"Raph, we need to talk."

Green eyes seemed surprised as they turned to meet his. Michelangelo couldn't blame him, it was a sentence that was restricted to use on cardiac patients. Besides, Michelangelo rarely sounded really serious, like, once in two years or so; which probably would make Raphael get curious.

"Whazzat, Mikes?" Raphael asked, trying to sound more casual than his eyes reflected as he crashed an orb with Space Heroes logo on it – guess whose favorite decoration it was.

They were in the sewers, in a tunnel that had a dead end and woods protecting the entrance. The Hamatos had been using there as storage for a long while now. April had asked what kind of ornaments they had for Christmas; her mind was still busy with her 'perfect holiday' plans. Leonardo and Donatello had decided that Michelangelo needed to at least get out of the lair even if they still weren't sure about the topside; after all, he hadn't been to even sewers after the slider trip with Donatello. The boxes of ornaments could be too heavy for Michelangelo to carry with his massive injury, so they had sent Raphael with him to take care of that. Raphael hadn't complained.

Raphael hadn't complained about anything that included Michelangelo since five days ago, and the turtle in orange was sick of it. It just didn't feel like he was talking to Raphael anymore. His older brother pretended as if he was the same, but there were some changes; although Michelangelo couldn't name them one by one, they were kinda obvious. They talked to each other as usual and he didn't hold back his insults for him, but whenever Michelangelo's injury was mentioned or his gaze slipped to his brother's bandages – the latter occurred pretty often – all his muscles got tense in a visual level as the expression in his eyes transformed into something darker, and sadly, he thought he managed hiding it. Raphael moved extra cautious around Michelangelo, considering how short-tempered turtle hated being cautious, it wasn't a small detail. And Michelangelo thought Raphael was having fun with him no more, because he was always nervous whenever the shortest turtle was around. Michelangelo was missing him; and hard to admit, he even missed getting beaten after a prank he pulled. Those hurtful but brotherly punches were fine as long as Raphael was his party bro once again.

"Get over it."

"Get over what?"

Michelangelo wanted to scream because of the larger turtle's pretending ignorance. He was never good with serious talking, and Raphael wasn't making it easier. "Get over the… thing… that happened last Sunday. You know, the thingy thing."

Raphael suddenly found a tiny Santa figure more interesting than the freckled mutant. "Oh, you mean you getting almost killed because of a stupid lunge I decided to do? Sure." His voice was clear of any emotions, as if it really didn't matter; but how his tone was combined with his words told another story.

"Raph, stop it." Michelangelo suddenly dropped the pile of sparkly material in his hands to the floor, managing to create a slight thump. "Is it too hard to think that I make my own decisions and they have nothing to do with you? Because what, I am not the oldest or the smartest out of you guys? I didn't block that attack just to make you think I am a fragile Japanese doll! Well, I am Japanese, but I am not a fragile doll!"

Raphael blinked his eyes slowly in a not-amused manner. "Fragile Chinese doll."

"Exactly Raph, I am not a fragile doll or Chinese, but you didn't have to point it out in the middle of my serious argument."

Raphael facepalmed.

"My point is, why do you go all grumpy grandpa around me, and even think you are good at hiding it? You aren't good at it at all. And I hate you acting the-overprotective-masochistic-dude when you're with me! And I don't always hate stuff, you know."

"What else can I do?" Raphael suddenly snapped and took a abrupt step towards his brother, making him reflexively step back a bit. "You were dying, Mikey! I saw you fighting with an impossible amount of bleeding with my eyes. I felt you breathing less and less in my arms. And why was that? Because I was too fucking stupid! I lost so much time back there that you had to save me and take the responsibility of my fault!"

Michelangelo frowned, he was about to repeat that it was his own decision and he couldn't bear seeing one of his brothers' death before his eyes; but he was taken aback when he noticed a small drop of tear in the corner of almond shaped green eyes. "…Raph?"

Raphael furiously cleaned the drop with his finger quickly before he immediately turned away and grabbed a box. "Let's go back," he said sternly and slid his body between the woods without even looking at his younger brother.

Michelangelo wished he hadn't opened his mouth in the first place as he leaned to take the ornaments he dropped before.

This one is rushed because I had two exams today. Nailed chemistry, but I screwed in Turkish Literature. Wait, that's not what I was going to say.

Oh, and my rush is the reason that the statements are shallow; it isn't why the argument is short. It was supposed to be short. Both are not fond of verbal fights, and Raph would never stay there after accidentally showing a weak spot of him. But it could be a deeper, realistic, emphatizable argument if I didn't rush.

Yes, they had to do that argument today, because Michelangelo isn't the most patient turtle on Earth. In other words, the timing was fucked up, and I wasn't really in a mood to write emotional. Sorry'bout that.