Micky also glanced around, noting once again how drab the room really was.

The carpet was thin and worn, with a faded design of red roses on a green background. The twin-sized bed was in the corner, with mismatched blue sheets and a multi-colored shag blanket he'd brought from his old room when he'd moved here.

The broken window was hidden by plain white curtains, although parts of them were stained from time, looking to be more of an ivory color.

He had a table against the wall, with two rickety wooden chairs on either side. The walls were papered with wallpaper that matched the carpet, but he had covered them up mostly with pictures and posters and doodles he had drawn when he was supposed to be doing his homework.

There was a kitchenette against one wall, it had a counter, a sink, a very small refrigerator, and a stove-top, but no oven. There was a cupboard hanging from the wall above the counter, with glass-paned doors that had lost their glass, so you could easily see the few dishes Micky owned.

There was also a couch and an end table, the couch was red, and sagged down in the middle, and there was a small radio on the end table.

Micky smiled nervously as he turned to Peter. "Yeah, it's small," he said. "But it's cheap, and I don't need much. Just a place to do my homework, and crash every night. Besides, it's mine, I can make my own rules. I can stay out as late as I want, I can sleep in on Sundays as long as I want, I can do whatever I want."

Peter smiled. "That does sound pretty good," He said. "Thanks for letting me stay the night, Micky. Not very many people take in strays like me." Micky smiled back. "No problem," he said. "My day was boring anyway."

They talked for awhile as the day grew into night, and Micky suddenly realized that he was hungry. "Hey, come with me!" He said, jumping up and rushing towards his door. "Why do you run so much?" Peter asked as he followed. "I don't know," Micky answered truthfully. "I guess I just don't like to hold still."

They left the room and Peter followed as Micky ran down the stairs, skipping every other step. When they reached the ground floor, Micky led the way through the lobby and stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey, Aunt Franny," He said, addressing the elderly cook. She turned around and smiled sweetly. "Why, hello, Micky!" She said. "Here for your dinner?" Micky nodded, and then turned towards Peter. "I'd like you to meet Peter," he said. Peter smiled. "Nice to meet you," he said. "So you're Micky's aunt?" "Oh, no, not really!" The cook said. "Everybody calls me Aunt Franny." Micky nodded to Peter, and then, turning back to Aunt Franny, said "He's gonna stay in my room tonight, so can I get an extra plate of dinner?"

Aunt Franny looked Peter over. "Of course!" She said. "But you have to work extra hard tomorrow to pay for it! You know how Mr. Spiner is about hand-outs!"

Mr. Spiner was the owner of the building, and although he was not a hard man, he had made it very clear to his employees that his hotel was not a charity organization. So Micky agreed without so much as blinking an eye.

"Now, wait a second!" Peter said. "Micky, you don't have to do that! I can go out and get my own dinner, I don't want to make you work harder on my account." "Oh, don't worry about it!" Micky said. "I don't mind, really! Besides, Aunt Franny is a great cook! You haven't lived until you try her meatloaf!" Aunt Franny blushed and turned to the stove. "Now, Micky!" She said. "Don't think your flattery will get you any extra portions! I give the same amount of food to you that I give to everybody else!"

"I'm not lying, Aunt Franny!" Micky said, feigning surprise. "Your meatloaf really is the best!" She clicked her tongue and shook her head, but she was smiling anyway, and when she thought Micky wasn't looking, she put an extra scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy onto his plate.

This was a usual thing for the two of them, and Micky couldn't help but smile at their banter. He really hadn't been lying, Aunt Franny's meatloaf was spectacular, but he knew that whenever he commented on it that he would get a little extra food.

She handed the two boys plates, and Micky led the way to a table in the back and they sat down. Peter still looked distressed about Micky's working harder on his account, so Micky sighed.

"Look, Peter," he said. "I really don't mind working a little bit extra tomorrow. I don't!" Peter frowned in thought. "Hey!" He said. "Maybe I could help you tomorrow! That way, you won't have to work harder, and we can still pay off the extra food!"

"Say, Peter, that's a great idea!" Micky said. "I get home from school at 3:30, so we'll start then. You okay with hanging around that long?" Peter shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind. I kinda felt like staying around town for a little while anyway."

Micky smiled. Working at the hotel was never really fun, but maybe with Peter around, it would make the work go by just a little bit faster, and maybe he would enjoy it a bit more.

The two of them ate the rest of their dinner and chatted away as if they were old friends. Peter absolutely fell in love with Aunt Franny's meatloaf, and he joined Micky in showering her with compliments, which ended up with her giving them both a small plate of dessert, "In honor of it bein' Sunday, and all!" After dinner, they went up to Micky's room and stayed up late, Peter telling stories of life on the road. At about midnight, Peter realized the time, and knowing that his new friend had school in the morning, said he was ready for bed.

After a very small argument over who would get the bed, Peter gave in to avoid conflict, and reluctantly took the bed as Micky, happy that he had won, laid down on the couch with an extra blanket.

Peter fell asleep almost instantly, and Micky briefly wondered how long it had been since his new friend had slept on a bed, but soon his thoughts gave way to sleep as well. As he drifted off, he smiled. He had plenty of friends at school, he was far from lonely. But he always felt just a little bit happier whenever he made one more friend in the world.