Kids Inc | You’re the One That I Want [II]: Don’t Talk to Strangers

[luxken27fics]

Title: You’re the One That I Want
Author: LuxKen27
Fandom: Kids Incorporated
Universe: Season 1
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Rating: T
Summary: Mickey didn’t realize just how much Gloria had come to mean to him until it was almost too late.

Author’s Note: A (much belated) gift for gloriafan's fandom_stocking. This story was also written for a prompt in my 2012 Summer Mini Challenge table. Further author’s notes can be found here.

This chapter contains scenes from Episode 1x1, “Leader of the Pack.”

---

II.
Don’t Talk to Strangers
It was only a few months later that the rich kid swept into town, threatening to steal Kids Incorporated – and Gloria – away from him.

Mickey was only cautiously optimistic about the future of their group, but the over the summer, the band flourished beyond all expectation. They had some of the usual growing pains – squabbles about song choice and musical arrangement and the rehearsal schedule – but they survived them all, thanks in part to Gloria’s cheerful presence. Long after Mickey had lost all patience with the others, she was still calm and pleasant, making everyone feel heard and considered, careful to make sure they all had a say in group decisions.

She had even gone above and beyond the call of duty, discovering a shy kid with a voice of gold by happenstance, and convincing him to come to the Garage one afternoon for an impromptu audition. This kid – who called himself the Kid – blew them all away with his ability to sing a catalogue of songs on cue, and was eagerly invited to join the band. Even Mickey welcomed him without hesitation on that first day, happy to finally have another boy to help even out their numbers.

The others acknowledged him as their leader, but even he knew he hadn’t really done it all by himself. Grudging through he was to openly share credit for the band’s success, Mickey had to admit that without Gloria, version two of Kids Incorporated might very well have fallen apart just as quickly as version one had.

Their gig at the P*lace kept them in steady work over the summer; Mr. Paulson had even started giving them a small portion of the soda fountain’s profits, telling them they’d earned it by bringing in so many new customers. Between that allowance and the occasional fundraiser, the band was able to buy matching onstage outfits and take care of their borrowed equipment.

By the time the new school year rolled around, Kids Incorporated had turned the P*lace into the afterschool neighborhood hangout. Anyone who was anyone showed up to see and be seen, to enjoy the show and the treats from the soda fountain.

That’s how the rich kid entered their lives.

Mickey first noticed him one afternoon when the P*lace was bustling with business. Mr. Paulson was drowning in the sea of orders at the counter, leaving the rest of the front room abuzz with growing chaos. It was making Mickey feel unusually nervous; they’d played in front of large crowds before, but none with this sort of restless energy. His nerves were compounded with growing irritation over the sudden disappearance of one of his bandmates, which was only further holding up the works.

Finally, Mickey spotted her out in the crowd. “Renee!” he hissed, stepping close to the edge of the stage. “Come on!”

Renee didn’t seem to hear him, instead gazing lovingly at the impeccably dressed blond-haired boy to her right. She was hardly the only one; he was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls, each competing for his attention in turn. Mr. Suave whispered something into one girl’s ear, causing her to blush madly; he sent a dazzling smile in another’s direction, earning a dreamy sigh in response.

Mickey frowned as he watched the new kid hold court. He might not have recognized the boy, but he certainly knew some of those girls – they’d spent most of the summer draped all over him, hanging onto his every word, granting him those girlish giggles and dreamy sighs whenever he looked in their direction.

He didn’t appreciate the sudden competition. Or Renee’s adulation.

“Renee,” he tried again, clutching the neck of his guitar as he leaned off stage. “Let’s go – we need to start before we lose the crowd!”

Renee made a big show of heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes, but stood up from the table after sending Mr. Suave another longing glance. He seemed to appreciate it, smiling back at her, watching her as she climbed the stage steps. His gaze rose to meet Mickey’s, lighting up with a sparkle of challenge.

Mickey narrowed his eyes in response, before turning to follow Renee as she picked up her microphone from a makeshift riser near the drum kit in the back.

“Renee,” he intoned lowly, “who is that kid?”

Renee gave him a self-satisfied look as she tested her microphone. “Just met him today,” she replied. “His name is Christian.” She smiled. “Isn’t that so romantic?”

“That his name is Christian?” Mickey balked, staring at her like she’d grown another head.

“Well,” Gloria cut in, reaching around Renee for her microphone, “I think he’s cute.”

Mickey bristled. “Yes,” he returned, “but is he talented?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, nodding instead to Mario to count them off. The band launched into their first song, a rollicking, fast-paced number, quickly gaining the attention of the crowd. The tension onstage dissipated as the band members played and sang and danced, moving smoothly from one number to the next. It was almost effortless; their months of hard work – the blood, sweat, and tears of endless rehearsals and summer experiments – were starting to pay off.

Just as the Kid had really come out of his shell thanks to their performances, Gloria, too, had blossomed; she could command the stage like no other with her vivacious energy and spirit. She moved easily around the stage now, weaving through the musicians, hanging out with the younger kids, drawing all eyes on her – even Mickey’s. He enjoyed her nearby presence, her increasingly flirtatious moves on and around him, and normally, he’d lose himself in it – in all of it, basking in the flow of being on stage and the center of attention.

But that afternoon, he couldn’t. He was all too aware of Christian’s presence in the audience, of his shady little smirk as he watched the band’s performance, jotting down notes on a little pad all the while. Mickey felt unnerved by his constant scrutiny, and by the way his bandmates seemed to notice it as well. Gloria and Renee and Stacy would dance with him, smiling at him as they sang, but their attention would always inevitably swing out into the audience – to him – to see if he was watching them.

Mickey felt relieved when he noticed Christian stand up and leave during their last number. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care; all he knew was that new kid was gone, no longer stealing the attention of his audience or his bandmates. Gradually, Mickey relaxed into their final song, a pretty duet he’d worked up with Gloria. He let down his guard, turning his attention solely to her, and the music, and the way she grinned at him as she swayed close –

– only to be abruptly brought out of the moment by the blinding flash of a camera, followed by another, and another.

Mickey and Gloria both looked out into the audience as their song drew to a close; Gloria grinned when she realized it was Christian who had been taking the pictures, but Mickey scowled.

Just what does this kid want? he asked himself, keeping a close eye on him as the band took their bows to a thunderous standing ovation.

Even as the others in the audience began to wander away, Christian lingered, watching the group as they packed up their instruments and broke down their stage setup. He approached the stage with his camera and his notebook, sending Renee – and then Gloria – a captivating smile.

“Nice show,” he complimented them, his eyes lingering for a long moment on the older girl.

“Thanks,” Gloria replied, a slight flush rising to her cheeks as she returned his smile.

“Yeah, thanks,” Renee echoed, waving to him even after he’d turned away, strolling out of the P*lace with a confident swagger.

Mickey observed the entire exchange from the wings, feeling his earlier irritation flare up all over again. The last thing the band needed was a distraction, especially in the form of such an obnoxious interloper. And the last thing he wanted was to listen to the girls gush endlessly about him.

He lifted his chin as he marched out of the wings. “Great performances, guys,” he announced, picking up his guitar case. “See you over at the Garage for rehearsal.”

Gloria gave him a surprised look. “What? We’re finished for today.”

Mickey shrugged, descending the stage steps in short order. “No, we still have to rehearse some more,” he replied with authority. “There’s a couple new numbers I want to try.”

Gloria frowned, following him down the stairs. “But we were going to rehearse tomorrow,” she reminded him, sitting at one of the nearby tables.

He scowled. “We can do that, too,” he returned, unable to keep his annoyance from his voice. He caught sight of Renee as the others dutifully trooped down the steps and turned to face her, eyeing her critically.

“Renee,” he intoned with a weary sigh, “you have got to get your hair cut. It’ll look even better for the band.”

Renee shot him a withering stare. “What about looking better for me?” she challenged, drawing her hair over one shoulder and running her fingers through it. “I like my hair just the way it is.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Renee, don’t give me a hard time!” he argued. “It’s for the band.”

Renee simply scowled at him, but he paid her no heed; instead, he looked to her left, frowning fiercely when he noticed Stacy’s white sneakers.

“Stacy, you know you were supposed to wear your blue shoes,” he complained. “Where are they?”

She stood up from her seat on the steps and shrugged. “They’re with Ziggy,” she replied.

Mickey simply stared at her. “And who’s Ziggy?” he wanted to know.

Stacy squinted up at him. “My pet frog,” she explained. “He was living in my sneaker – I didn’t want to take away his home!”

Renee grabbed her sister’s arms and tugged her down into a seat at her table. “I’ve seen those shoes, Stace,” she noted wryly. “I think Ziggy would be very grateful if you did.”

“Frogs,” Mickey huffed under his breath, skeptical of Stacy’s excuse for breaking the look of their matching outfits. “Renee, will you make sure she wears the right clothes next time?”

Renee opened her mouth to protest, but it was Gloria who spoke next. “Excuse me,” she interrupted, standing once more, “I didn’t know we had to take orders in this band.”

Mickey glanced at her. “I’m not giving orders!” he protested.

“Then what exactly is it you’re doing?” the Kid asked, standing on the lowest stage step and crossing his arms over his chest.

Mickey shrugged. “I’m just telling you what to do.” For your own good, he added silently.

The Kid rolled his eyes. “That sounds like ordering to me,” he observed.

“Yeah,” Gloria agreed, her hands on her hips, “me, too.”

“Me, too,” Renee rushed to add, still smarting over the order to mind her sister’s wardrobe.

Stacy sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “That goes for me, too,” she added solemnly.

Mickey stared disbelievingly at them all in turn. “Well, somebody’s got to take charge!” he insisted.

“Somebody could be a little more subtle and ask,” Gloria pointed out.

“No kidding,” the Kid muttered, shaking his head with disapproval. “If I wanted to be told what to do, I would’ve just stayed with my teachers at school!”

“Get serious, you guys!” Mickey cried, throwing his hands in the air. “You know you wouldn’t be anywhere without me to lead you. You know I know best, so please – just do what I tell you, without complaining, if that’s possible!”

Gloria’s jaw dropped. “Where is this coming from?!” she demanded, her hands forming fists and digging into her hips. “We’re all equals here, just in case you’ve forgotten. We make decisions together.”

Mickey rolled his eyes heavenward, working hard to control his temper. “And maybe we’d get even further if you’d just let me take charge,” he muttered. “I’m the one with experience here.”

“Pfft,” the Kid spat. “Forget you! I don’t need this.” He stomped down the stairs. “I’m not here to support your ego.”

“Me, neither,” Renee agreed, standing up from her table and grabbing her little sister’s arm.

Stacy looked startled by the sudden turn in conversation. “Yeah, me either,” she echoed, glancing from her sister to Mickey and back again.

“Fine!” Mickey shouted, frustrated with their obstinacy. “Go, if you want to! I don’t like dealing with children anyway.” A fine shimmer of rage rumbled through him. “If that’s what you want, then it’s fine with me!”

“Fine!” Gloria cried, sidling over to the others, creating a united front with them against their erstwhile leader. “Let’s go, you guys!”

Mickey whirled around, not willing to give them the satisfaction of having to watch them leave. They’ll be back, he assured himself, crossing his arms over his chest. When they calm down, they’ll realize I’m right. It’s been my band from the start, so of course I know what’s best! They need me more than I need them.

Or so he hoped.

~*~
Mickey walked into at the Garage the next afternoon for rehearsal, surprised to find himself the only one there. A quick glance at his watch told him that he wasn’t late – or early, for that matter.

He frowned. Even through all their previous disputes, they’d never missed rehearsal before. Not even Mario or Shanice or Aaron were there, and they’d had nothing to do with the fight the day before – they hadn’t even been there when it happened!

Maybe they’re just trying to make me sweat, he considered, walking over to the old purple and pink piano in the corner. Gloria’s always been big on making a show to prove her point… He ran his fingers along the keys.

“I’ll just call their bluff,” he murmured to himself. “If they want me, they know where to find me.”
.
.
.
Half an hour later, it was quite clear to him that he was no longer wanted.

And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Angry, that his bandmates were avoiding him. Frustrated, that they’d let something so petty split up the group they’d all worked so hard on. Sorrowful, that he was the one who’d alienated them, even though he was only trying to do what was best for them.

They were more than just a band – over the course of the summer, they’d all become friends. Good friends. And it hurt him to think that maybe none of them wanted to be his friend anymore.

He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. Maybe they’re ready to give up on me, but I’m not ready to give up on them, he vowed silently. Determination scored his spine as he stood up, balling his hands into fists. We’re friends, dammit, and I don’t just let friends go – not like this.

With swift resolve, he left the Garage, marching down the street towards the P*lace, the only place he could think of that they’d all congregate, given that they were all in different grades and thus, went to different schools. It was their home away from home, along with every other kid in the neighborhood.

He crossed his fingers as he approached the familiar blue-framed double glass doors. If they weren’t here, he’d have to track them all down separately, a much more arduous task – and one he’d have little patience for.

He lifted his brows when he noticed the HELP WANTED sign in the window. That’s new, he mused to himself as he pressed through the doors. I hope everything’s okay with the owner.

“Hey, Mr. Paulson,” he called out pleasantly, spotting the man behind the counter, a crate of wet glasses in front of him. “What’s with the sign?”

The older man smiled as Mickey settled himself at the counter. “Thanks to you and the rest of Kids Incorporated, I’ve got more work than I can handle,” Mr. Paulson explained, picking up a glass and toweling it dry. “Being behind the counter isn’t my favorite task in the world, but I could never justify the expense of hiring a soda jerk – until now.” He eyed Mickey. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who’s looking for a job?”

“Sorry,” Mickey replied with a shrug. “Say,” he continued casually after a moment, “speaking of the band – have you seen them around lately?”

Mr. Paulson appeared surprised by Mickey’s question. “Well, yes,” he sputtered. “They were all here, maybe an hour ago? With that new kid, whatshisname…” He frowned, trying to draw the name from memory. He snapped his fingers as it came to him. “Oh, yes, Christian! Nice guy – he bought them all lunch. Pretty generous.”

Mickey blanched, his stomach sinking like a stone as he absorbed this bit of news.

“Come to think of it…” Mr. Paulson peered curiously at him. “I was kinda surprised that you weren’t with them. You guys have been thick as thieves these last few months. Everything okay, Mick?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Mickey replied, offering him a weak smile. He slid from his stool. “I guess I just missed them. Well – I’ll keep looking!”

Mr. Paulson nodded, picking up another glass and wiping it down with his towel. “So will I,” he murmured.

Mickey took a cursory glance around the front room before leaving, his tread noticeably heavier as he exited the P*lace. It was one thing for his friends to still be upset and not talking to him, but another entirely if they were not talking to him and hanging around with that obnoxious rich kid, Christian. It was bad enough that he’d stolen some of Mickey’s giggly admirers – was he after the band, too?

He found his answers not far from the P*lace, running nearly smack dab into Mr. Suave – or, more to the point, Mr. Suave’s things. He had a van full of stuff parked in the middle of the street, its contents spilling over: equipment, clothes, instruments of all kinds. The other members of Kids Incorporated were crowded around, deep in conversation with Christian, who stood in the middle of it all while his chauffer offered item after item to the other kids.

Mickey crept closer, careful to stay in the shadows of the nearby buildings as their conversation met his ears.

“Okay,” Christian announced haughtily, looking far more satisfied than he had any right to be, in Mickey’s opinion. “You’ve seen the goods – wanna buy?”

The Kid gazed up at him. “On a scale of amazing to zowie,” he replied, “I say yes.”

“Yeah,” Renee nodded in agreement.

“Aren’t we jumping into this pretty fast?” Gloria cut in, sending a concerned look at her younger bandmates. “I mean, let’s take some time to think it over, okay?”

“Why?” Renee asked peevishly, pressing her hands into her hips. “We’re a band without a lead, and he’s a lead without a band – it’s perfect!”

“It’s good karma,” Stacy put in.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda quick,” Gloria hedged, looking skeptical. “We hardly know this guy.”

“Well, hey, we can fix that up later on, maybe with a movie and some pizza?” Christian offered with a leer, approaching Gloria and draping his arm across her shoulders. “I have a tape deck and a TV in the back of the van.”

Mickey felt his blood boil at the sight, and he pressed out of the shadows to intervene.

Gloria looked just as unimpressed as Mickey felt, pushing Christian’s arm away. “I don’t think so,” she said coolly, narrowing her eyes at him. “I never mix singing and dating.”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all day,” Mickey drawled, moving into their semicircle and coming to a halt next to Gloria.

She turned to look at him. “For a microsecond, I thought Mickey talked to us!” she gasped sarcastically. “But then I realized that generals don’t talk to ordinary soldiers like us.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, pressing his hands together. “You’re not joining up with this guy, are you?” he intoned disbelievingly.

Christian’s eyes ran down the length of him and back. “Who is this shorthair?” he asked disdainfully.

“Just someone that we used to know,” Renee replied pointedly, moving closer to Mickey and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

“Yeah,” Stacy piped up, “a real bad seed.” She strolled over to him, giving him an innocent smile. “Hi, Mickey,” she greeted him cloyingly.

Mickey paid her no heed, continuing to gaze at Gloria – and Christian, who hadn’t relented from her side.

“Go find a cave,” the blonde boy declared dismissively. “I’m working on something big here!”

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “He may be good, but he’s not for you,” he proclaimed, directing his words to Gloria. “What does he know about organizing a group? He doesn’t have the experience I have.”

Gloria pressed her hands into the pockets of her cardigan. “Are you asking us back, Mick, is that it?” she inquired, her tone more serious than not.

Mickey, however, was still feeling the sting of her caustic greeting. “Ask you back?” he shot back incredulously. “No way! You’d just quit on me again.”

Renee stared at him in disbelief. “Only because you were acting like a total lizard!” she cried disgustedly.

“Hey,” Christian cut in, “take a chill! I’m trying to get a band together here.” He gave Mickey another dismissive look, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe Mickey had the nerve to breathe the same air as him. “They should be with talent, not…”

He allowed his train of thought to trail off, like he couldn’t even summon words to describe his so-called rival.

Mickey bristled at the implication, narrowing his eyes as he stared down his opponent. “Oh yeah?” he intoned coolly, taking a step closer.

“Yeah,” Christian challenged, taking a step forward himself.

So he does want my band, Mickey thought angrily to himself. “Big words for a nerd job,” he snorted derisively, his hands curling and flexing into fists at his side.

“You wanna do something about it?” Christian returned, looking down his nose at him.

“Hey,” the Kid interjected, pressing himself between the two of them. “This ain’t cool!”

Mickey ignored him, sidestepping the boy. “Yeah, I’ll do something,” he replied, shoving Christian’s shoulder. Nobody takes my band from me without a fight.

Christian shoved Mickey back with both hands, hard enough to force him back a few paces. “Make your move,” he dared.

Mickey raised his fists, more than willing to lay down the hurt in order to defend his pride.

Christian raised his, already bouncing on the balls of his feet, swaying forward to bait his prey.

“STOP IT!” Gloria yelled with a piercing cry, running up to the both of them and forcing her way between them. “Just stop it, both of you!” She pushed them apart. “We’re not going to be in a band with either of you if you keep acting like this!” She trembled beneath the fury in her voice, spearing first Christian, and then Mickey, with glares of disapproval.

“We’re people,” she continued, her eyes lingering on Mickey’s, “not spoils of war.” She looked back at Renee, Stacy, and the Kid, huddled together to one side and watching the confrontation with wide eyes.

“Come on, you guys,” she said, her tone softening as she reached for them. She held Renee’s and Stacy’s hands protectively, tossing another impudent stare at the arguing boys. “Why don’t you get back to us when you decide to grow up?”

With that, she turned on her heel, leading the younger kids away.

Mickey watched them go, feeling the fight drain out of his body. Smooth, Mickey, he admonished himself silently, dropping his hands to his sides. Real smooth.

“Well, c’mon, hotshot,” Christian needled, lifting his fists in the air once more and throwing a practice swing. “Let’s see if you have what it takes.”

Mickey spared Christian a withering glare. “Grow up,” he shot back, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he took off after his bandmates.

He found them at the Garage, gathered in a tight clutch near the tape deck by the stairs.

“I have something to say,” he announced, garnering their attention. He swallowed hard as he crossed the room towards them, his heart throbbing against his ribs as he felt the weight of their anxious stares.

“Look, I acted like an oddjob before,” he began. “I’m sorta sorry, you know? I guess it did sound like I was ordering everybody.” His shoulders tugged down into a sheepish shrug. “And anyway…this guy can probably do more things for you than I can. He’s got the money and the stuff, so maybe you should just tie up with him.”

Gloria shook her head. “After all that, he’s still trying to tell us what to do,” she intoned, the corners of her lips curving into a smile.

Mickey frowned. Here he was, offering himself up on the altar of dignity by apologizing, and she was – mocking him for it?

That hurt more than he cared to admit.

“Listen, Mickey,” she said. “Christian might have the money – ”

“ – and the equipment – ” Renee cut in.

“ – and the driver – ” Stacy added.

“ – and tickets to the Michael Jackson tour! – ” the Kid wailed dramatically.

“ – but he doesn’t have what you have,” Gloria continued with a patient smile. “You’re our friend, and you care about us. Maybe a little too much,” she added wryly. She tucked her arm into his. “Kids Incorporated might’ve been your idea, but it’s our band. We’ve all made it what it is – a family.”

The others nodded somberly in agreement.

“You don’t turn your back on family,” Gloria said resolutely, “not even when somebody strays.”

Mickey’s heart warmed at her kindness. “Would you guys like to come back to – I mean, could I come back to you guys?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the lot of them. “Can we be Kids Incorporated again?”

Gloria, Renee, Stacy, and the Kid all exchanged a long look, before turning back to him with matching grins. “Yeah!” they shouted in unison, ambushing him in a group hug.

Mickey didn’t protest, however – he wrapped his arms around all of them, knowing all too well how close he came to losing them for good.