A/N: I'm baaaaack. Been a while. Too long, but with work and writer's block and, regretfully, falling out of love with my beloved reptilian boys, has put me behind on my creativity. This story comes from a prompt my friend gave me: Fear. I won't spoil it, I'll let you judge for yourselves. I just hope you like it. Feedback is always welcome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only borrowing.

It was a silly thing. Being afraid of bugs. However, it wasn't entirely irrational. After all, a lot of bugs were dangerous, some even poisonous. So, his fear was sound. Wasps stung, ants bit, and he wasn't even going to mention those eight legged freaks.

So, why, in the name of all that was holy, was he tied to a chair in front of the TV with Arachnophobia playing? He fought against the zipties around his wrists and ankles. He was too petrified to close his eyes, for fear of what lurked behind his eyelids.

Someone help, he mentally squeaked, terror turning off the power to his voice box.

His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He couldn't look away, couldn't run, couldn't do anything to defend himself against the terrors on the screen.

Someone, please, help.

"He's lasted longer than I thought," he heard a voice whisper behind him.

"Is he still breathing?" another voice asked, concerned.

"What do you mean 'Is he still breathing?'" a third voice asked back.

"I dunno, bro, it looks like he's gone rigid," the second voice replied.

A hand appeared in his line of sight, waving up and down, momentarily relieving him of the living nightmare on the television set. He couldn't even blink.

"Think we should turn it off?" the first voice asked.

"I think he's suffered enough," the second voice said, somewhat trembling. "Even I'm starting to get freaked out."

A figure came into view and switched off the TV. Though the set was off, he could still see the images in his mind. The figure walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. All he saw was a green and blue blur.

"Raph? Raph, you still with us?"

"I think we killed him."

"He's not dead, Mikey," the blue blur said.

"Look at him, he's petrified." There was a pause. "What's with the bucket, Donnie?"

Sharp, icy cold suddenly engulfed him, snapping him back to his senses. Raphael gasped, choking on his own breath and coughed violently.

"See, Mikey?" Leonardo asked. "He's still breathing."

"You...w-won't be...wh-when I g-get out of h-here," Raphael stammered.

"Aw, you're no fun, Raphie," Leonardo said with a grin. "We were only trying to help."

"Help w-with what, e-exactly?" Raphael asked, still shivering uncontrollably.

"Hey, you're the one who got drunk and said nothing scared you," Donatello piped up. "Obviously you don't remember that part."

"Took us a while to tie you down," Michelangelo said.

Raphael pulled against the ties again. "How long?" he growled.

Leonardo checked the clock on his shell cell. "Ten minutes, give or take."

"Ten minutes?!" Raphael exclaimed.

"Like Mikey said, it took us a while to tie you down," Donatello told him.

"Get me outta here!" Raphael roared, rocking the chair.

Leonardo patted his shoulder and grinned. "Ya know, Raph, you could still do with some sobering up." He walked over to the TV and turned it back on. "Have fun watching the rest of the movie."

"No! Leo! Where ya goin'? Don't leave me here!" Raphael pleaded as his brothers walked away. "Leo? Donnie? Mikey? Guys?!"

In the elevator, Donatello and Michelangelo looked at their older brother. "You're evil when you want to be. Ya know that, right?" Michelangelo asked.

Leonardo grinned, giving his little brothers an eerie sideways glance. "And don't you forget it," he said.

Hope you enjoyed my little story. Let me know what you think.