I've been hit with Writer's Block and came out with this. It's weird. I know. I love Mikey. Really.

"Donnie!" called Michelangelo, walking into his brother's lab. He completely ignored the 'do not come in', 'that means you, Mikey', 'I'm serious', 'do you even read these anymore?' and 'quit it!' signs that decorated the door and headed straight towards the desk where his brother should have been residing at, tinkering with something that had more than five syllables in its name or hacking into one of his brother's facebook accounts. Only he wasn't.

There was no Donatello in sight. Not on the desk chair which Mikey sat on and spun in a few circles on. Not under the desk which, when he came to a stop, he rested his feet on. No, the genius turtle was simply not in the lab. Absent. Not present. Gone. Elsewhere.

"I wonder what he's been up to," Mikey mused, leaning forward and loading up Donatello's internet browser. He was sure that Don wouldn't mind not knowing that his brother was going through his internet history and personal files.

Don was either incredibly boring and prudish or he just knew how to use private browsing because there was nothing suspicious or blackmail-worthy on the computer. Mikey decided to just play flash games until he got bored.

"Eh?" His elbow, which he had moved along with the computer mouse, bumped into a small tray. Mikey blinked a few times. There were a dozen or so raisins in it. Don must have gotten himself some before going off for a bit. "Ooh, raisins!"

Mikey scooped up a handful and threw them into his mouth, swallowing them whole. They tasted a bit off but Don did have a habit of forgetting to eat food/clear it out after a few days. His brain was just too full of knowledge that came from the back of cereal boxes and second hand books to leave room for such trivial things. Don needed to get out more.

"Mikey, what are you doing in here?"

Or, he thought as he dodged out of the way of an olive coloured hand, Mikey needed to.

TMNTNMT

"Hey, Donnie, do you want to play the-?"

Mikey faltered out abruptly. Don was not there. Just like yesterday.

Also, just like yesterday, the raisins were there. Mikey helped himself. He hadn't known that Don was such a fan of raisins. Were they the secret of his intelligence? Was this the key to being smart? Or did he just like the taste of maybe-out-of-date raisins?

TMNTNMT

Again with the raisins. They were there for the rest of the week, the tray magically replenishing each day. Mikey wondered whether he should ask his brother about this but decided not to. Don wouldn't be happy if he knew Mikey was the one sneaking into his lab and eating all his raisins. The strange thing was that Don never mentioned it: in the dojo, at dinner, on patrol... the word 'raisin' and 'thief' didn't ever leave his mouth.

Mikey decided that Don was ashamed of liking raisins. That, or he knew someone was taking them but didn't want to give in. Don could be very stubborn when he wanted to. He didn't want anyone to find out someone was stealing his raisins, getting away with it in the process, and so carried on as if nothing was wrong.

Poor Donatello.

TMNTNMT

"In here, April."

Mikey squeaked, hiding under Don's desk and hitting his head in the process. He gasped, holding his breath and mimicking a puffer fish. Brown shins with navy sneakers on the ends followed the green legs, halting at the desk. Mikey dug his heels into the back of his thighs, squeezing into the shadows under his hiding place as much as possible.

"I know they've been in here," said Don, his legs shifting to the left a bit. "My things are out of place each time."

Mikey widened his eyes. Don was more observant than he was given credit for.

"And you haven't been able to catch him?" asked April.

"I've tried putting traps down but they've come to no success," replied Don.

Traps? Mikey became rather proud of himself. He hadn't set off anything and he hadn't even known there were any traps in the first place. And Shredder said he was a terrible ninja.

"Rats aren't stupid," said April.

Rats? Did they think that Splinter was the one stealing Don's raisins? Wow, Mikey couldn't believe that Don was so wrong for once. Splinter. Stealing his son's raisins. Mikey wanted to know what had made his brother draw such a conclusion.

"I wish he'd stop leaving little presents on my desk," said Don, sounding annoyed. "It's beginning to annoy me."

Wait... so Splinter was leaving the raisins on Don's desk? No wonder they didn't taste fresh. Don must have been ignoring them. But why would Splinter sneak raisins into Don's room? Was this some strange type of training? Or was Don not getting enough antioxidants?

"You should try putting some bait on the traps and not set them initially. That way if you have an infestation, they'll be more likely to activate the traps later," suggested April.

Mikey blinked.

"How many faeces have you found, Don?"

Mikey put his hands onto his throat.

"It seems like a lot when I'm picking them up but whenever I return with the trash can, there aren't that many in the tray."

"EW! EW! EW!"

April shrieked as Mikey ran past her. Don whipped around, raising his brow at the orange and green blur.

The door slammed shut. Don and April looked at each other and listened to the answers neither of them gave.

They would have concluded this tale with a witty punchline, but the both of them were speechless.