A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took so long, but I had to get it juuuust right... Just like the porridge.

R & R peoples!

I'm getting really sick of that stupid grin he's got plastered on his face. Taunting, mocking – it's driving me nuts!

And then he laughs. I snap and throw a punch right at his face.

He grabs it in his fist. "Nope. Way too slow. You're gonna have to be faster than that ta get me."

"Shut up Raph! I've only been doing this for what – a week? Not my whole life like you. So stop making fun of me damnit!"

"Chill out. I'm just kidding all right?" he says, almost looking actually sorry. For him – that's a rarity.

I sigh and drop my stance. "Yeah, I know. Just not in the best of moods, y'know? Can we call it quits for tonight?"

He just nods and walks out, leaving me alone in the dojo with my grumpy self.

I stand there, doing nothing for a moment, and then decide that I might as well keep going on my own for awhile – might do me some good.

I give the punching bag only the briefest of glances. Not really interested in that right now. My eyes travel slowly around the dojo and finally come to rest on the weapons hanging on the wall. The bo to be specific.

I cautiously walk over to the wall where they're mounted. I know that I was told not to touch them, but I'm not very likely to hurt myself with the bo - unless I grab it in both hands and deliberately whack myself in the face with it or something.

My hand hovers over the weapon in question for a moment, locked in indecision.

Now or never.

I snatch it off the wall in one quick motion, almost expecting to hear some sort of alarm go off. But nothing happens. I just stand there for a while, feeling the sturdy wieght of the the bo in my hands.

Absentmindedly I start going through some of the motions that I've seen Don do while training. It's not like I'm about to attempt some of the stuff I've seen - I'd probably break something and it'd most likely be my arm.

I just do some of the basic movements he does in the warm-up.

It's actually surprisingly easy. It might have something to do with all those baton lessons I was forced to take in high school, but probably not. It would be nice if those damn lessons had finally come in use for SOMETHING.

Have you ever had the feeling that someone is watching you? You know, the one where all the little hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up? Well I've got that now - and bad.

Trusting in this instinct, I turn around, only to see Don staring at me, his mouth agape.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap!

Unsure of what to say, I just smile sheepishly and turn to put the bo back on it's shelf, hoping to avoid getting in trouble. But before I can even reach out to replace the weapon in question, Don is there to stop me with a hand on my wrist.

Man he's fast! And I didn't even hear him move! Sometimes I really hate living with ninjas.

I glance at him, but instead of looking angry, his face is merely curious.

"How did you learn to do that?" he asks me.

"Uh, well I... I've watched you train, and I just sorta copied what I'd seen you do."

Why am I so embarrassed to tell him that I've been paying attention to his training? I swear, if I knew how my own mind worked for even one second then the universe would explode or something.

"So you learnt that just from watching?"

I nod, still slightly nervous and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"It's amazing that you've picked it up so easily."

Now it's my turn to have my jaw hit the floor. "What? I'm not in trouble? I thought I wasn't supposed to touch the weapons."

He looks thoughtfull for a moment, then says, "Well, you didn't seem to be taking any risks. But I don't think you should try it again without someone there to instruct you."

I nodded. He was right after all, it was a bit stupid for me to try that on my own. We stand there in silence as I ponder what do say next. I know that I don't just want to forget this ever happened. I want to learn more. But dare I ask him?

"Don," I start hesitantly, "Do you think you could teach me how to use this?" I hold up the object in question, looking hopefull.

"Why the bo?" is his only response. Isn't that an odd question to ask?

"Well..." I trail off. How to put this? "I don't think I could bring myself to cut people up, and if I tried the nunchucks, knowing me, I'd end up hitting my own head more often than I would anyone else's."

I watch as a tide of emotions flows across Don's features. Worry changes to anxiety, anxiety to embarrassment, and then back to worry again.

Finally, he speaks. "I suppose that would be okay. When would you want to start?"

I shrug. "Well, I'm not busy right now. Are you?"

A/N: So... what'cha think? Let me know, even if it is just to tell me how evil I am. Love, peace and chicken grease!