A/N: Hey guys! Another drabble for you (not Leorai this time, sorry XD)

If I remember correctly, at the 2015 SDCC, Ciro Nieli had mentioned the Fugitoid becoming something of an uncle figure to the turtles, April and Casey. And I can kind of see it in every episode, which is really sweet! Plus, I just LOVE Fugitoid like you have NO idea, so I decided to take a crack at writing him!

ALSO THAT NEWEST EPISODE GUYS! SO MANY FEELS!

I OWN NOTHING!

Enjoy!

Uncle Android

Professor Zayton Honeycutt had never had a family of his own. He'd never married or had children, nor had he ever had any real intentions of doing so. All those years ago, he'd been fully invested in his research, much like his colleagues had been. He'd wanted to stretch his knowledge far and wide, from brain matter, to robots, to the secrets the vast universe itself held. Perhaps settling down with a family could have come much later, when all was said and done, when he'd finally exhausted his knowledge and was satisfied with everything he'd accomplished.

However, a visit from the Triceratons had destroyed that idea, along with all his life's work…and his original body. If it hadn't been for his robot assistant, he surely would have perished.

After that fateful day, whilst on the run from the vicious alien reptiles that deemed him a criminal – for refusing to resort to whatever horrific misdeeds they would unleash upon countless other worlds – the idea he'd once pondered over had all but faded away. As a fugitive on the run through the cosmos, settling down was no longer an option for him. And as for marriage and reproduction…well, that was most definitely out of the question now, virtually impossible in fact.

Still, he had to admit that at times he was rather lonely, more so than he'd ever been back on his home planet. There, he'd had a robot to talk to at the very least, but on this ship, surrounded by machines that couldn't talk back…it tended to get to him sometimes, more than he wanted to admit. And it was because of this that there were times he wondered if he should've settled whilst he'd had the chance. But alas, what was done was done. And even if he wanted to go back and change that, which he could, he wouldn't. He wasn't entirely in the mood for paradoxes, thank you very much.

And besides, any companion he had would surely face the unmerciful wrath of the Triceratons along with him, and he didn't want to be held responsible for the life of that poor soul, nor would he want to go through the heartbreak of losing them.

Soon enough, he'd managed to convince himself that he was better off alone, and lived his life as a fugitive android – as a Fugitoid – with soundness of mind, in the peace and quiet of his space ship. Well, sort of.

However, that all changed the day he'd been contacted by Bishop, and had rescued four ninja turtles and their human siblings from a world on the verge of destruction…and from the very same creatures he'd sought to avoid.

After that, his ship wasn't so peaceful and quiet anymore.

"Great Gizmos! Bleep Bloop! What in the world is going on here?!"

The six teenagers all turned to him and froze, eyes widened to saucers and expressions written with embarrassment and guilt all at once as they stared at the android standing in the doorway of the common room.

After the computer had warned him of yet another leak in the hull of the ship, Fugitoid had been forced to take a detour and make an emergency landing on the nearest space-port to buy some more fuel. After the catastrophic mess that had occurred on the last space-port they'd visited, the android didn't really trust himself to let the children wander off in the city just yet, so instead, he'd instructed them to stay on the ship until he returned.

He was met with protests from the young ones, of course, but after 'insisting' that they stayed – "Don't make me smack you! 'Stern Face' and 'Smacking Hand', you see it?" – they begrudgingly did as they were told, and Fugitoid left knowing that they were mature enough and smart enough to obey him…and keep the ship clean.

When he'd returned, the deck was spotless, as were their sleeping quarters, which he was very pleased with. However, when he'd gone looking for them in the common area, he was met with food from the 'Think-A-Food Machine' splattered all over the walls, all over the floor…and all over them.

To say he was angry with them would be an understatement. He'd been gone for two hours – two hours – and yet they'd managed to turn the entire room into a war-zone more fitting for the Hollo-trainer.

"Well? Any of you care to tell me what in the name of Cog happened while I was away?" he probed further, his robotic hands on his hips and his foot tapping impatiently as he regarded them all. Shifting uncomfortably where they stood, with April idly twirling a lock of her red hair – coated with pepperoni slices and tomato sauce – with her finger, and Casey whistling tunelessly through the gap between his teeth, the six of them averted their gazes from the Fugitoid.

Finally, Leonardo raised a hand, albeit timidly. "Um…I can explain," he said.

Fugitoid turned to him. "Oh indeed, Leonardo, please do," he said, though his tone was not pleasant in the slightest.

Leo gulped, pressing his fingers together nervously. "Ah, well…we were watching T.V for an hour or so, and then we got hungry –"

"And then these two dinguses decided it was funny to throw food at each other," Raphael interrupted, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Michelangelo and Casey, who both stiffened before frowning deeply at the accusation.

"Hey! FYI, you threw a whole burger at me first, dude!" Casey snapped, stomping over and shoving Raph in the chest. "And besides, no one said any of you had to join in and make a mess of the place!"

"And besides, what were we supposed to do, Raph?" Mikey added, picking off bits of cheese off his plastron. "When you get food thrown at you, you gotta defend yourself somehow –"

"By throwing more food?! Where in the hell is the logic in that?!" Donatello barked.

"You're one to talk, Donnie! You threw a salad at me!" Leo cut in.

"Only because you threw a meatball at April, ya brute!"

"How am I a brute?! And how is that an excuse?!"

"That is QUITE enough!" Fugitoid called over their arguing, shutting them all up as they turned to face him again. He sincerely hoped they could see his 'Stern Face', because good-golly was he wearing it now. "I am not interested in who started it or who finished it. Beep! I want this place spotless by the time I return from fixing the hull, and then all of you are going straight to the bath!"

All of them groaned pitifully. "But Professor –" Mikey began to whine, but was quickly silenced.

Fugitoid was raising his 'Smacking Hand', waving it slightly in warning.

At that, the teenagers hustled, setting out on getting the place cleaned up without further argument. As they gathered the mops and dustpans, Fugitoid sighed and shook his head, before marching out of the room to prepare their baths, which was something else he really wasn't looking forward to. Who knew that human children were so rambunctious? And he'd thought piloting a ship had been hard, but these kids were the pinnacle of a migraine waiting to happen.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons he'd preferred to live alone…

Hours passed, and after the turtles had finished cleaning the room, cleaning themselves, Fugitoid had added on a punishment for the chaos they'd caused – involving the rest of the day with no television and no more usage of the 'Think-A-Food Machine' until dinner in earth time – before he left to repair the hull, once again leaving them to their own devices. All the while as he carried on with the repairs, he prayed to whatever was listening to him that they didn't destroy anything or wreak any more havoc out of sheer boredom…

Also, he wondered…had he, perhaps, been a tad too harsh with them? It was true that they'd made a mess of the place, but in the end, it was just a food fight, something he wagered many earthlings did, and was completely harmless nonetheless. Not only that, but they were still children…

…they were children, who had watched helplessly as their entire world was swallowed by a black hole…children who had survived wars together…children who had less than six months to save their planet before they lost everything they held dear again…children who were so lost, filled with so much anxiety, that they'd had a food fight to let go of even a fraction of the pain they'd endured…

And yet he'd gotten cross and punished them…and he wasn't even their father…

Adding the finishing touches to his repairs, Fugitoid stood up and sighed. Yes, perhaps he'd been a tad harsh on them. Perhaps he should go and offer an apology. Yes, that would be the right thing to do.

Entering the ship once more, he was surprised to find that the deck was empty. Not even Donatello was there. Confused, he wondered if they'd gone to their sleeping quarters instead, and was heading towards the hallway when he noticed the lights in the common room were still on. Huh. Perhaps they'd decided to play a board game in there?

Taking his time as he prepared what he intended to say to them, he entered the room. "Boys, April. I've come to tell you that I – oh, dear."

The Professor had expected them to be leisurely doing something to pass the time, or possibly picking fights with each other. What he hadn't expected was for them all to be asleep on the couch in front of the silent television.

The six of them had squashed themselves together on the couch, with Michelangelo lying across their laps. At one end, Casey had draped his left arm over the top of the couch by Raphael's head, who had both arms wrapped around Leonardo. Donatello had pillowed his head against Leo's shoulder, letting April rest against his chest at the other end of the couch.

Dumbfounded, Fugitoid stared at the scene before him. It was rather heart-warming, to see them all so at ease, so at peace, so blissfully oblivious to everything around them…it was something the android hardly ever saw between the six of them, despite knowing just how close they were.

"Aw. Well, then," he whispered to himself with a soft, fond chuckle. There was no need to wake them just yet. He would offer his earnest apologies to them afterwards.

However, just as he turned to leave them be, he spotted a piece of paper near Michelangelo's dangling hand. Tilting his head, curiosity overtook him as he bent down and picked it up.

To his surprise, it was a letter, one addressed to him. And due to the inconsistent handwriting styles, he could tell that each of them had added their own piece to the letter.

'To Fugitoid,

'We're real sorry about trashing the place while you were gone. We shouldn't have done it, 'cus it's your ship after all. ~MIKESTER'

'You trusted us to keep the place spotless, and we let our boredom get in the way of doing what you asked us to do. Despite how each of us tried to pin the blame on the other, it was actually a team effort. Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again. ~ Donatello'

'Yeah…we kinda messed up, Fugitoid. We're sorry about the mess, and we won't do it again, we promise. Whatever. ~ Raph.'

'Professor Fugitoid, you've taken good care of us these past few weeks. You've given us a place to stay, given us a hope and a second chance to save our world, our friends, our family…and we thank you by making a mess of your ship. We meant no disrespect, Fugitoid. Please accept our humblest apologies. ~Hamato Leonardo'

'You've been great to us, Professor. We're really so grateful for everything you've done for us, and we're really sorry for making it look like we're taking advantage of your hospitality and kindness. You deserve more than what we could possibly give you. ~ April O'Neil J'

'We seriously messed up back there Fugi-dude. We were just having a little fun, but I guess we went a little too far. Won't happen again. Jones' Honor ~ CASEY JONES YO'

'From TURTLES + April & CASEY'

P.S FROM MIKESTER: You might not be our dad or anything, but I totally know we all think you'd make a great uncle! Just don't tell the guys I wrote that!'

Fugitoid stared at the piece of paper in his robotic hand for what felt like an eternity. As an android, he couldn't physically shed any tears. But Cog forbid if he wasn't sobbing his heart out on the inside as he looked up from the letter and stared at the teenagers sleeping soundly on the couch.

"W-Well…well I never," he breathed, his eyes smiling as he brought his free hand to his chest, clenching it into a tight fist.

A moment later, he'd zipped to their rooms and returned with an armful of blankets, carefully draping them over the dozing teens. Then, after gently laying a robotic hand atop Michelangelo's head as affectionately as his new form would allow him to, he switched off the lights and slipped away without a word, making his way back to the deck to pilot the ship.

All the while, there was a skip in his step, his right hand clutching the letter tightly.

Professor Zayton Honeycutt had never had a family of his own. He'd never married or had children, nor had he ever had any real intentions of doing so. He'd convinced himself over the years that he was better off alone, and had lived his life as the Fugitoid with soundness of mind, in the peace and quiet of his space ship. However, that all changed the day he'd rescued four ninja turtles and their human siblings from a world on the verge of destruction. After that, his ship hasn't been so peaceful and quiet anymore.

And Fugitoid, as he glanced back down at the letter in his hand, decided that it was much better that way.

"Michelangelo is right," he mused to himself aloud as he manned his station at the 'wheel'. "I'm not their father, and I never will be…

"…But I'll make a pretty damn good uncle if I do say so myself!"

A/N: YOU DA BEST, FUGITOID!

More drabbles on the way!