A/N: I'm getting better, it would seem. Two chapters in a sensible time frame.
NOTE: The conversation between Raph and Mike near the end of this chapter DOES NOT mean that they have feelings for each other. It's just brotherly banter and siblings picking on each other. This is not a T-cest story as some reviewers have asked me.
Disclaimer: see chapter one
Blue eyes flickered open and blurry vision slowly came into focus. Michelangelo moaned as he began to wake up fully. At first he didn't know where he was; clearly he wasn't in his room. Then, the soft snores coming from beside him reminded the orange masked turtle that he had visited Raphael the night before. Michelangelo felt heat rush to his face when he realized he must have fallen asleep in his brother's bed. "Oops" was the only word that came to mind. As carefully as he could, Michelangelo awkwardly slipped out of bed and tip-toed out of the room. He knew the others would get the wrong idea if they found out about what happened last night...not that anything went on.
Ew, was all Michelangelo could think.
He shuddered at the thought. Raphael was cool and all, but Michelangelo had never seen his red masked brother in any light other than his brother. And if he did, it was the damn hormones' fault. That thought made Michelangelo stop.
"Am I really thinking about this, right now?" he asked himself.
"Thinking about what?" someone yawned behind him.
Michelangelo turned around to see Leonardo walking down the hallway, tying his mask around his eyes. The youngest swallowed nervously. Leonardo looked up at him expectantly.
"Thinking about what?" he asked again.
"Uh..." Michelangelo stammered, trying to think up a believable lie. "Whether to have anchovy pizza or just plain cereal for breakfast."
Leonardo blinked. "You hate anchovies," he pointed out.
Michelangelo smiled nervously and patted his belly. "Cravings," he said.
Leonardo thought about it for a moment. "Fair enough."
The leader headed downstairs. Michelangelo let out a quiet sigh of relief. He couldn't believe Leonardo actually bought that lie. Then again, Donatello had said that some human women experienced cravings for foods while pregnant that they would never otherwise eat.
Score one for screwy hormones, Michelangelo thought.
However, now that he thought about it, anchovy pizza did sound a bit appetizing, at the moment. Michelangelo found his mouth beginning to water at the thought. His stomach even began to grumble. Michelangelo looked down and rubbed his belly.
"You're trouble already, little lady," he said. "Making Mommy have weird cravings for gross food. You'd better not like anchovies when you get older." He smiled and chuckled a little bit. "But, wouldn't it be just like Daddy to do the opposite of what you're told?"
"She wouldn't be Raph's daughter if she didn't," Donatello commented as he walked by on his way to the stairs.
Michelangelo's smile widened. He followed his brother downstairs and into the kitchen. Leonardo was already at the table eating breakfast when Donatello and Michelangelo appeared. As they began to get their own breakfast ready, Raphael stumbled into the kitchen. As if he was running on autopilot, the red masked turtle grabbed a bowl and a cereal box from the cupboard before grabbing a spoon and the milk from the fridge. After placing the items on the table, Raphael got a glass and the carton of orange juice before finally sitting down at the table.
Donatello glanced over at Raphael for a moment, watching his brother pour a bowl of cereal and milk. The purple masked turtle then turned his attention to Michelangelo who was just popping some bread in the toaster.
"How are you feeling, Mikey?" Donatello asked.
"In what sense?" Michelangelo asked back.
"Mentally? Physically? Emotionally?" Donatello questioned.
Michelangelo frowned slightly. "Fine...I guess. Why do you ask?"
Donatello's eyes shot back towards Raphael for a quick second. "Well, it's not uncommon in human women pregnancies for the woman to want to...um...get physical with her partner."
Michelangelo slowly turned his head to look at his brother, confusion clearly written on his face. "In what way?" he wanted to know.
"Um...in the bedroom," Donatello replied.
There was the sound of someone spitting. Donatello and Michelangelo turned to see Raphael wipe his mouth clean of the orange juice he had clearly been in the process of drinking. The implication slowly sank in and a disturbed look washed over Michelangelo's face.
"Um...ew," the youngest said. "That has never happened, nor will it ever. Raph's my brother, not my lover."
"And with that, I just lost my appetite," Raphael said, getting up from the table and walking out of the kitchen.
Michelangelo turned angry blue eyes to his purple masked sibling. "Do you ask these questions just to mess with our heads? What's wrong with you?"
Before Donatello could answer, Michelangelo stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs. Donatello ran a hand over his face and sighed.
"It's not like I want to ask these questions," he said. "It's just as uncomfortable for me as it is for them."
"Don't worry about it, Donnie," Leonardo told him. "You're just doing your job."
Donatello nodded then shook his head. "This just is all so messed up," he commented.
Raphael sat on his bed, his back to the door and his head in his hands. This was so messed up. How could Donatello even think...Raphael shuddered. He tried to erase what had just happened from his memory. Sadly, every time he tried to forget about it, it would always come back to the forefront of his mind. Partner. That's what Donatello said.
"He's my brother," Raphael whispered to himself. "He's my brother."
Brother. He repeated it like a mantra. Nothing more, nothing less. It was hard enough trying to live a somewhat normal life when his baby brother was pregnant with his child...even though Donatello had explained it, Raphael was still trying to wrap his head around that. But now with what Donatello had just implied...Raphael was starting to question everything he ever knew about his family. Then, a thought came to him: Maybe he didn't know his brothers as well as he thought he did. That was a scary notion.
A timid knock on the bedroom door brought Raphael out of his thoughts. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes tight, knowing who was at the door. A heavy sigh escaped the red masked turtle's lips; he couldn't avoid his brothers forever.
"What?" Raphael growled.
The door creaked open and a shadow fell across the wall in front of Raphael.
"Raphie? Can I come in?"
"What do you want, Mikey?" Raphael asked.
Michelangelo stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "You still mad?" he asked carefully.
"More confused than mad," Raphael confessed.
"Confused about what?" Michelangelo wanted to know.
Raphael sighed. "Everything," he answered in a quiet voice. "Donnie..." He struggled to find the right words. "I don't know what my role is anymore."
Michelangelo frowned. "What role? You're a brother and soon-to-be father."
Raphael ran a hand over his face, still not turning to face his brother. "He said partner, Mikey."
Michelangelo took a breath as realization sunk in. "Oh," he whispered.
Raphael shook his head and put a hand over his eyes. Michelangelo thought for a moment on how he could raise his brother's spirits. He drummed his fingers against his belly.
"Ya know...when you think about it...we are kinda like partners," the youngest said.
Raphael slowly turned around and looked at his brother. Michelangelo raised his hands in defense.
"We're sparring partners. We're ninja tag partners. And on the rare occasion where the four of us sit down and play a multi-player video game, we're partners then, too," Michelangelo explained.
Raphael got up from the bed and walked over to his brother, a mischievous look in his amber eyes. "Okay, then, wise guy. If that's the way you want to play, then you're the girl," he said.
"What?!" Michelangelo cried. "Why am I the girl? Why can't you be the girl?"
"For starters: You scream like a girl," Raphael pointed out, earning him a death glare from his brother. "And another thing..."
He gently poked Michelangelo's swollen belly. The youngest pouted as he sadly saw his brother's logic. Raphael smirked.
Michelangelo narrowed his eyes. "You win this round, Mr. Holmes," he said in an exaggerated English accent as he started to back up towards the door. "But, the game is not over yet. You may have won the battle, but you will lose the war."
The moment of evil was broken when Michelangelo went to open the door, but couldn't find the door handle. He looked behind him, found the handle and twisted it. He turned back to glare at Raphael who had his arms folded across his chest and the smug look still on his face.
"Professor Moriarty is not so easily defeated," Michelangelo continued, stepping out of the room.
"Whatever, Teach," Raphael said.
Michelangelo disappeared around the door. "Vengeance shall be mine!" he declared, waving his fist in the air before closing the door again.
Raphael rolled his eyes and shook his head. His brother was losing what was left of his mind. Raphael turned around and walked over to the bed. He sat down on the mattress before falling backwards on to it. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Michelangelo may have a few screws loose, but he was always good for a laugh.
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