Fic: Peter's Got A Brand New Bag (The Monkees fanfic)
Title: Peter’s Got a Brand New Bag
Series: Peter and the Wolf
Author: Sparrow
Fandom: The Monkees
Characters: Peter, Mike, Davy and Micky
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own The Monkees; I am merely playing around in their ‘verse.
Author’s Note: After reading and re-reading Enola’s Power Monkees Fanfic and various Monkees fanfics on her page, it’s only inevitable that I succumbed to a new fandom. Many thanks to ILB for the awesome beta. Enola, this fic is for you! :D
Spoilers: Nothing really, unless you haven’t watched The Monkees. If you haven’t, watch out, there’s these four guys in a band and randomness happens! ;)
Summary: Peter has to deal with some new changes in his life and the rest of The Monkees get pulled along for the ride.
Peter forced himself to drink a glass of water, if only to get his hands to stop shaking. The rest of the guys would be gone for a couple of days still. He didn’t know how to tell them, wasn’t sure what their reactions would be. He had offers if it didn’t work out, but he-oh-so-hoped it did.
~~~
It was two days later when Mike came through the door. Blinking hard, he checked to make sure he was in the right house.
The house inside was very clean and shiny. Checking everything, not one speck of dirt was anywhere, and the fridge was full of food, too! What is the world was going on? Mike took another look around and saw his answer on the couch. There was Peter, fast asleep, still in his clothes, an apron and cleaning gloves.
Peter only did the heavy duty cleaning when he needed to really think and music couldn’t help him out. So for whatever this had to be, it had to be very deep for the young bassist.
The door was swung open wildly as Micky and Davy came in. “And I’m telling you Micky...”
“Guys, shush!” Mike glared at them and pointed at Peter on the couch.
“Whoa, what’s up with the clean pad?” Micky asked as he dumped his bag near the door.
Mike rubbed his nose in a frustrated gesture. “Peter did this. Remember when he got that phone call a while back and it set him cleaning for days?”
Davy got a thoughtful look on his face, “Yeah that was when his brother called and told him that his Dad was very sick and might not make it.”
Micky slapped himself on the forehead, “Oh man! Is it another one of those things, then?”
“I hope not, but until then, keep it down and let the man sleep, you dig fellas?”
“We dig Mike.” Davy and Micky chorused together.
“No need guys. I’m up.” Peter yawned, then sat up and took off the gloves and apron and set them on the table.
“Peter!” All three chorused together, taking up various positions around the young man. They noticed he was slightly trembling.
Peter kept his head down low and wrung his hands together nervously.
Davy and Micky exchanged worried looks with Mike over Peter’s head.
“Peter, ya got somethin’ t’say t’us?” Mike’s accent thickened in concern as he laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder.
Peter startled at the contact and jumped up.
Moving to the front of their table, he started pacing up and down the length, still wringing his hands together nervously.
Pausing once, it looked like he was about to say what was on his mind, but continued pacing again. He did this two more times.
Micky and Davy both shot Peter concerned looks and then turned their attentions towards Mike. Mike gave them both a look.
“Take your time Peter, it’s obviously somethin’ important,” Mike said.
Taking a deep breath, Peter let loose, “Ishovedmybrotherouttathewayofawolfwhenwewentcampingonlyitwasn’tawolfitwasawerewolfandweonlyfoundthatoutafterrichardmybrothershotitanditturnedintoamanbutitscratchedandbitmeandnowI’mgonnaturnintoonetoo.”
Peter gasped for breath after finishing.
Mike, Davy and Micky blinked hard a couple of times and tried to make out that very rushed sentence.
“Ok Big Peter, you wanna try that again, only a bit more slowly so the rest of us can understand what you just said?” Micky asked.
“I caught ‘wolf’ and ‘Richard’.” Davy chimed with a smile.
Micky eyed Davy. “Nobody asked you, Davy.”
“It’s because I’m short, isn’t it? That’s why nobody asks me.”
Mike and Micky chorused together, “Yes, that’s exactly it.”
Davy pouted.
Peter waved his hands a couple of times, “Um, guys, can we get back to me please?”
“Right, you wanna try that again, shotgun?”
Peter gathered his thoughts and opened his mouth, “You know I went to Connecticut to visit family.”
The three nodded.
“Richard, my brother, wanted to go on a camping trip, just the two of us, like we used to. We only planned on a couple of days at our old campsite in the forest - well during our first night out, there was a wolf. It attacked our campsite and tried to leap for my brother, but I shoved Richard out of the way. The wolf slashed and bit into my back.”
Micky and Davy gasped. Mike stood up and strode forward, intent on seeing the damage.
Peter eyed Mike, “Michael, sit down, I’m fine and I haven’t finished what happened.”
Mike looked Peter up and down, satisfied with what he saw; he sat back down on the couch.
“Richard had brought a shotgun with us and shot the wolf. After getting to me and stopping the bleeding we saw the wolf had turned into a man. It was a werewolf guys. And now I’m one, too.”
Peter smiled slightly, relieved at getting it all out.
Micky held up his hand.
“Yes Micky?” Peter asked.
“I’m confused. How could a shotgun kill a werewolf? I thought only silver could kill a werewolf?”
“Well, Richard makes his own bullets and that day, some of the pellets had silver in them.”
Micky nodded to himself, “Gotcha, totally makes sense now.”
Mike slapped his knee and got up. “So I’m guessin’ being a werewolf healed up your back?”
Peter smiled happily; they believed him. “Yeah, so it only shows scars now. I’ll probably carry those scars for the rest of my life since I got it before I was a werewolf.”
“Right, that makes sense.” Mike headed over towards his guitar and started to tune it.
Davy looked like he was still in shock and disbelief.
Peter started to poke him, “Davy? Yoo-hoo! Davy!”
Davy kept staring ahead. Peter looked confused and then turned that look at Micky.
Micky gulped, “Um, Peter, why don’t you go lie down for a bit, you’re probably still tired from all that cleaning and it is getting pretty late.”
Yawning, Peter realized he did feel tired, maybe it was his system still trying to adapt. Nodding to himself, Peter waved a hand in a semblance of goodnight and headed off to his room.
It was half an hour when Davy shocked back into himself.
“WEREWOLF?!?!?” Davy yelped.
Micky and Mike sighed.
“We’re humorin’ him for now Davy, Peter isn’t a werewolf. Once he gets it out of his system it’ll be fine,” Mike said from his position as he quietly strummed.
“Yeah Davy, get with the program! It’ll be all right, could be quite fun for a few days too.” Micky smiled a mischievous look.
“B-b-b-but guys! Werewolf!”
Micky rolled his eyes, “Davy, even if Peter were a werewolf, which he isn’t, he’d still be the same Peter we know and care about.”
Davy huffed, “Fine, you’re right. He’d still be the same Peter we all know and care about.”
Micky grinned, “Hear that Mike, I’m right! And it came from the lips of our very own Englishman.”
“I have gone temporaril’ deaf and didn’t hear what happened in the past two minutes.” Mike deadpanned.
Over the course of the next two weeks, The Monkees were noticing little changes in Peter. He seemed to be eating a lot more meat in his diet. He had also taken to pausing in the middle of the room, taking a deep breath with his nostrils and nodding to himself as if answering his own question and then continuing on his merry way.
It was little things really, but it was the little things that made up one Peter Tork.
They really noticed the difference when after a performance an agent met them near their car and struck up a conversation with Mike out of the blue. Starting to offer them a lucrative deal, Peter growled low into Mike’s ear, "He's lying."
Mike looked at Peter confused, Peter continued to growl low in his throat and eye the agent.
The agent paused in mid-sentence when he noticed that Mike wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. The biggest mistake the agent could make was when he laid his hand on Mike’s arm to get his attention.
Peter growled a little louder and shoved the agent off of Mike. “Keep your slimy hands off of him! We don’t want your deal! I know you’re lying!”
The agent stumbled a bit from the forceful push. Eyes narrowing he strode up towards the blond and pointed a finger into Peter’s face.
“Now look here boy! You’re interfering…” The agent gasped in pain when Peter grasped the finger and started to bend it back, almost to the point where it could break.
“Peter!” Micky and Davy wrestled Peter off of the agent while Mike did damage control.
Peter had an angry look on his face. He continued growling low in his throat and eyed the agent with a look the held future pain if the agent ever decided to go near The Monkees again.
Mike stalked back to the group as the agent hurriedly left.
“Get. In. The. Car!” was forced through gritted teeth.
The growling had stopped when Mike started to make his way back to them. Peter turned confused eyes towards the guitarist, “But Mike…”
“I said, get in the car. Now!”
Eyes widened and Peter scrambled into the car, Davy and Micky behind him. The rest of the car ride was driven in silence as Mike vibrated anger.
The Monkeemobile pulled up to the beach house and doors slammed as Mike got out, gathered up his guitar and headed up the steps.
Wincing, Peter got out as well, gathered up his bass and slowly went up the steps.
“Sure, they leave us with the heavy lifting.” Micky quipped.
“I think other things are going on right now, Micky old boy,” Davy said as he helped unload the drum set.
They got into the house to see Peter sitting dejectedly on the couch and Mike pacing up and down the length of the table in their living room area.
Quickly setting the drums back on the bandstand and putting percussion instruments away, Davy and Micky both sat on chairs and watched.
Whirling around Mike glared at Peter. “What in the world were you thinkin’? You’re lucky that he didn’t sue us with that little stunt you pulled tonight!”
“But Mike…”
“Don’t you ‘but Mike’ me, Peter! I want an explanation and I want a good one!”
Peter looked around nervously, “He was lying Mike!”
“I got that, how did you know he was lying?”
“His scent shifted, he started to sweat a bit and his heartbeat increased.”
Exasperated, Mike threw up his hands, “Oh! Why didn’t I think of that, it makes perfect sense! Except that it don’t! You’re not a werewolf, Peter!”
Peter’s eyes narrowed in sudden anger and he stood up suddenly, “I thought you believed me about that! I am a werewolf now, Mike! What I was doing was protecting us!”
Micky and Davy watched as the argument kept going back and forth.
“All we need right now is a bucket of popcorn,” Micky said.
Davy nodded. “Very true mate. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Peter that upset.”
“And another thing Tork…”
A shrill whistle blast cut through the argument.
Micky smiled, “Guys, guys! Chill out, take a very deep breath. There’s a very easy way to solve this and to prove if Peter is a werewolf or not. Davy, your class ring.”
“My ring? Why my ring?” Davy asked as he attempted to pry it off his finger.
“Because it’s made of silver - this way we can prove once and for all that Peter is not a werewolf.”
Mike rolled his eyes, “Fine, once we go provin’ that he isn’t, we’re still gonna continue that discussion of that stunt you pulled shotgun.”
Peter just looked apprehensive and warily eyed Davy as he got the ring off.
Handing the ring over to Micky, the drummer stepped up towards Peter, “Okay Big Peter, just hold open your hand and this will all be over.”
Cradling his hand to his chest Peter shook his head ‘No’.
“For Pete’s sake, Peter! Just open your hand already!” Mike bellowed.
Eyes still wide, Peter lowered his hand, slowly opened his fingers from a clench fist and held his palm up. Micky smiled gently and placed the ring into Peter’s hand.
All three crowded around to see if anything would happen, after a few seconds, they breathed out sighs of relief, but they breathed too soon.
Peter screamed as the silver started to burn his hand. Smoke wafted upwards from the burn and the ring as Peter tossed it to the floor and hurried to the sink.
Mike, Davy and Micky crowded around the smoking ring on the floor; as one they turned and saw Peter running water on his hand.
As one they thought, ‘Oh crap!’
Micky ran for the first aid kit, Davy picked up his ring from the floor and Mike warily made his way to Peter.
Running a hand through his hair, Mike started twisting his wool cap in his hands, “Peter, look man…”
Peter turned his hurt-looked face towards Mike, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes, “Why would you ask me to do that? I told you guys the truth! I thought you believed me!”
Each word felt like a kick in the gut to Mike.
“Peter, I don’t know what to say. I mean c’mon, you mentioned werewolves! And that you were gonna turn into one, too!”
“Yes, I am one and yes I am gonna turn into a werewolf the next full moon. I’ve never lied to you guys before, why would I start now?” Confusion, hurt and pain shone through Peter’s eyes.
Before Mike could answer, explain or dig a deeper hole for himself, Micky ran in with the first aid kit.
Davy eyeing his ring, deposited it into his pocket, no sense in getting Peter hurt more. Grabbing a chair he brought it near the sink and got Peter to sit in it.
Grabbing Peter’s hand, Micky brought gauze out and some antibacterial cream.
Silently swearing to himself, Micky brought Peter’s hand up for the other’s to see. There in the middle of the palm was a very nasty looking burn. Also, on each finger, the nails were sharp and hardened into a claw-like shape. If they had any doubts before, they were just erased.
Peter sniffled as he dried the rest of his tears and watched Micky bring up his hand with the burn and claws. He supposed his hand would look more paw-like with the nails when he transformed, but he wasn’t sure.
Micky carefully rubbed the cream into the burn and slowly wrapped the gauze around Peter’s hand.
A soft spoken reply was heard, “Thank you Micky.”
Micky smiled shakily at Peter. “You’re welcome Peter.”
“Peter?”
“Yes Davy?”
“I’m really sorry that I didn’t believe you, if I had, I wouldn’t have let these two use my ring as a test for you.”
“It’s okay Davy, I think I understand. My announcing I’m a werewolf probably seemed a bit unbelievable.”
Micky gave a quick hug to Peter. “I’m sorry, too, Peter, I would’ve never had put the ring in your hand if I believed you as well.”
Peter flashed a small smile at Micky and the drummer knew he was forgiven.
Turning his head, Peter eyed Mike. Leaning against the wall, wool hat back in place on his head, Mike’s eyes said it all. Sorrow at causing his friend pain, a bit of confusion at this whole situation and regret.
Giving a slight nod to the Texan as accepting his apology, Peter shook his injured hand a couple of times and the claws shrank back into normal fingernails. He flashed a dimpled smile at all three.
The next two weeks proved to be a bit strained after ‘the incident’ as they had taken to calling it. It was two days before the full moon that they got a bit more insight to what Peter would be going through.
He became a bit more quiet and introverted, seeming as if he was talking inside his head.
In a way he was, Peter explained to the group after they voiced their concerns. He was trying to make sure his inner-wolf was kept happy and sated until the full moon. Until then, he’d be a bit quiet and grumpy.
Finally on the day of the full moon, Peter was a bouncing ball of energy, which was quite the turn from the past two days. Mike, Davy and Micky were awakened to food and Peter clanking away on his piano.
Davy moaned into his hands, “It’s too early in the morning for this.”
Micky shoveled food into his mouth and nodded tiredly at Davy. Mike read the newspaper.
“Hey guys! I’m going for a run!”
“Peter, you don’t usually run!” retorted Micky.
“I know! I just feel like running! I have to go.” With that parting remark, the door slammed shut as Peter thudded down the stairs and headed off onto the boardwalk.
Davy tiredly blinked, “Is he gone?”
“He’s gone.” Micky reached for a second helping.
“I just thought of something, mates. Does Peter have anywhere to transform for tonight?”
Mike turned the page on the newspaper. “Yeah, he told me that someone will be comin’ to pick him up about four hours before moonrise and they’re goin’ to a place that’s safe. Peter isn’t sure exactl’ where, but he’ll tell us tomorrow when he comes home.”
Micky nodded as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. Davy snored.
Peter got home about two hours before he had to leave. After a shower, Peter packed an overnight bag that held a sweatshirt, sweatpants and some regular day clothes for the next day.
“What’s with the sweats, Big Peter?” Micky asked as he started to rifle through the bag. Grabbing the sweatshirt, the drummer started to pose with it over his shirt.
Peter smiled. “It’s for when I transform. They’re just old clothes I don’t mind getting ripped up, ‘cause no matter what Jack said, I am not going naked in that clearing.”
Mike paused in the middle of the room, “Naked? Wanna explain that shotgun?”
“Well, as it was explained to me, no matter what is shown in movies or what you read in books, werewolves don’t transform with their clothes on. So, the naked part comes into play. I’ll probably be naked when I turn back into human now that I think about it.” Peter had a thoughtful look on his face and then shrugged as it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Better yet Peter. Who is Jack?” Davy asked.
“Oh! Jack is one of the Alphas in the pack. He was the one who explained things to me.”
“Right, maybe we should meet this Jack sometime this week, so we get a general idea on this whole werewolf business.”
“Sure Mike!” Peter answered.
A car horn honked outside.
Startled, Peter turned towards the door; Micky quickly got the sweatshirt off and stuffed it back into the bag.
“Well Peter, looks like this is it. We’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Davy gave Peter a hug. Micky, grabbing Mike joined in.
Sniffling, Peter wiped away a tear. “Yeah guys, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Pulling away from the group, Peter grabbed his bag, walked out the door and into a new phase of his life.
THE END!
Or is it?