Disclaimers: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...obviously. If I did, this would be a cartoon, a comic, or a movie, and not a FanFiction. Note the 'Fan' in that, won't you? Nor do I own the Discovery Channel. But I do watch it a lot. Long live the nerds.
Explanation: Writing the first chapter was too much fun to keep it a one-shot. I decided I'd add chapters as I thought of them. If it becomes a running story, so be it, but now it's just a series of pranks. If you know of any good pranks, just tell them to me, and I might make it into a chapter. Hope that makes you feel special.
This chapter is a little long. I got to writing and couldn't stop. x)
And finally, happy birthday to me. xD I am so selfish, no?
Enjoy.
In the dojo the following morning, Raphael was unusually hostile when sparring with his brothers.
"Say it!" he roared into Donatello's ear. The purple-clad turtle was pinned beneath his sibling, his arm stretched dangerously far over his back.
"I…won't…say…it!" Donny grunted, struggling against the mat on the floor. The situation was hopeless, of course, but it would be an intense strike to the boy's ego to give up. Raphael growled and pulled his little brother's arm further over his back. Tears of pain squeezed out of the corners of young Don's eyes, until he could not handle the pain, and surrendered with a soft, "Uncle."
"I can't hear you!" Raph sang, refusing to release the turtle's arm.
"Raphael!" a commanding voice chastised. "Release your brother at once." Their sensei strode across the sparring mat, and wound his fingers around the top of his son's shell. Young Raph was hauled to his feet by his angered father, and swatted aside. "Come, Donatello," the rat instructed, holding out his hand.
"Thank you, Father," Donny murmured, taking hold of Splinter's hand and pulling himself to his feet.
Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled things to himself. The other three were sure to stay out of his way, huddling in a group away from him. Mikey and Leo had filled Don into their tricks that morning while Raphael had been in the showers. The sewer's strong water pressure was sure to drown out their voices as their whispered over their toothbrushes.
"Today, my sons, we shall practice in pairs, with your weapons," Sensei declared. He paused, looking his sons over slowly. "Raphael, you are to train with your wooden sais today. I see your meditation has not been helping you control your frustration," he said slowly.
The others sighed thankfully as they walked towards the weapons cabinet. They doubted an angry Raphael would have inhibitions as to where he stuck those sais of his. Eight eager hands snatched up their weapons, clutching them to their chests and against their hips as they returned to the sparring mats, waiting to see which partners they would be assigned; the nervous trio prayed silently they would not duel with Raph.
Their father eyed them carefully. It was obvious he knew something was up, but was unfamiliar to the tricks of little boys. He had not found it odd at all to have changed young Raphael's bed sheets that morning.
"Michelangelo," Splinter began, Mikey's heart began to beat in his chest, "will work with Raphael today." He nodded to the remaining pair, needing no words to assign them their partners. It was not a hard deduction, considering there was only one other prospective opponent for either turtle.
"Yes, Father!" Leo replied hastily. He and Donatello headed towards the far end of the mat.
As Donny passed Michelangelo, he whispered beneath his breath, "Dead turtle walkin'."
"Mmm," Mike mumbled. He swirled his nunchakus as he walked towards his own end of the mat.
Their father waiting for them to take their positions, weapons ready, standing opposite their partners. "You may begin."
Leonardo and Donatello did not seem to notice the 'starting whistle.' Their attention was focused on their brothers, wishing to see the beginning of the third World War.
Raph leapt at Mikey, carelessly prodding at him with his sais. The orange-clad turtle was able to dodge the shots, and fire a few of his own. The ends of his nunchakus bit at Raphael, slapping against his leg, his shoulder, and the backs of his knees. Mike was getting cocky with each new strike.
"Whatsa' matter, Raphy? You gotta' stay focused, man, you're getting' sloppy in your old age," he sang merrily, jumping away from another round of jabbing motions made by his brother.
Raphael growled, eyes narrow, slashing blindly. Michelangelo could avoid him easily, but his ego was getting the best of him. He was taking too much pleasure in aggravating his brother. The spinning of his nunchakus began to slow, until they were hanging limp between his fingers.
"C'mon, Raphy, Raphy," he laughed. "You can't hit me, dude! I'm like lightning! Float like a butterfly, sting like a-"
He was cut short when Raphael aimlessly threw one of his sais towards Mikey's head. The broadside of the weapon struck him across the forehead, distracting him long enough to enable the second turtle to throw himself against him. The pair fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and shells, Michelangelo's shoulder cushioning their decent to the ground with a sharp, 'CRACK!'
"Owwww!" Mikey howled, crumpled beneath his brother. "Lemme' go, lemme' go!" he pleaded.
Raphael shoved her forearm against his brother's throat, pinning him down. "How 'bout that! Can I hit ya' now, light'nin' boy? You ain't no butta'fly now, are ya'?"
Their father stepped in to stop the fight. "Enough!" he roared, prying Raphael off of his brother. The rat was surprisingly stronger than his body would allude to. If one were forced to age him, he would have been in his early to mid forties, perhaps. None of the boys knew for sure, he refused to tell them. They knew of their own birthdays, however, as they were always celebrated (Though the day occasionally wandered. At least once a year, they were given a treat.). "None of you have been meditating! Your distractions are getting the best of you!"
The turtles rarely saw their sensei angry, and it was a frightening thing when he was.
"Enough training for today," he groaned, pressing his long fingers to his temples. "We will resume our lessons later in the day, we will be practicing the art of meditation, the clearing of one's mind."
Michelangelo stood up slowly, holding his nunchakus in one hand, and his injured shoulder in the other. "Jeeze, Raph, was that really necessary?"
"I was only warmin' up," he snarled.
"Michelangelo," Splinter called, he was standing before the dojo's exit. "Come with me."
"I didn't do anything!" he whined quietly.
Leonardo chuckled before he could stop himself.
"It's not funny!" Mikey barked.
"Yes it is," Leo disagreed. "Here, give me those…" He took Mike's nunchakus. "I'll put 'em away, go see with Sensei wants."
Mikey nodded and jogged away to confront his father, his mind running laps trying to figure out how Splinter had found out about the prank. Leo wouldn't have tattled. They were beyond that age. And if he had, so help him…
"Let me see your shoulder," the rat instructed once his son had reached him. The child winced as his father pressed his hands against his skin. "You will be fine by tomorrow. Come, I will give you something for it."
Splinter laid his hand on the back of Mikey's shell, leading him away. The three remaining brothers had thrown their weapons in the designated cabinet, and left to take advantage of a rare break from training.
The rat's long toenails clicked against the cement the lined the kitchen floors as he lead Mikey away from the dojo. Removing his hand from the boy's back, Splinter paused before the refrigerator; it was a gift from a junkyard, one the naturally tech-smart Donatello had managed to get running again.
"Michelangelo, take this." Their father rustled through the freezer, pushing away freezer-burned mold pockets that had, at one point, probably been food. At last he withdrew an icy bag of frozen corn, and handed it to his son.
Mikey stared at the bag in his hands. "High-tech," he mumbled. "Can't we splurge on an icepack, Sensei?"
"Hush," Splinter grunted, pressing his bony hand to the boy's shell, pushing him foreword. "Now, cease instigating your brother. You have brought this upon yourself."
Mikey grumbled beneath his breath as he shuffled from the kitchen. Sensei did not know about their tricks, this he could be sure of. If he had, he would have confronted the four of them and demanded an explanation. Now he was sitting back, waiting for information to surface.
The young turtle made his way towards the couch. He just wanted to sit back and relax after his defeat. Donny and Leonardo were waiting for him there, peering over the back of the sofa eagerly.
"Did you get in trouble?" Donatello demanded.
"Why do you have corn?" Leo followed.
"No, and Sensei gave it to me," Mike replied bluntly, walking around the couch to sit with them.
"Gave you corn?" Donny retorted.
"For his shoulder, brainiac," Leo laughed.
Donny smacked his forehead, his expression clearly exclaiming, 'Oh, duh!'
Footsteps behind them caused them all to spin where the sat. Raphael had come to join them.
"How's yer' shoulder, Mike?" he snorted. Michelangelo thrust out his tongue at him.
Raph swung himself over the back of the couch, taking a seat on the end of the chain of small turtles. Donatello snatched the remote control off of the coffee table before any of the others could make a grab for it.
Mikey groaned, "Please, Don, no Discovery shows! I can only hear so much about nuclear psychologists before my brain turns to mush."
"If your brain liquefies anymore, it'll be running out of your ears," Donny shrugged. "And it's nuclear physicists, not psychologists." He pointed the remote at the TV, clicking it on. They didn't get very good reception in the lair; most of the channels were black and white, and played old movies. He left on a Sci-Fi movie having something to do with lobster-like aliens invading New York City.
Ten minutes had passed in silence. Splinter had come to join them, settling down into his armchair with a cup of tea. He pretended not to be interested in the movie, but the boys caught him watching it from the corners of his eyes.
During a slower section of the motion picture, Raph grunted, "This stinks."
"And the costumes are terrible," Donatello agreed. "You can see the zipper whenever the lobster guy turns around."
"No, not the lobsta'," Raphael rolled his eyes. "I mean, somethin' really stinks."
"Ugh, I think it's Mikey!" Leo groaned, turning his face away from his little brother, who he had sat next to.
Donatello couldn't smell anything, but he did not say it aloud with fear of igniting a sibling war. Two against one was more of a massacre, but one Mikey could recover from quickly. Backing Mike up would even the odds and spark something more. Don was too much of a pacifist for anything that extreme.
"Ew! It is!" Raph laughed.
"That's enough," Splinter declared. He'd found himself saying a lot of that lately. Four young boys in the house would have that affect on a person. And they hadn't even hit their teens yet…
"Fine!" Mikey barked. "I'll get a shower, losers!"
Ignoring Sensei's scolding, Michelangelo leapt off the couch and stormed away.
His angry footsteps echoed through the lair. When he was finally out of earshot, Donatello remarked, "That was mean."
"Very much so, Donatello. May you hold onto that way of thinking. Forbid your brothers to corrupt your young mind," Splinter sighed. Taking his empty mug, the rat shuffled towards the kitchen for another cup of tea.
"Okay…" he blinked, before turning to his siblings. "What was that all about? He didn't smell."
"Sure he did," Leo stated, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go…train," he declared.
"Don, mind if I use your computer?" Raph questioned casually as Leonardo began to walk away.
"Um… No, no, go ahead," Donatello replied slowly.
"Thanks, bro," the turtle turned, and left, leaving Donny alone with the lobster-man alien movie.
Don tossed the remote control onto Sensei's chair, knowing the humanoid rat would be returning with a full glass of tea once the commercials ended. Getting up from the couch, he spun on his heels and debated what to do. He could train with Leo, but no child in their right mind would do work when they didn't have to. Only Leo, he always wanted to make Sensei proud. He didn't dare go bother Raphael on the computer. He hated to be interrupted while he was doing something. That left waiting for Mikey to get out of the shower. Perhaps they could play a board game or something, maybe some cards. Don began to walk towards his bedroom to grab a deck of playing cards. Perhaps he could convince his younger brother to play a game of War with him.
As he walked, Donatello heard faint howling. He stopped, confused. No one would let a dog into their lair, and it would have been next to impossible for one to find its own way in. He listened closely, wondering if it were an injured cat, before he realized the howling was actually a string of words.
"Idon'tbelievethis!" it roared.
Don began to jog to find the source of the sound. It grew louder as he neared the bathroom. He knew then what 'injured cat' was making the noise.
"Mikey!" he called. Donatello paused at the archway leading into the bathroom. The entire lair was door-less, though Splinter had strung up crude curtains in the bathroom for privacy reasons. Because of these, Don could see nothing past the circular ring of sinks. He really had no need to, really, considering the fact a thick wall of foam was seeping from beneath the shower curtain. A crisp, soapy, smell wafted from the foamy mess.
The curtain was wretched back, its rings screeching loudly as they ran across the bar that supported the entire contraption. A dripping, sudsy, Michelangelo leapt from the shower, ranting madly about something to do with revenge. Technically, he was naked, but they were turtles, not humans, and weren't concerned with such things.
"Mikey!" his brother exclaimed. "What-"
"Where's Raphael!" It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"I don't know," Donny sputtered. "On my computer, I think?"
"This is the last straw!" he growled. Six thick fingers wrapped around a soaking orange bandana, which had cemented against his skin with the combined force of soap and water. A loud squelch, the sound of a suction breaking, rang out as Mikey tore the fabric off of his head. Don didn't dare ask why he had worn his headband into the shower…
"Man," Donatello whistled. "What happened in there?"
Mikey wrung the bandana between his hands, creating a puddle of murky water at his feet. "I was turning on the water, to warm it up, ya' know? It wasn't running out of the spout, so I looked to see if somethin' was blocking it, and BOOM! Bubbles everywhere!" He rubbed his fists against his eyes. "Dude, I think I got it in my eye!" he whined.
"Well, stop rubbing it!" Don cried.
"Whoa, bro, what have you been doin'?" A cocky voice came from behind them. They turned; Raphael was walking towards them, and Leonardo was not far behind, at the end of the hall.
"You did this!" The youngest of the four cried out, throwing his finger towards Raphael.
"I dunno' what yer' talkin' about," Raphael sung innocently. "Ya' needa' towel or somethin', Mike?"
"That's it, Raphael!" Mikey threw his soaking headband on the ground. "I accept your challenge. This means war!" He stormed away, a trail of suds and bubbles following him down the hall, until he slipped out of view into his bedroom.
Donny sighed. "You packed soap into the shower head, didn't you?"
"And shampoo. Figured I couldn't be too careful." Raphael began to laugh. He smacked Leo on the shoulder as he turned around. Don assumed they were both in on this, and had neglected to enlist him. It was probably for the best, really, since he might have tried to talk them out of it. The red and blue banded turtles laughed happily as the walked down the hall, in the opposite direction of Michelangelo.
Donatello rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom. Taking up a mop that was kept propped against the bathroom wall, he got to work cleaning up the shower and surrounding area before Sensei noticed. Oh, they owed him big time!