A/N: Forgive me for the ridicilous delay. We're getting closer to the end, though, so I'll be able to finish this story for sure. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Responses will be posted at my author forum at Stealthy Stories. For those of you who haven't already been there, there's a link you can use on my profile. I hope you still find this funny. Don't forget to review. Enjoy!
Chapter 10 - "Are you blackmailing me?"
Having enjoyed yet another fabulous breakfast of dry, butterless bread, the four hikers were busy packing up their things. It was one thing to set up tents, but to then successfully squeeze them down the backpacks… That was the real challenge! Mikey in particular seemed to have trouble with this, Raph having finally decided it was his turn to carry the tent, even despite the fact that both his feet were still sore from the too-tight-boots incident. Donatello, meanwhile, was enjoying his first day without the trademark plastic bag tied around his foot. His wound had healed up quite nicely, due to his careful morning, night and every hour in-between cleaning of it.
As they waited for Mike to shove the rolled up tent bag down his backpack, using brutal force and basically no patience whatsoever, Don took the time to admire the nature. The early morning birds, the beautiful flowers, the majestic trees around them and the... approaching storm?
"You guys..." he hesitantly said, shading his eyes with his right hand. "Doesn't that look like rain to you?"
Everyone but Michelangelo turned around to look in his direction, detecting the gloomy group of clouds that seemed to lie in wait in the horizon, most likely carrying bad news.
"Sure does," Leonardo agreed, squinting his eyes at the bright sun. "Good thing April found us those rain coats."
Donatello snickered knowingly, glancing at Raph in amusement.
"What?" Leo wondered, looking between his two siblings, an eye ridge raised in suspicion.
"Well, if my memory serves me right," Donnie began with half a smirk, "Raph refused to pack his coat."
"What?" Leo's eyes widened at the information. He quickly turned to Raphael for confirmation, whose glare evidently challenged him to say anything about it. "Oh, c'mon Raph!" Leo exclaimed in exasperation. "Why would you do that? For what good reason?"
Raphael only crossed his arms in stubbornness. "I ain't dressin' up like a freakin' rubber duck. Simple as that."
Glancing at Michelangelo, who had finally managed to close up his backpack, Leonardo tiredly sighed in defeat, knowing it was useless to argue about it now - miles and miles away from the house. So instead he grabbed the straps of his backpack and set off to begin this day's destination, mumbling to his red-masked brother as he passed him by, "You'll have no one but yourself to blame once that storm sweeps in."
Walking behind the leader, Raphael only shook his head in disagreement. "Please, Leo. Those clouds are about as harmless as Mike's talkin' sock."
"Giraffe!" a rather annoyed Mikey corrected him from behind, trying to strap on his today even heavier backpack.
Raph merely chuckled deeply to himself in amusement. "Storm..." he said in a mocking voice. "Why you always gotta exaggerate so bad, Leo?"
It was getting closer to noon, and Raphael tiredly avoided the roots that covered the path his eldest brother had picked out for them, the aftereffects of last night's barn dance finally starting to make itself known to him. He didn't get much sleep – for obvious reasons – and his temper suffered the worst because of it. And Michelangelo's constant nagging about how he thought he felt a drop of rain on his beak didn't exactly put him in a better mood.
"Did you guys feel that?" Mike spoke up behind them where he walked last in line. "That had to be rain."
"Sure it was," Leonardo mumbled where he walked up front. "Just like all the other drops of rain only you felt." Donatello chuckled briefly at his brother's dry answer.
"I'm telling you, this time I really felt it!" Mikey insisted. "It was cold a-and wet and instant and…"
"Maybe it was bird droppings," Don lazily offered.
"Oh, ha ha," Mike frowned. "Very funny, Donnie. I think I would know the difference between a drop of water and some bird dumping his overload on me."
"Whatever," Raphael irritatingly cut in. "Juz shut up and walk, will ya? I think we'd notice if it started rainin'." Satisfied his comment had succeeded in shutting his little brother up, Raph quietly made his way through the woods, trying not to step in anything sharp or smelly.
"Okay, now I definitely felt something!" Mikey then chirped up behind them.
"Seriously, Mike," Don began in protest.
"No, I really mean it this time," Michelangelo interrupted him. "I'm telling you, it's gonna pour down any minute."
"Right..." Leonardo mumbled, only shaking his head to himself. In all honesty, he really wished it would just start raining already, at least then they wouldn't have to listen to Mike's false alarms every other second. Then, as if his not-so-thought-through prayers had been answered, he distinctly felt a small drop of rain landing at the very top of his bald skull.
"There it was again!" Mike hollered in his usual need for attention kind of way. "I felt another one, and it was right here," he said, pointing to just below his right eye.
"Mikey, please..." Don sadly shook his head as he walked.
"No," Leo interrupted his brother by stopping entirely. "I think he might be right."
"What?" Don and Raph both turned to look at the eldest turtle in surprise.
"I'm serious," Leo continued. "I felt a drop of a rain a second ago. I think it's actually coming down."
"See?" Mikey instantly lit up at the leader's confirmation of his theory. "I told you I felt it!"
"Whatever," Raph muttered as he pushed his way past Donatello to keep walking. "It's prolly just a few drops ta keep these trees from dryin' up completely."
"Well, I don't know about that, Raph," Leo said as he picked up the pace again. "I think we should make a move on if we wanna cross the field before this gets any worse. At least then we'd be somewhat protected by the trees."
"I second that plan," Donnie nodded and followed his two brothers, with an overenthusiastic Michelangelo falling behind as he dug inside his backpack for the easily detected yellow raincoat he'd packed.
If rain was the angels up in Heaven crying, then they must have watched the world's saddest movie judging by the way the water had been coming down the past half-hour; and Raphael, the rebel who refused to pack a raincoat, suffered the worst. He was soaked, he was cold, he was pissed, he was tired of having the words 'I told you so' tossed in his dripping face and – most of all – he was only inches away from stealing and smashing the highly disliked mp3 player Michelangelo had brought with him against a random nearby tree. He was getting quite sick of his little brother's singing, especially when all the songs had the theme of water in them.
At the moment he was wailing the chorus to 'I'm Singing in the Rain' – for the fourth time in a row.
Another thing that was really starting to grind Raph's gears was the splashing sound coming from inside Mikey's water filled plastic bags each time he took a step, as if every little bad quality about his little brother had teamed up just to make him suffer even more in this almost overdramatic rainstorm. Speaking of things that bothered him, the fact that Leonardo the Wise had been right about the powerful rainstorm was what annoyed him the most, because he knew he'd confront him at one point or another during the day, demanding the ever so classic confession of 'I was wrong. You were right.'
It was not something he was looking forward to. In fact, if he had to take a pick between admitting to the Flawless Leader that he'd been wrong or taking the part of back up vocals to Mike's now fifth performance of 'I'm Singing in the Rain', he would gladly clear his throat and burst into downright awkwardly out of tune song.
Donatello, meanwhile, was worried sick for his precious collection of flowers that were stored in his book. Because what if his backpack leaked? What if all his wonderful findings – including the Raphanus raphanistrum – had been drenched to the point where they couldn't be saved, or even recognized? It would truly be the world's greatest tragedy known to mutant turtles. However, it wasn't terrible enough to keep a smile from taking control of his features as Raphael sneezed violently behind him. He wasn't a sadistic person, but what could he say?
The stubborn idiot had it coming.
Taking a break from his so-called singing, Mikey happily turned around to look at his red masked turtle. "Bless you," he said, only to earn a deadly stare in return.
"Drop dead," said Raph, trying to recover from his sneeze when he suddenly felt another one approaching.
"I was only trying to be nice, you know," Mike insisted, turning back to look at his other two brothers as they walked, the red masked turtle trailing further and further behind because of his sudden sneeze attacks. "Plus, we did tell him to pack a coat," he pointed out for the umpteenth time that day.
"I AIN'T DRESSIN' UP LIKE NO RU--"
"Rubber duck, we know," Leo calmly finished, helplessly shaking his head at his brother's idiotic principles.
"So, you'd actually rather be a sick ninja turtle than a healthy rubber duck?" Donatello concluded in disbelief.
"He-- HAGH-TCHOO! Hell yeah!" Raph answered, red burst eyes looking up to meet his brother, feeling how his pulsating beak grew to twice its normal size, throbbing excruciatingly.
Leonardo had to admit that he felt bad for his brother, who was obviously getting sicker by the second, but not bad enough not to collect what rarely – but rightfully – belonged to him. He'd been biting his tongue ever since it first began pouring, but now when his poor sibling even started sneezing because of how hard it was coming down, he simply couldn't hold his smugness inside anymore.
"I hate to be the one to rub it in at a moment like this, Raph," he began, earning everyone's attention as they walked, "but weren't you the one who thought those clouds were nothing to worry about?"
Raph's slightly swollen stare darkened in anger.
"Weren't you the one who said, and I'm quoting here: 'Those clouds are about as harmless as Mike's talking sock'? That was you, right?" the eldest inquired.
Raphael only muttered an incoherent insult in return.
"And, correct me if I'm wrong," Leonardo cheekily continued, "weren't you the one accusing me of always exaggerating when I foretold of this unfortunate rainstorm?"
"Whatever," Raph muttered, trying to look as though he wasn't bothered by his brother bringing this up.
"I think you were," Leo quickly answered his own question, sharing a smile with Donatello before moving on the point. "Would that mean that I was right, and... and you were… wrong?"
"Hmphmmh," Raphael mumbled.
"I'm sorry?" Leo wondered, stopping to look at his furious brother.
"I ain't sayi-- Haa… HAAGH… HAGH-TCHOO! I ain't sayin' it!" Raph finally managed to reply.
"Oh, c'mon," Michelangelo begged. "Just this once? Just to let us know what is sounds like."
"Ova' my rotting corpse," Raph firmly told them, hoping to put this issue to rest for good. "No, you know what? Not even then. Not even when pigs fly, hell freezes ova', an' Shredder grows a conscience the size of Mikey's appetite– all on the same day," he said, causing all three of his brothers to frown in visible disappointment. "Maybe," he then added, earning three pairs of hopeful stares, "maybe the day Mike is voted our next President, the people of the world bow down ta his knowledge, and we all get ta move into the White House togetha'. Maybe then."
It had been a long day's walk, especially considering the circumstances. One brother had earned himself a cold in the rain, another was deeply depressed that his flower collection had been ruined by the rain, a third brother's throat was sore from singing too much, and the final brother was dead tired from having listened to said brother's off-key singing, in fact, they all were.
Sitting gathered around the yet to be lit campfire they impatiently waited for it to stop raining, or at least clear up enough for them to cook the fish that were left since Leo's fishing record the night before. It wasn't raining very hard anymore; still it was enough to put out the would-be fire. There was an awkward silence in the moist air around them, one coat-less brother desperately trying to stay warm by keeping his wet, shaking arms folded around his upper body, a deadly look in his eyes daring any of his brothers to yet again bring up the fact that he should've just packed the stupid coat.
In-between Raphael's sneezing, Mikey's growling stomach rose above the tapping sound of light rain, reminding everyone that dinner had yet to be cooked and eaten.
"You think we should try again?" a starving Michelangelo carefully inserted.
Casting a hopeful look upwards, Leonardo squinted his eyes at the still fierce sun. "I dunno, Mikey. What if the fire'll just be put out again? And even if does stop raining, who's to say it won't start back up as soon as we've got dinner in the making?"
Pulling his plastic yellow hood further over his head, his eyes nearly disappearing underneath it, Donnie wondered, "Well, don't we have anymore of those hotdogs left? We could eat those."
"Not unless any of you guys packed more than the one package we had yesterday," Leo replied, everyone instantly turning to Mike for answers, who was known for smuggling food.
"Don't lookit me, dudes," Mike said. "I only brought snacks and that kind of thing. Not actually real food."
"Figures," a cold Raphael muttered, his teeth on the point of chattering.
Disappointment ruled the camp, when Mikey suddenly lit up with a kind of happiness only he could display in a situation like this. "Hey, I know, guys!"
Three pairs of more or less interested eyes turned his way.
"You know how the Native Americans would dance to... well, summon rain?"
"I don't think we have that problem, Mikey," Don mumbled, pointing skywards with his eyes.
"Well, yeah," Mike briefly agreed. "But I was thinking. If they could do it to produce rain, maybe we could do something similar to stop the rain. Get it?"
Three blank stares met his proposition, not knowing whether they should feel surprised or not. After all, the aforementioned idea had come from Mikey's mouth.
"C'mon, it's worth a shot!" Mike stubbornly tried to cheer them up.
"And let's say this actually worked in theory," Donatello tiredly began, "how do you suggest we do this dance? We don't know the steps, and even if we did we'd just end up summoning more rain."
Realizing this, Mikey's spirit quickly sank. "Oh. I didn't think of that."
"Course not," Raph muttered in annoyance.
And that was all it took for the four of them to lean back into the heavy silence that had been surrounding them before Mikey's brilliant plan was revealed. However, they were surprised to witness that it didn't last very long.
"What on earth are you doing?" Leo asked as he watched the youngest turtle dance around them, flailing and waving, chanting words no other person had even attempted to speak before.
"Improvising," Mike said, picking up a random stick and using it like a magic wand as he strutted about the camp, always going in circles around his siblings.
"Native American's don't sound like that," Donnie pointed out, looking mildly amused, in contrast to his other two brothers who just looked like they were only moments from tying the orange-banded turtle to a tree and leaving him.
"When they chant backwards, they do," Mike insisted, happily moving on with his anti-rain dance.
"Oh for Heaven's sakes!" Leo outburst. "This is ridiculous. There is no such thing as a rain dance, especially not one performed backwar--" Startled by the lightning that tore across the sky, Leonardo never finished his sentence. Even Mikey quit dancing, and they all looked upwards, waiting for the familiar sound of thunder to let them know how close nature had struck. Indeed a growling thunder followed shortly thereafter, the loud booming sound reaching deep down their cores. The, miraculously, all rain ceased.
"That was... odd," Donatello was the first to speak up, not really sure what to make of what had just happened.
"Coincidence," Leo shrugged, quickly reaching inside the bag for the matches and lighter fluid.
"Whatever, dude," Mike said, taking off his raincoat. "I danced, it stopped – and you all saw it. Bow down to my power."
"Oh well," Don said, rising to his feet and stripping down of his coat. "I'm just glad we get to eat." He then casually hung the dripping piece of plastic clothing over a nearby branch, before walking up to his and Leo's tent, positioned a few feet behind the youngest turtle. He unzipped the entrance and reached inside to search his backpack for his water bottle. When standing there, bent over and searching his bag, Mike's shrill voice soon pierced his focus.
"Eww! What's that?"
"What's what?" a mildly annoyed Raph wondered.
"That," Mike said, and then Don clearly felt someone pointing at his left ass cheek.
"Mikey, would you please refrain from grabbing my ass," Don calmly said, irritation dancing all over his words.
"Oh-my-god!" Mike outburst. "Oh, that is so gross!" Leo and Raph quickly got up to see what all the fuss was about, and – without Don's knowledge – they were all studying his rear. Only when Leo spoke up did he realize that he too was standing right behind him.
"Um... Don? Felt any irritation around the... bottom area lately?"
"What?" Donatello froze inside the tent. "What are you talking about? And would you please stop staring at my ass!"
"There's a tick feeding off of your tush!" Michelangelo blurted out, causing Donnie's blood to run cold.
Standing by the lake, brushing his teeth and just enjoying that fact that he was alone, Raphael spat once into the water before a mischievous look twisted his features. Quickly looking around himself to see if there were any witnesses, he then slid his hand down his belt and grabbed the object of his kidnapping.
Mr. Gaffy.
At last would he be rid of it. He'd managed to steal it during all the fuss of Don's tick. A terrified Donatello running about the camp in panic, tears rolling down his cheeks while endlessly repeating the words, "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!" did wonders for stealing Mikey's attention.
Looking down at the defenseless piece of kitchen equipment in his hands, Raphael tightened his grip and uttered a few final words. "No Mike aroun' ta save ya this time, is there?"
"Who're you talking to?"
Startled, Raph turned around to find Donatello approaching with a toothbrush in his hand. He quickly hid the oven mitt behind his back. "Err... Hey Don. How's the ass?"
"Nice try," Donatello grinned. "What'cha hiding behind your back?"
Cursing inwardly, Raph brought out his hand to reveal his hostage.
"Mr. Gaffy!" Don gasped in shock.
"Oh, c'mon!" Raph whined. "Not you, too. Soon he'll have Master Splinta' calling this thing that."
An uncharacteristically evil sneer spread across Donnie's lips. "Not unless we get rid of it."
"Say what?" Raph lit up, both surprised and pleased.
"I'm just saying," Donatello continued. "There's a lake, one could easily slip and no one would ever have to know."
"Donnie," Raph chuckled in approval. "I had no idea ye could be so evil."
Donatello shrugged his shoulders. "There's just never been a reason."
"So," Raph said, playing with the mitten in his hands. "Who'll do the honors? I mean, I had been lookin' forward ta throwing away this piece a' shit, but since yer so nice about not tellin' on me..."
"Can I?" Donatello lit up, almost touched.
"You wanna?" Raph offered the oven mitt.
Having never felt so close to his red-masked brother before, Don nearly had to hold back tears when he accepted Mr. Gaffy from Raphael's hand. Who'd known their mutual hatred for Mikey's oven mitt would be the thing that brought them closer? This was truly one of those moments Donatello would forever cherish. Exchanging a malicious smile with Raph, Don then raised his arm, prepared to throw Mr. Gaffy into oblivion.
"Hold it!"
"Leo…" Don stated when turning around to meet his sibling, lowering his arm in embarrassment. "Buddy, pal... What are you doing here?"
Leonardo held up his toothbrush, providing a perfectly good answer to the question.
Raphael, meanwhile, leaned closer to Don as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Throw. The sock. Throw it!"
"I can't do it with him watching!" Don exclaimed.
Walking up to his younger brothers and snatching the mitten out of Donnie's hand, Leo shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe you two. You were actually gonna waste Mr. Gaffy? Mr. Gaffy?"
Donatello lowered his eyes in shame.
"I mean, I can't stand the thing, either," Leo continued. "But behind his back? Mr. Gaffy?"
"A'right already!" Raph interrupted in irritation. "We're guilty. Now stop callin' it Mr. Gaffy," he finished, wincing when saying the mitten's name as if pronouncing it left a sour taste in his mouth.
"You're in no position to give me attitude, Raph," Leo said, sternly crossing his arms. "This isn't the first time you tried to get rid of it."
"What's that supposed ta mean?" Raphael wondered.
"You don't mean to tell me Mr. Gaffy ended up in the campfire by himself the other night," Leo said, causing Raph to grit his teeth in anger at the obvious threat. Donatello curiously followed the conversation that took place between his two brothers.
"Ye can't prove anything," Raph said, strangling the toothpaste in a furious death grip, the bulging tube threatening to explode under the pressure
"Perhaps," acknowledged Leo. "But we'll just leave it up to Mike to decide on who's telling the truth or not," he then said, quickly turning around to head back to the camp.
"Wait!" Raph called after him, not being able to witness the wicked grin that curved the blue-masked turtle's lips. "C'mon, don't tell Mikey. He'd never forgive me if he found out."
Slowly turning around, having swallowed his grin and relaxed his features, Leonardo replied, "Suppose I wouldn't tell him about any of this, don't you think you should scratch my back, too?"
"What the... Are you blackmailing me?" Raph's eyes widened in shock.
"We could easily come to an agreement, and no one would ever have to know what the two of you attempted down here by the like," Leo calmly offered.
"I ain't doin' you no favors," Raph insisted, stubbornly crossing his arms.
"You really want to risk having to watch the look on Mikey's face when I tell him what you two – his brothers – went and did to Mr. Gaffy behind his back?"
Donatello, who was on the verge of biting through his cheek in fright, frantically poked Raph in the side. "Just do whatever he wants. Mike would never forgive us for this!"
Knowing that was probably true, Raph swallowed his pride in one painful bite and turned to meet the leader's eyes. "Fine," he spoke through clenched teeth. "What do ya have in mind?"
Leo's evil smirk finally surfaced, and for the first time in his life did Raphael actually fear his big brother. "Oh, I dunno," Leo said, so obviously lying through his teeth, because the wickedness of his plan was written all over his face, about to grow two red horns on top of his bald head. "I was thinking of something in the ways of you admitting that I was right and you were wrong," he then finally revealed.
"WHAT?" Raph outburst.
"Oh, you know." Leo grinned. "Earlier today, the rain, me being right about it. I'm pretty sure you haven't forgotten."
"You really wanna hear me say it, don'cha?" Raph said, angrily shaking his head in disbelief of the extremes his brother would go to, just to hear him admitting he was wrong.
"I really, truly do," Leo confirmed happily.
"Fine," Raph gave in. He decided it was no big deal. Fine. If him admitting this would give his brother some sick, sadistic pleasure and actually buy him his silence, then why not? It wasn't a big deal or anything. Just words. Plain, simple words. He didn't have to mean them. Only say them. It was an okay deal. He could've probably forced him into doing something that was much, much worse. In fact, this was no trouble at all. Just words.
"Um... Raph?" Donatello humbly cut in, having watched Raphael stand with his mouth open for a good ninety seconds. He'd parted his lips at Leo's proposition, but the words just never came. "Are you gonna admit it, or..."
"I'm gettin' there!" Raph blew up, instantly shutting up his purple masked sibling. "I was... I was wr--"
"I, Raphael," Leonardo firmly corrected.
"What? Oh, hell no!" Raph refused.
"Repeat after me," Leonardo smugly insisted. "I, Raphael, was wrong. And you, Leonardo, were right. From the top."
Raph glanced at Donnie, who only motioned with his hands for him to go on. Letting out a deep sigh, Raph then began what he knew was going to be one of the hardest things he'd ever been forced into doing – and he'd actually lasted through an entire weekend of 'Scooby Doo and the Gang' episodes, due to losing a bet to Mike. He couldn't think of anything that was more iterating. "I, Raphael, was..." Trailing off, he caught Leo's joyful eyes urging him to proceed. "…was... was wrong," he angrily finished. "And you, Leonardo, were... weeerrre..."
"Yes?" Leo grinned. "Go on."
Swallowing more pride, Raph gritted his teeth. "Were r... riiigh... right."
Applauding what felt like the happiest moment of his life, Leonardo said, "Thank you. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Stop it!" Raph ordered, thinking the clapping was just taking it too far. He'd already given his soul up for auction; he didn't need his brother to be the one who actually bought it. Only, when Leo stopped applauding, Raph realized he wasn't the only one who'd enjoyed the show.
"Donnie, so help me god, if ye don't shut yer hands up this very moment, I'll punch ya so hard ye won't even rememba' what date the Nobel Prize takes place."
Stopping instantly, Don mumbled a quiet "sorry" under his breath.
"So," Leo then casually said, moving in to take the abused toothpaste from Raph's still clenched grip. "I guess we'll have to congratulate Mikey on getting voted for next President, huh?"