A/N: Another story written for the perspective prompt! And also a tag to "Meet Mondo Gecko," though it won't spoil much.

Donnie had told him not to be upset if Casey didn't make it, 'cause Casey had friends from school and friends from hockey, and a whole busy human life topside that eclipsed them, and Mikey thought he understood. His whole world consisted of about half a dozen people, but Casey's was way bigger than that. Their newly instated "skate night" would be an easy thing to forget about.

Donnie had even given him a stern look until he nodded his understanding. Which was weird. Since when was D on the Pro-Jones Squad?

But whatever—Mikey was excited anyway. He bounced around the lair all day, and probably got on everyone's nerves a couple times each, but he couldn't help it! Skate night!

The whole thing had been Casey's idea. He even cleared it with Master Splinter (a feat that left Mikey speechless and awed) and said he'd do the same with his coach the next time he had practice, and he was so into it that Mikey was buoyed right along just by the sheer magnitude of Casey's enthusiasm.

He didn't really get why Casey was so pumped up about it—the last time they went skating together they ended up in an underground skate-to-the-death Fight Club scene, which, heh, yikes. But then, Mikey didn't know a ton about Casey in general. None of them did, really, not even April or Raph. It didn't make sense, considering they shared so much of their lives with him. Mikey wasn't even sure anyone knew Casey's birthday.

But it came with the territory of masked vigilantism, any comic book enthusiastic would get that; the whole separate lives, secret identity thing. And besides, Mikey didn't really need to know more about him than he did. Casey was Casey, and they fought bad guys and mutants and ninjas together, and they survived an alien invasion together, and he was one of those handful of people that made up Mikey's whole world.

When he wanted to tell them more, he would. Until then, things were fine like they were—and when Casey finally showed up, with his skates strung over one shoulder and a crooked smile on his face, Mikey leaped up and ran to greet him the way he greeted all his brothers when they came home.

–

It was late by the time he hopped the turnstiles, but he was still met by a cheer and a flying tackle that would have put the high school quarterback to shame.

"Jeez, Mikey, good to see you, too."

Casey didn't have much in the way of family back home. He never saw his sister much, not since she went to live with their aunt in Queens, and his dad…stopped being much of one, ever since Casey's mom passed away.

But deep underground, whole stories under Manhattan, he had more family than he knew what to do with. And Mike was already running his mouth about a mile a minute, eyes as round as the moon, matched by a smile just as wide, all 'cause Casey just happened to walk through the front door. And he couldn't help the way his hands tightened on Mike's shoulders, 'cause damn, but what a difference.

"—you came, I thought you forgot!"

"What, for real?" Casey gave him a noogie, coupled by a grin of his own. "Nah, just got a late start 'cause of my old man. There's no way I'd forget about skate night, dude."

There really wasn't. But from the look on Mikey's face, just hearing Casey say so was about as good as getting the key to the city or whatever—and those eyes of his were downright lethal, no wonder Raph was such a pushover when it came to the kid.

Casey couldn't give him NYC—heck, Casey couldn't give him much of anything—but he could spend the night shredding sewer pipes with him, whooping and yelling and wiping out more than once; and with Mikey laughing non-stop the way he was, that felt like enough.

–

They left, taking their noise and laughter with them, and from around the corner you let your head fall back against the wall with a heavy thunk.

One of these days, Casey would come clean about the beer bottles that littered his kitchen floor, his father's rotten nature, the bruises hiding behind all those layered shirts.

He'd put it off a little longer. He'd feel awful and selfish but he'd take the home and the family he was given, and he'd avoid giving back for as long as he could. After all, the only thing he had to give in return was the truth, and it wasn't a very pretty one.

But honestly, you wish he'd hurry up already. If he'd just come out with it, you'd finally be able to do something for the stubborn idiot.

It didn't take a genius to see he needed help.