The Monkees Imagines and Preferences!

Sunrise

Hey y'all! So yeah this is going to be my first imagine piece!

Mike is my favorite (that lanky Texan got a hold on me from the very first wink) so he'll be starring in this... along with my favorite Monkees song.

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You woke up to the gentle music of the windchime. Davy had hung them up by the window a few days ago. You didn't have the heart to tell him that it kept waking you up in the mornings. He loved them too much.

It wasn't quite morning yet, but you could see the first trickles of light coming through the window. After a few moments of lounging in bed, you forced yourself out. You pulled your robe around you before leaving your room in search of caffeine.

You didn't notice him at first. You had just set the down the cup of hot cocoa when the glint of green caught your eye. A smile crept on your face. Mike was sitting on the balcony with his guitar. He was staring out into the ocean's sunrise. You couldn't quite make out what he was playing... it was something new. Something you had never heard before.

He didn't notice you at all, or if he did... he didn't let on. You went out to the balcony and sat beside him, watching. He plucked his guitar strings as he carefully chose the melody. Some tunes he played often, other he changed, replaced, or discarded. After a few minutes he began to hum.

"How's that?" Mike looked at you expectantly.

"Hmm?" The question caught you off guard. "I like it. It's very pretty."

"Thank you, darlin'," he muttered. There was a pencil and pad nearby, which he scribbled on. His handwriting was illegible, but you could tell it was sheet music and lyrics. He scratched out some words and added new ones in. "Good morning. I didn't say it earlier."

"Morning, Mr. Wool Hat," you teased. He rolled his eyes at his unescapable nickname, but his smile was warm. He focused back on his music.

"I brought you some cocoa." You gestured to the other cup you brought out with you. He thanked you and took a sip.

"Wonderful," Mike complimented. You sighed. There was just something about his voice – that charming southern accent – that made your heart flutter every time he spoke. Even the smallest of compliments sparked a rush. "The sky is gorgeous in the mornin'. It isn't like this in the evenings."

"Are you always up this early?" You asked. Mike was awake before you, but you had never wondered by how much.

"Always," he replied, "I like to write and play my songs."

He started to play again and stared out into the Ocean. Instead of the uncertain and changing melodies he was playing before, the tune was bold and clear. It was a lovely sound, a sweet country ode sung by a true Texan boy.

No heartaches felt, no longer lonely

Nights of waiting finally won me happiness that's all rolled up in you

And now with you as inspiration, I look toward a destination

Sunny, bright that once before was blue

He smiled gently at you, and you blushed, knowing that he was singing to you.

I have no more than I did before

But now I've got all that I need

For I love you and I know you love me

You blushed even brighter and smiled. Your gaze fell down to your cocoa. You did love him. Mike continued.

So take my hand, I'll start my journey

Free from all the helpless worry that besets a man when he's alone

For strength is mine when we're together

And with you I know I'll never have to pass the high road for the low

He smiled again, looking just at you. The ocean was gone, so was the sunrise. It was just you and him and the music.

I have no more than I did before

But now I've got all that I need

For I love you and I know you love me

I have no more than I did before

But now I've got all that I need

For I love you and I know you love me

Yes, I love you and I know you love me

Mike winked at you as he sang the last verse, and your cheeks were burning. Your heart wobbled and pitter-pattered. That song... it was just so sweet. And it was for you.

You took his hand and squeezed it gently. You smiled happily at him and he smiled back, both wishing that time could be saved in a bottle, so that the memory could be revisited over and over again.