AUTHOR'S FORWARD:
First I must give Dierdre a spinning-hug and a GREAT BIG HUGE THANK YOU for taking the time to do such thorough beta-reads for this story and the one shortly to follow. She was the most impressive TMNT fanfic writer I'd come upon so far, so I was absolutely stoked that she agreed.
MAD PROPS to Eastman and Laird for coming up with such a wicked and wildly original comic book concept as these Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, and to Mirage for keeping them alive and still brilliant after so many years. It's only thanks to you guys that I now get the opportunity to play around with your complex and brilliantly foiled characters. Yep, that's all I'm doing here, folks. No claiming, no selling... just borrowing them for a little bit of make-believe and harmless dreaming. Please enjoy!
Cheers,
Whitney Prince
P.S. "Tiffany" is not an Original Character! Tiffany is a code name for something else entirely. Read carefully and Don will reveal what they're really talking about. )
o O o
o O o
- - O n e -
"Donnie!"
No response. Michelangelo sometimes found it hard to tell whether his brainiac brother was actively choosing to ignore him or just concentrating hard enough on his work to block out the rest of the world. "Yo, Donnie!" the younger turtle tried again, this time lobbing a grape at him.
This worked. Startled out of his reverie, Donatello brought up a reactive hand, causing the grape to deflect off the olive green heel of his palm. It bounced off and rolled somewhere under the desk. Frowning, he ducked his head down briefly to look for it, but it had hidden itself well among the dust bunnies and coiled computer cables. Dragging his gaze back to the doorway, he could see Mikey smirking at him without apology.
"Haha. Dude, if that was a shuriken you'd be SO dead right now."
"And since when do you eat fruits and vegetables of your own volition?" Don groused good-naturedly.
"Since Leo up an' declared we've all been eating nothing but junk for too many months now. He got with April an' they TOTALLY raided the fridge, man… You oughta see it. Nothin' left but a buncha whole-grain, part-of-a-balanced-breakfast hippie shit." He scowled mildly, even as he popped a few more grapes into his mouth.
"Huh. So, ah..." Don was already flicking occasional glances at his computer screen in silent indication that he wanted to plunge back into whatever he'd been doing before the interruption. "Did you need something?" he prompted pointedly, but not unkindly.
"Nothin' major." Michelangelo accepted this as an invitation to enter properly, slinking around to Donnie's side of the desk and leaning against the edge of the cluttered surface. "I just wanted to ask if – whoa!" He'd taken a glance at his brother's screen, which was filled with windows. "Talk about multi-taskin'… You're chatting with HOW many people now?"
"Wha-? No. They're DotNet windows," Donatello corrected. "Programming stuff."
"Huh... Right on." Michelangelo popped another grape into his mouth, before noting wryly, "And here I thought you were getting all studly behind my back."
Don gave an amused snort at that. "Sorry to disappoint. So… your question?"
"Yeah! Uh, I just wanted to ask you if, ah." A sudden bout of uncommon shyness was accompanied by the lowering of his voice as Mike continued reluctantly, "Well. I was just wondering. If you'd… maybe… been hangin' out with Tiffany lately? Or - ya' know. Even just - seen her around anywhere?"
THIS served to draw Donnie's full attention much better than a whole handful of flying grapes. He sat up straighter and swiveled in the office chair to face his younger brother head-on, the scaled ridge of one of his brows hitching minutely.
"Mikey…" The purple-masked terrapin hesitated, clearly choosing his next words with care. "I haven't spent any time with – Tiffany. Not since that night you first introduced us. I mean, it was interesting, but sort of – experimental on my part. You know? I haven't really missed her company since then. And the truth is… I don't know if she's someone I'd want to spend time with on such a regular basis."
"Yeah, yeah." Mike shifted his feet, starting to look uncomfortable now. "I hear ya."
"Besides. It's not even noon yet."
Calling upon his uncanny ability to quote pop culture, his brother quipped without missing a beat, "And I said, what about – breakfast at Tiffany's?"
It was one of Don's favorites. He couldn't help returning that familiar grin, even as he grumbled, "I'm serious, Mikey."
His concern earned him an eye-roll and a predictable reproach. "Too serious. Look, just forget I said anything. I'll find her on my own, okay?"
Once again, Donatello found that his cautious and responsible nature was waging a war with his innate desire to be supportive of any brother that came to him for help. It was just too rare an occurrence, these days. Furthermore, the notion that he might be growing apart from the others - Mike in particular - had become a very real fear. Lately he found himself loathe to do or say anything that might further estrange him from his brother.
Splinter had called him in for private counsel on several occasions in the past, and had tried to gently explain to him that these fears were crippling his ability to lead the others in Leo's absence. When he stopped to think about it logically, Donnie was fully inclined to agree, and he had vowed many times to correct this flaw. But now, watching Mikey roll his eyes and hearing the hollow note of disappointment in his brother's voice, his resolve fled… just like it always did.
"Hold up, now. So… Like. You can't think of any place you might have left her?" Don prompted eventually, and somewhat awkwardly.
Michelangelo had begun a retreat towards the door, but turned back at this and shook his head with an unhappy wince. "Not really."
"Well…" Donatello scratched at the back of his neck thoughtfully before suggesting, "Whenever I lose something, I usually start by trying to picture it clearly in my head. You know, just the way it was when I last saw it."
Mike brightened at this suggestion and launched into a merry description. "Well, let's see! She's naked, for starters."
"Of course," Donnie agreed wryly.
"And bright pink all over! And she's all pressed against the barrel and smushing her butt on it, and she's got like, her hands clasped up over her head like this." He was happy to demonstrate. "With her shoulders pushed back, an' showin' off her ginormous pair of..."
"Okay, OKAY, Mikey!" Don said with a hasty rush of embarrassment, waving his hands to cut him off. "That's quite clear enough, thanks. Let's just... skip the rest of that and assume we both remember what your stupid bong looks like, okay? Try to focus on what was lying around it."
Michelangelo sighed. "I'm tellin' you, bro, this isn't gonna help. I mean, I already know where it was. It was in my ROOM, right? And now… well, it's not. End of story."
Don gave him a sympathetic flinch and a shrug. "Then I don't know what to tell you, Mikey. I'm really sorry. Maybe you could check with Raphael?"
"Raph?" Mike widened his eyes at that notion. "Raph… and Tiffany?! No way. Raph and the Cap'n, maybe. Raph an' Jimmie Beam, for sure! But," he clutched at his heart dramatically, "not my TIFFANY! Not Pattycake! I won't believe it! I CAN'T believe it! I SHAN'T believe it…"
"It still can't hurt to ask him," Don countered, rubbing his fingers against his temples to ward off the onset of a headache. "Even if it's just to rule it out. Raph's known about the pot for awhile now."
"No kidding! That's why I'm baffled though. I mean, you seriously think Raph took it? He's the one who keeps tellin' me I'm gonna turn into a dirty hippie! Or, like, just the other day? He overhears me talkin' to my guy, trying to get some late night delivery, and he lets into me, all 'Geezus effin Christ, Mikey! Ya damn hypocrite, rah-rah bitch and snarl! Here I am, mournin' the good ole' days when we were out there bustin' drug dealers, and you got 'em on fuckin' speed dial!"
"Well I never said it was probable, just possible," Don pointed out, unsmiling and determined to remain serious. It took effort, though. Nobody could do a good Raph impression quite like Mikey.
"Hehe... Gotta give him props for that rant, though. It was one of his better ones."
"Mikey, just stop and think about it for a second," Don persisted doggedly. "If it wasn't him, do you really like the alternatives?"
"Oh." THAT wiped the last vestige of humour off his younger brother's face. "Right. So I… guess I'd better go and… talk to Raph about it," he agreed slowly, lips pulling back like he'd just swallowed something foul.
He was easing the door shut behind him when Donnie suddenly called out, "Hey, Mikey, wait! When you said Leo cleaned out the fridge… do you know if he touched that one big case on the bottom shelf? The stuff I ordered over the internet? I know you've seen me drinking it." His tri-fingered hands gestured nervously as he elaborated, "You know, dark blue bottles? Um – kinda like a mix between a soda and an energy drink?"
The younger brother shook his head gravely, "Dude. I hate to be the one to break it to ya', but I don't think there was ANY soda left by the time he and April got through in there. They did a real number on the fridge, the pantry… they even tossed my secret stash of-"
But he didn't get to finish. Donatello was up in a flash, shoving past a startled Mikey and storming out into the lair's common rooms.
"DAMNIT, LEONARDO!" he hollered at the top of his lungs, stalking towards their eldest brother's room at the end of the hall. "So help me, if you've laid so much as ONE FINGER on my Bawls you owe me FORTY BUCKS!"
Mikey was still hovering just outside Donatello's room, staring wide-eyed, when the door across the hall suddenly cracked open enough for Raphael to poke an unmasked head out and peer blearily towards the ruckus. "Say WHAT, now?" he growled.
"Do not even look at me, dude," Mikey murmured, sidling up closer to Raph. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head slowly. "I am SO an innocent bystander in these ball-touching shenanigans."
"Heh," Raph grunted. He glanced over and could only remain grumpy and aloof for another moment before Mikey's shit-eating grin of pure amusement got to him. Then the two of them were gripping the wall and holding their sides, howling with laughter.
o O o
All the commotion eventually intruded on Splinter's morning meditation. He stirred, and his good ear twitched towards the noise. After several long moments spent listening and cherishing all he could hear, his lips pulled back in a subtle smile.
An unsettling and dysfunctional quiet had permeated their secret tunnels for too long now. At last, he reflected, the lair was starting to sound like home again.
o O o