A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! :D

Chapter 08: Awkward

Nia expected her father to be away. His position at a local high school covered night-schooling as well as day during Mondays and Thursdays, so she had hoped she'd have time alone with her mother. Since her plan backfired, strained greetings were exchanged between the family when she entered her parents' master bedroom, and she decided to brew coffee with the maker beside the television on a long, double dresser to keep busy.

"You delayed your mother's request," Gavin said while the artist scooped dark grounds into the removable filter basket. His casualty couldn't be ignored, especially seeing as how it was meant to invoke guilt in Mia's presence.

"Leave her be," Mia retorted, somewhat slurred. Nia could only assume the mother had spoken more forcibly than desired because the gurgle of excess saliva sounded before a pause. "Stupid mouth."

"A whole weekend."

"It was late Friday." Mia's words were clearer than before, prepared for speech, and Nia smiled at the heat in them when she closed the coffee maker's lid and pushed the brew button. "Her boyfriend also had the weekend off from work…I'm always free, so it's easier to see me."

"She's been spending more and more nights with her boyfriend."

'He's really in it to test me today, isn't he?' Nia thought, spinning slowly against the dresser.

Beside her the coffee maker sputtered and hissed with its hot task, though it sounded muffled compared to the pulse in her ears. Gavin had the nerve to keep his green eyes on the television's news report—like their topic didn't deserve his full attention. He adjusted his round glasses once, not glancing over, so Nia tensed her jaw.

"Don't tell me you suspect our little Nia of anything." Mia chuckled—a goofy action—then faced her daughter with a bright smile. "She's staying with the whole family. Besides, our baby's a good girl; she wouldn't do anything without being married first. Right, Nia?"

Was it possible to choke on air? Yes. And it jabbed her chest. Nia tried desperately to avoid detection by spinning around and cupping her shaky hands against the dresser's lip. As her mother laughed by her father in bed, the young woman stared at the half-filled carafe, willing it to finish.

'This isn't the direction I want this talk to take. It'd be awkward enough without all the little…issues. I mean, I didn't really disappoint them. Technically, I didn't have pre-marital sex. Kind'a. Considering my circumstances. All the Hamatos deem us married…'

But she couldn't say that.

'Darn it! I'm sure Daddy knows on some level. I won't confirm it for him, though. Or Mama. So I gotta calm down. Don't let them see me flustered. Don't give it away.'

With a sure, steady exhale, Nia eased her heartbeat. Granted it still rung in her ears, she could at least feign innocence while retrieving two ceramic mugs from the pyramid stack amid the coffee maker and low-volume television.

"I was raised as a proper lady," the artist said, stiff. "I wouldn't give myself out cheaply."

"Your father knows that," remarked Mia. "It's not at all what he was suggesting. Right, Gav?"

A pause followed—filled with the pouring of two coffees.

Then, Gavin snorted. "Sure."

"He's probably…worried about you being out with…so much going on in the city."

"The Hamatos look after me." Nia replied—the defensiveness uncontrolled—and she cringed before turning with two black coffees in her hands. "They'll keep me safe," she added, softer.

"I'm sure that's true, but…it doesn't stop a parent from worrying." Mia's kind gaze followed Nia to where Gavin sat on the bed's left side, although she kept quiet a long moment. "Gang wars and terrorist attacks? It's hard not to think about…when your only child is out."

"I'm not involved with them."

"You could be. What if the terrorists—"

"They're not terrorists," interjected Gavin in a thin tone.

Mia sent him a questioning look while Nia offered him a mug.

Gavin lowered the steaming coffee he claimed, pressing it firmly against his leg as if the pressure or heat kept him focused. "Those bombings are for show, a game."

"H—how would you know?" Nia asked.

"If they were serious, the new headquarters would've been struck by now. Like Nine-Eleven. EPF members' names would be credits in news columns. Demands would be made, intents known.

"A month of continual, predictable assaults on something as small as Hubs can only mean one of two things. Someone either feels a need to screw with the organization, or they're testing to see how Bishop retaliates. Either way, it's play."

"Since when do you study terrorism psychology?"

Gavin's green eyes flicked towards Nia, though Mia spoke teasingly before the artist could read any definitive emotion. "You sure you aren't the one out there raising hell, Gav?"

"You know I'm not, Mi. Besides, if I retaliated, Bishop wouldn't notice my motives until it was too late."

"Really?" Nia shifted, resting her coffee against chest. "Sounds like a method some other people we know would use."

Gavin grunted.

"You'd think you have enough in common to get along, but that doesn't make a difference for you, does it, Daddy?"

"Never has," the man replied—a near inaudible action.

Nia frowned when he sipped his coffee, gripping it tightly; she didn't need empathy to sense the rage eating at his control and inhaled to keep it from poisoning her own. "If you're this upset, I'm surprised you haven't gone after Bishop already."

"I have my priorities." Gavin's sharp words and fixed gaze on the television were manners he used when correcting an unruly student, delving a cold pang through Nia.

"Do you?" she asked flatly. Maybe it was the calm gaze her mother cast in her direction or the mood swings brought on by Anemia; either way, the artist stood her ground in an unusual fit of annoyance, staring stoically at the man who refused to accept her adopted clan.

"I have you and your mother," Gavin said after a passing silence. "It's all I need."

Boy, did Nia want to scream—the kind of scream that would bring Raphael pride. Her whole body trembled in danger of it, yet her innate pacifism suggested she avoid a blowout. The father wouldn't listen anyway. So, fists clenched, she twisted at the waist towards her silent mother in hopes of guidance. Below thick blankets, the short-haired brunette returned Nia's pain with a comforting smile, which soon landed on Gavin.

"Well," Mia started, "as the man who wants to…care for us, can you make spaghetti for dinner?"

The redhead caught onto his wife's motives; the spike in his Chi said as much. He paused, his eyes leaving the news for pointed looks at the women in his life. Mia's smile only brightened—no doubt because she sensed his awareness—and when the man stood, he did so begrudgingly. Nia expected him to leave without a word, yet he approached her with a frown on his pale face.

"You're eating too, right?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand.

Nia kept a straight face, saying, "I'm not hungry."

"Appetite has nothing to do with it," her father countered. He gripped her hand then brought it up so her yellowed, chipped fingernails were displayed between the two of them. "If you're going behind my back, the least you could do is take care of yourself. You're eating."

That said, he dropped her hand, almost reluctantly, and spared his wife a cryptic glance before heading out the bedroom door.

"He's not good with change, Ni. Never has been."

Mia's soft tone is all it took for Nia's shoulders to slump. She groaned in a half-whine then headed for the vacant spot left by her father. Climbing into bed, she slouched against the wooden headboard and curled around her hot coffee, a frown on her face.

"He'll warm up," the brunette insisted.

"In a hundred years, maybe."

"Give him some credit." Stiff, shaky, Mia brought a hand to Nia's face. The artist lifted her head when it obscured her vision of the television, yet she didn't jerk away from its clumsy strokes against her hair. "He's had a lot to…get over in the past."

"Like I would know," Nia grumbled. "He won't say anything. And I had to learn things about you from Mister Hugh."

"I'm…sorry for that," the woman whispered. She swallowed hard then dropped her hand. "Guess I'm trying to forget things too."

"And this is where I get my problems from."

"Excuse me?"

"N—nothing. Just noticing some similarities between all of us that my…boyfriend isn't fond of."

"When will I meet him, Ni?"

Grim disappointment churned below her mother's cheer, sinking, which prompted Nia to glance ahead. "I—I don't know, Mama. Their situation is—"

"Complicated. But I'm so eager to know them."

"Yeah…"

"He sounded like a nice young man."

"Huh?" Nia abandoned the television to meet her mother's lopsided grin. "Who?"

"The one who you said talked to me while I was in my coma. It's…good he called because I wanted to thank him personally."

"Wait, wait, wait! Mikey called you?" The surprise was uncontained, so Nia found her voice powerless against the high pitch it instilled like helium.

Mia maintained her smile through its pierce, dabbing the left corner of her mouth with a folded handkerchief. "Ye—yesterday evening he did. Your father had left to get groceries, and the boy said you had given him my number in case of an emergency."

'More like he stole it from my phone,' thought Nia as her lips grew taunt across her face.

"Michelangelo. His name sounds so sophisticated, meant for a real gentleman."

"You got one of those right," the artist muttered.

"Oh, come on. He was so sweet talking to me—if a bit timid."

'Mikey? Timid? That's hard to imagin.'

"So," Nia ventured, clasping her hands, "what did he want?

Mia giggled then leaned back into her pillows. "Nothing major. Just a little motherly advice about a girl."

Was it alright for Michelangelo to have called Mia? Twenty-four hours later and he was still unsure. But he had done it regardless because he needed another's opinion. If Raphael was hell-bent on pushing his youngest brother in the opposite direction and Nia was stuck to her husband's side that meant he needed a new angle. Even if it made for some awkward conversion…

"Besides, just because we can't see her in person doesn't mean we can't get to know her," Mikey said out loud. His heavy weight sunk him through the warm, night air, though he landed on the greystone pathway inside Columbus Park without a sound. When he straightened, he did so with little alarm, entrusting the full canopies of trees would conceal him as he walked away from the high iron fence.

'Talking won't hurt. She can't guess I'm a mutant from my voice alone. And I need help. Even if Sensei knew I was out as Turtle Titan most nights…he isn't a girl. I can't get the advice I need from him.'

So it wasn't wrong, right? Nia was his sister, which made Mia a mother figure. He couldn't possibly be wrong for wanting to pursue a friendship. Stealing her phone number, though? He may be wrong for that.

'Hope Nia doesn't get too angry. She was sleeping so soundly on the couch that I didn't want to wake her. Or risk Raph's grilling. If she finds out from Mia what I've done, I hope she keeps it a secret until we talk…'

Mikey sighed then halted. All this thinking was giving him a headache.

In want of a distraction, the green-clad hero scanned the clearing he'd come to beyond the trees' safety. The same pathway he'd landed on earlier connected with a second then stretched before him like an elegant, gray river. It parted nature from man-made recreation, and on its opposing side laid a familiar site that beckoned him closer.

'Why'd I come? It's not like she'll be hanging around the playground days after a beat down. It's silly to think I can see her, but…I don't know where else to look. Maybe she—wait!'

"You have an awfully spacey act for one with the nerve to call me an amateur, Figo."

Mikey could help his smile about as well as he could turn back an ocean tide. Even so, he made a reminder not to get swept away by its strong pull.

"What are you talking about?" he asked the female behind him. "I may look spacey, but I'm totally aware."

As if to test his claim, movement followed. Mikey whirled at the air pressure he sensed against his head then knelt. Starberry Girl's mouth hung slack with surprise when she glanced through pale green bangs, though she soon clasped it, bringing down the Star Staff she'd tried to aim at his back.

Mikey grinned in response to her snort and leaned so far back that his Supracaudal scute met the asphalt. This warranted perfect leverage to cradle the boot descending towards his lower plastron. When he had it, he lolled back on his carapace, using its curve as aid to project the heroine over his head. She recovered gracefully by dissipating the momentum in a somersault then twisted to land on her feet.

"So you have some right to your claim," she said while compacting her staff. With it no longer than her forearm, she swept it over her shoulder and onto her back. How it stayed, Mikey didn't know

"Maybe if you didn't glory-hog during our team-ups, you'd know that by now."

"If I recall, there wasn't much of a team."

"Oh?" Mikey shrugged. "Guess we should try it again."

"Is that how you play things? You force yourself on signore, ladies, then ask them out on dates?" Starberry Girl spoke like she was annoyed. She crossed her thin arms and scowled, and yet Mikey sensed something else as well, something he knew like second nature: teasing.

'Is she making fun of me?'

With a repressed huff, the mutant crossed his arms too then watched through squinted eyes as she used the parallel bars for leverage before conquering the monkey bars. "I apologized, didn't I?" he asked.

Honestly? The memory of their lips touching lit a fire across his face, and the thumping of his heart couldn't go ignored like he wished.

"Still happened," she remarked with a brief glance his way. Her arms were outstretched while she walked the monkey bars' wooden frame, although a gut feeling left Mikey convinced she didn't need the extra stability.

"No biggie, right?" Mikey tried to keep an even tone. Unfortunately, the realization that he may've disgusted Starberry Girl after all left it uncertain and stiff. "It was just one kiss. A—and an accident."

"Right. An accident…"

'So she's one of three things: disappointed, relieved, or set on revenge. I can't tell which. Judging by how much she wanted to hit me, it may be revenge. Then again, I don't sense any malice. She told that gangster she could be misleading. Is she stringing me along then?'

Mikey tugged at his cowl, grimacing.

'What do I do? I can't apologize any more than I already have! Then again, maybe that made matters worse. "Sorry I fell on ya and stole a kiss, hur-chuck! I really liked it. Wanna be friends?" Okay, so I left out the liking part, but still. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!'

"Is beating your head how you focus, Figo? Because that would explain a few things."

"Do you hate me?" Mikey blurted. The action was involuntary, like his step forward, and a surprisingly strong gasp left the heroine.

She paused on the monkey bars, shifting so she faced outwards, then tugged at the hem of her pleated, pink skirt. "What gave you that idea? I came back, didn't I?"

"Maybe you just wanted to tell me off."

"Have I?"

The mutant tensed, wishing he could see the eyes behind the black mask. "Guess not."

"If I hated you, you would know." With a new smirk, the green-haired female crossed her arms again, though her voice didn't echo with the full confidence from before. "S—so our first meeting got a little awkward. We could…that is…uh"—she sighed—"let's say 'try not to think too hard about it'? I am a little interested in knowing you."

"Only a little?" Mikey countered.

"First rule of business would be your name. You never revealed it Friday night."

"Well someone never gave me the chance."

Starberry Girl snorted then lept from the monkey bars to meet the mutant's grin. "What can I say? I was in the zone."

"No doubt. Nearly fifteen guys—"

"Seventeen."

"However many they were, the police must've had a busy night. Though it's likely the punks were released without a charge against them."

"Who said there wasn't a charge?"

Blinking, Mikey returned the young woman's amused smirk with a raised eye ridge. "Uh, they were assaulting you. Without testimony, they'll walk."

"Unless a little pink and black fairy had prepared for the occasion and stashed several bags of Coke on their person."

"You framed them?"

"Hardly. They owned the bags. I just made sure the police knew they did."

"You really think things through."

"Like I said, I'm no dilettante."

The hero blanched. "You can stop throwing that in my face."

"Can't help it; really pissed me off, Figo."

"You can also stop with the 'Figo', Chibi Hoshi. I don't even know what it means."

The green-haired heroine shrugged one shoulder. "Don't like it? Tell me what to call you."

"Er, well, that's…" Mikey glanced down then up again. "I have a name, except you can't use it."

"What's the point then?"

"You can use it when we're talking like this, but…I can't have the news reporting it. It would be a dead giveaway to my family."

"Ah, gotcha." Starberry Girl nodded in a way that spoke volumes of her understanding, and she brushed aside some of her straight bangs. "So? What is it?"

"Turtle Titan."

"I'll call you TT."

Mikey rubbed the side of his neck as the young woman chuckled. 'That somehow sounds worse than Figo…'

"Alright, TT." Walking in front of Michelangelo, Starberry Girl smiled impishly. "You ready for our first real team-up?"

A:N: I love writing Turtle Titan and Starberry Girl interactions. That banter. LOL. Look forward to more of them come next chapter. ;)