Author's Notes: This was my original attempt for the TMNT Big Bang until I settled on something else entirely, but I still like this ridiculous little fic and hope others might find it at least mildly amusing. 2012 verse, B-team. Part One: Michelangelo.
Adventures in Babysitting
Michelangelo
It was late, well, technically it was early I suppose. My breath hangs in a mist on the cold air and I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet in an attempt to warm my numb legs. He said we would only be here for a few minutes, an hour tops, that was three hours and forty two minutes ago. I've been keeping track. He's so excited and focused my usual tactics of annoyance have zero affect and I give up with a sigh and a pout. There's no talking him out of something when he's like this. It's best to wait and hope he tires himself out.
"Mikey, Mikey come here," he hisses.
He's using that excited whisper of his that you would think would lead to something cool but more often than not just means he found some new piece of metal or a spool of wire with a name I can't remember let alone pronounce. I try to fake excitement. It was easier when I thought this would be a quick stop. After an hour crawled by and it was clear we weren't leaving any time soon excitement became more and more difficult to come by. My stomach gives a loud growl and I'm sure the armed guards at the entrance can probably hear it. At this point I hope they do. At least a fight might warm me up.
"Did you find more wire?" I ask with a sigh, climbing up onto the pile he's currently ratting through.
"Nope, well, yes, but more importantly I found this," he replies and he sounds damn near giddy.
His head pops up over the twisted remains of a Humvee door, the moonlight catching the flash of white teeth as he grins down at me. He holds up a piece of metal and plastic that looks like every other piece of metal and plastic he's dragged out of the trash tonight. I have no idea what it is, but apparently it's great because Donatello is dusting it off and cradling it in his arms like a newborn baby. I blink and try to force a smile around my chattering teeth.
"Oh…umm, yeah, that's awesome, D," I say, cupping my hands together to blow hot air across my freezing skin. "I can't believe they just left that lying around out here. The things people throw away these days."
"Ha, I know, right?" he replies with a chuckle, holding it up to the moonlight for further inspection. "Just think of all the things I could do with this," he says, gently placing it inside the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
"Well, you're probably not going to find anything better than that out here tonight. Better to quit while you're ahead, am I right?" I say, almost slipping on the unsteady tower of garbage beneath my feet.
He blinks, suspicion flickering across his eyes before settling on something closer to hurt and I know I've blown my cover. "If you want to head back you can," he says quietly, turning his attention to rummaging once more. "I can finish up here on my own."
His excitement is gone in the time it takes him to say those two, short sentences. It's my fault. I should have pretended better. He shouldn't be out here on his own, it isn't safe. That's the whole reason I came with him in the first place. Also, the promise of food afterwards might have swayed my decision.
"Nah, man, it's not that," I say quickly with a grin that might be a little too big. "It's just getting late."
His hands only pause for a second and I can see his shoulders tense. "I know you're bored, Mikey. You can go. It's fine."
But it's not fine. My grin falters and I'm about to deny everything he accused me of. I don't get the chance. There's a crunch of boots on loose gravel and we both drop down in unison as a flashlight beam arches over our heads. The guard doesn't linger and I can hear pieces of a rather adult sounding conversation and I'm sure whoever he is talking to on the phone has the vast majority of his attention. We wait until he's rounded the corner all the same. Donnie lifts his head and we share a wordless nod before moving for the fence. We drop down on the other side, sliding into the shadows until we're free of the glare of the street lamps and hidden in the relative safety of an alleyway.
"It's not fine," I say, picking up the conversation as though we weren't interrupted in the first place.
He won't look at me, but I can see his hand clench around the strap of his duffle bag and there's more than a little snip to his voice when he replies. "Forget it, Mikey. Let's just go home."
I won't forget it. I can't forget it. He's mad at me and that just won't do. "Donnie…" I try to take hold of his arm, starting when he recoils from my touch.
"I said forget it," he says again, finally turning to look at me. "If you didn't want to come here that's fine. I could have gone on my own like I always do," he says, apparently not forgetting it. "But you don't have to pretend…you don't have to make fun of me," he tears open the bag and pulls out the infamous piece of metal and plastic and waves it in front of my face. "Do you have any idea what I could do with this?" he asks. I don't respond. I don't have to. He thinks I've wronged him and he wants to rant. I'll let him. "It's important, Mikey. It's worth getting excited about. If you had any idea…if any of you did…it's important. You don't have to laugh at me because you don't understand."
His shoulders slump and he puts it back in the bag. I wait a few seconds before responding in case he isn't done.
"I wasn't making fun of you," I say and I mean it. "I wasn't laughing at you."
He lets out a dismissive snort and it's my turn to get angry.
"I wasn't," I insist. "You're right though. I don't understand. I have no idea what that thing is, or why you're so excited about it, but if you think it's important I believe you."
He stares at me and his face crinkles into a guilty grimace. It isn't much better than him being mad at me and I sigh in defeat. I try to think of something that will make him laugh or at the very least roll his eyes and lighten the mood. I could tell a joke at Raph's expense. That usually does the trick. Or failing that everyone thinks a well-timed fart is hilarious. Well, almost everyone. Not Sensei. I learned that the hard way.
"Do you hear that?" he says, stopping me short.
I blink and look over my shoulder. "Hear what?" I ask, my eyes growing wide when I most definitely hear that.
It's a quiet, mewling sort of sound that crackles at the edges and reminds me of nails on a chalkboard or something of equal pitch and annoyance. Donnie has forgotten he's possibly angry with me and he's on the hunt. I look with him, moving aside the gathered trash and debris along the alley walls in search of what could be making that awful sound. I stand on my toes and push open the lid on the dumpster. The hinges groan and the lid slams into the bricks behind it with a shower of rust.
"Ugh, I think there's something dead in here," I grumble, quickly dropping the lid while trying to swish away the offensive smell with my hand. "Maybe it's…holy chalupa," I breathe when I catch sight of something behind the dumpster.
I lower my shoulder and push it away from the wall with a grunt and hurry to pick up the source of the mewling sound that has grown into a full on cry.
"Mikey, don't," Donnie says.
He tries to grab me, but I'm too fast and I dance out of his reach with the tiny bundle held in my arms. She's wrapped in a tattered pink blanket covered in cartoon puppies with a matching winter cap and yellow onesie. Her screams die down to a whimper when I gently rock her back and forth and she nuzzles against my arms for warmth. Donnie is staring with his mouth open and his eyes wide.
"Mikey, don't, you can't…put it back. We'll call the police…"
"Her," I correct him, tickling her stomach with my finger until she kicks her feet in appreciation.
"What?" he murmurs, looking frantically around the alleyway as though this is some sort of elaborate trap.
"Her, she's a girl, not an it," I say, lifting my chin and holding her closer to my chest. "And we shall call her…Ally. Cause, ya know, we found her in a…"
"We cannot name her after an alley," Donnie says. He paces and shakes his head and I'm pretty sure he's close to panicking. Those are defiantly his panic eyes. "We can't name her at all. We have to put her back and call the police. Put her back, Mikey."
I hold her close to my chest as though he might snag her away. "It's freezing out. We can't just leave her on the ground!" I say, aghast at the very suggestion. "We can take her to the lair. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ally?"
"No, no, absolutely not. We cannot take her back to the lair. She's not one of your stray cats, Mikey! We'll bring her to the hospital and leave her by one of the doors. I'm sure…"
I clamp my hand over his mouth and pull him up along the wall. A beam of light shines into the alleyway and I drop down behind the dumpster to avoid it. Donnie crouches beside me, ducking his head a bit more to keep to the shadows. I keep my hand over his mouth just in case.
"You left her out here?!"
An angry voice demands; followed by the thwack of someone getting hit upside the head. It's a sound I am all too familiar with.
"Only for like five minutes. I wrapped her in a blanket. She's fine."
"You better hope so," the first voice grumbles. "Because…what the hell?"
We've been spotted. To be fair there really isn't a good place to hide in this small alleyway. It isn't my stealthiest moment, but with a baby in one arm and my other still holding onto my brother I'm left with very few options. I kick out with both legs, catching the smaller of the two in the shins before landing on my butt. Luckily, Donnie seems to forget his momentary panic and pries loose from my grip to knock the other guy unconscious. A gun clatters across the pavement and I kick it away before Skinny-guy gets any ideas.
"What do you want with Ally?" I growl, grabbing him by the collar.
He blinks, wide, frightened eyes and gapes with a rounded fish mouth. Speaking is a struggle and he only manages to squeak out a garble. "What?"
I motion with my head to the baby. She's upset again and I can't say that I blame her. I wouldn't like being jostled around so much either. Skinny-guy doesn't respond, so it's no more Mr. Nice Turtle. I hold Ally out towards Donnie expectantly.
"Take her for a minute and cover her eyes. She doesn't need to see this," I say using my best impression of a dirty cop.
"No way. I'm not taking her," Donnie says, holding his hands up palms out while shaking his head. "What if I drop her?"
Donnie might not watch as much TV as me, but I expect him to at least be smart enough to understand what I'm trying to do here. You can't have bad cop without good cop and I can't threaten to rough this guy up with a baby in my arms. I turn my head slowly and open my eyes as wide as I can, hoping he gets on board. He shakes his head again. I don't have time for this. I grab his arms and force Ally into them so he has no choice but to hold her.
"Support her head," I grumble, wondering how a supposed genius can't figure out how to properly hold a baby.
Ally apparently doesn't mind my brother's ineptitude. She curls up against his chest and wraps her tiny fingers around the leather strap that runs across his plastron. He looks terrified. It would be funny if this wasn't such a serious situation. It's still pretty funny. She's barely longer than his hand and he pulls up the blanket before holding her against his chest. He's still shaking his head and his mouth is pinched closed so tightly the skin around the edges has turned white. I don't know why he looks so nervous. She isn't crying anymore.
