"Join us, Mikey." Raphael said, some strange sick pleading under his manipulative words. "And. Drink. Deep."
His offer rolled around Mikey's head like fog and marbles. He felt like this should be striking some panic, maybe slapping some panic, at least giving panic a little tickle. He needed to move, not listen to Raph's smokey voice. Even if it was Raph, Mikey still didn't wanna get sucked.
Fear helped to unstick his legs. The last few days-day-time?-had been completely and totally exhausting, and although his feet propelled him, Mikey stumbled helplessly from wall to wall of the narrow hallway, tripping over the long unfamiliar coat. 'Help them blend in', sure Renet. With what that dudette normally wore, she had to be into cosplay-and while Mikey didn't mind dressing up, he'd really hoped for something less ankle-length.
He was falling almost before he realized he'd tripped. Mikey landed hard on his tail, and hands and feet and shell. Fell hard on sort of everything, and it hurt, pretty bad because whatever he'd fallen into was nothing but sharp, pointed-
-bones!
Mikey screamed, scrambling backwards clumsily when Raphael leaped out from under the shallow covering of the spilled bones, more grossed out than scared.
He was serious when he said he wasn't gonna get sucked.
"Get away from me, bro." He said warningly, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice. At least this was how Dr. Rewindo went, in issue #84. Raph rose above the dirty grave they'd fallen into, arms outstretched. It was dark enough down here, so far from the others that Michelangelo could see the blue shine of his eyes, their depthless center. It made his green pupils glow like a laser narrowed on him.
Creepy.
"Good, Raphie." Mikey said softly. His eyes darted from side to side, desperate for a weapon or an exit. Anything but those eyes focused him, the gleaming fangs. "Now, put the teeth away-"
"...I vant..." Raph said and his upper lip curled as he leaned in close.
Nosed along Mikey's throat.
Mikey squeaked, tried to jerk back, and Raph pushed him flat with one hand. Vamp-strength. Great.
"I vant." He told Mikey, his voice coughing and hoarse. Like he'd done nothing but eat bugs for three days or something.
"I do not vant." Michelangelo said seriously, and shoved at the looming press of his brother's bulk. Raph, stubborn, leaned his full weight into him, pressing him closer to the dirt. "No means no, bro!"
"I VANT!" Raph roared, and shoved Mikey from him, tossing him through the scraping bones like a rag. He flew, hitting the wall with a sharp crack. He was on him in an instant, the force of impact knocking Mikey's hat off, knocking the wind out of him.
Maybe Leo was right. Maybe he did need to be less dependent on his 'chuks. He struck out at Raph's neck, sides, the tense muscle of his arms. The heavy cloth of his coat absorbed his blows, and Raph growled in his face at his efforts. Fangs fully extended. Mikey whimpered, trying his best to wriggle away, rattling the old guys under him.
"You should've joined me." Raph told him, and even with the accent he sounded... off. He pressed further and further into Mikey, sinking him back into the grave. His breath was a hot seal against Mikey's virgin, unsucked neck. Every time Raph spoke it was like late-night static filled his head. "We could have ruled."
Mikey shivered at the soft brush of his beak against his neck. The tentative slide of his fingers along his collar. Mikey tried to bat them away.
"C'mon, Raphie." Mikey pleaded. "You know this thing is probably dry-clean only-"
Raph's eyes burned like mutagen.
"You know." He said, almost conversationally. "You talk a lot."
Mikey opened his mouth to reply, and choked on thin air when he tried. Mind tricks!
"Much better, little brother." Raph said. His breath smells gross, and Mikey turned his head away so he didn't have to, like, taste it too. He's gonna kill Raph for this. Gonna sign him up for Good Housekeeping. Gonna train Chompy to lava in his cereal bowl. Gonna use his socks to-
Mikey gasped as a hot tongue trailed up his neck, before beginning to struggle in earnest. The glowing eyes and freaky voice were no longer the problem, the heavy shackle of Raph's hands was enough. Another long drag of tongue along his jaw and Mikey groaned. So gross.
"You're going to make me a real vampire." Raph told him, his eyes the only bright focus in the shadow he cast. "And then I'll return the favor, Mikey. Whether you like it, or not."
"Dude." Mikey whispered. "Don't."
A stake thudded into the skull beside him, showering him with tiny slivers of ivory. Mikey screamed, Raph twisting himself away with a hiss, shell to the unseen marksman. The rush of air left the spit on his neck cooling. Raph darted away as another stake buried itself just beside him, folding himself into the shadows. Mikey sat up slowly, wiping at his neck. He was gonna use Raph's toothbrush to clean his 'chuks.
Raph crawled overhead, hands held unnaturally to the ceiling itself, as he maneuvered above them. Leo's stakes embedded themselves in a wavering line, tracking his movements. Raph was fast-scary.
The tip of Don's staff bobbed before Mikey's nose and he grabbed the lifeline quickly, using it to help kick himself up and out of the shallow grave. Not his. Not today.
"You okay?" Don asked him grimly, brown eyes patting him down from a distance. Mikey nodded. He felt dusty, a little rattled. Mostly mad. Don looked back towards where Leo was leading Raph off, and he looked pretty mad too. "I'm going dog-ear all of his boxing magazines when we get back home."
"I'll help you get the dogs." Michelangelo promised solemnly.