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plothooksinc · 1 year ago

Note

Assuming you don't have an excess of NRFTW prompts already, mayhaps a missing scene of Mikey confronting Leo about that "Don't kill yourself for a corpse" line? Because I just *know* he had a lot of feelings about that, diversion or no. 👀👀

Me: That should be pretty straightforward Me: ...only now I want to address some other stuff, so-- /17 pages later

The Jupiter Jim figurines that April had put on the bedside stand were gone, replaced by a tray of Mikey’s paints, and Draxum’s (lab? Secret lair? He insisted it wasn’t a castle--) place was dead silent.

They were moving today. Donnie had declared their new residence-to-be hygienically and structurally sound enough to begin the shift over, but Leo was still benched. And Mikey was also benched—unfairly, as far as he was concerned, but Draxum had pushed for him to stay out of the heavy lifting.

(“There’s being able to lift a pound or two, and there’s being able to shift furniture and boxes. It’s a world of difference,” the old goat had said patiently. “Yes, you’re doing much better, but don’t try your luck.”

“But I can use my chains, they won’t weigh—”

“Ahhh, yes. Your chains. With your mystic energy. And what have we said about using your mystic energy?”)

Donnie had told him outright to be thankful he had an excuse to sit this out. But it was Raph who mollified him by pointing out that leaving Leo here entirely on his own probably wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas. Both because he was still hurt and might need help, would be feeling kind of useless and in need of morale—and because a lonely and bored Leo was often a dumb Leo, and if he would listen to anyone and just stay put, it was gonna be Mikey.

And fair. Sometimes Leo definitely required a Delicate Touch.

Today, he’d apply one of a different kind.

Leo’s shell was a mess of fibreglass patches and newly sealed cracks still fragile in some places—Donnie had come up with a thin protective cover for the bulk of them, but the whole look wasn’t pretty and his brother was self-conscious about it. Not that he’d said as much, but the fact that he pulled the blanket right up over it even when it was warm spoke volumes.

Also, Mikey’s fingers itched every time he looked at it. He wanted to make it look awesome. Hence--

“Give me some suggestions?” Leo said. “You’re the artist.”

“Could do a cool dragon?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Well, that was noncommittal. He thought Leo would like a dragon. Mikey frowned. “You know I’ll paint whatever you want. I don’t care what it is.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, that’s way open to abuse.”

“I’m serious!”

“Hmm.”

And he was quiet again. This time, Mikey frowned at him. Was it time for morale boosts already? It seemed a bit early--

“Hey.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking abooout… how I can abuse your mad painting skills?”

“Leo.”

“Seriously, what if I got you to draw, like, a terrible cartoon of Barry falling off a roof or something.”

“...really?”

“You did say anything.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I mean sure, if that’s what you really want.” Though it was such a cheap shot he didn’t think Leo even tried with that one; it felt more like misdirection. “Didn’t know you were so obsessed with him you wanted a reminder painted on you, but—”

“Oh pizza supreme, ew.” Leo shuddered, mashing his face into the pillow. “When you put it like that—”

“So what are you thinking about?”

“Rude.”

“Answer the question, Leon.”

“Ruder. No privacy. Maybe I’m thinking that I miss pizza.”

“You get some tomorrow.”

“What about now?” he whined.

“Leo?”

“Miguel.”

“Do you not want me to paint your shell?” Leo hesitated, and Mikey squinted at him. “We don’t have to.”

“...it’s not that,” Leo muttered, muffled by the pillow. “I do, but…”

Time to pull out the big guns. He flopped onto the bed next to him, offering his best puppy eyes and trembling lip when Leo shifted to face him. “Do you think I’ll do a bad job?”

“What?” Leo pulled back a little, looking panicked. “Of course not! You’re amazing, I just—”

Mikey grinned at him cheerfully. And then stuck his tongue out for good measure.

“—who taught you how to weaponise that, seriously.”

“You did.”

Leo swallowed a laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

His brother held out a hand, beckoning, and Mikey obliged him by taking it. Leo instantly turned his hand over, pushing gently along the joints. “That hurt?”

...oh. That’s what was going on. It said a lot that Mikey hadn’t even thought about injury stress; his arms had been behaving themselves for days now. It was possible, he guessed.

On the other hand, he hadn’t painted in weeks. He missed it. And he wanted Leo to like his shell. So he pulled back, deliberately shaking his hands out and wiggling his fingers, smiling wryly as Leo winced. “Promise I’m good. In more ways than one, baby!”

“Yeah, but what if it starts hurting halfway through?” Leo made a face. “Then I’ll be stuck with half a dragon or something and probably, like, the lamer part. There’ll be a dragon’s ass on my shell and everyone’ll make fun of me.”

Mikey sighed, seeing the whining for the thinly disguised concern it was. It was touching, but he could feel the annoyance starting to bubble up. Of all of them, Leo was the one that generally didn’t baby him. He managed a smile. “We do that already.”

“Shh, let me live in denial. Anywhizzle--”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t ready,” he said, sharper than he intended. (Probably because that wasn’t entirely true—okay, he hadn’t given any thought to it before this, but after reflection, he was pretty sure--)

“You sure about that?”

Leo said it...lightly. For the most part.

Maybe Mikey just imagined the strain underneath, or maybe it was because he was already riled, but the doubtful look on his brother’s face made him bristle defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” Leo paused. “Nothing, I’m just kidding around.”

“You sure about that?”

And this time Leo frowned at Mikey’s mocking tone and shifted gingerly to face him more directly, hugging a pillow to his chest. “Whoa, okay, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just… making sure.”

“Why?”

“...you seriously have to ask?”

“Yeah, actually,” Mikey said flatly, fingers tapping a rhythm on the protective sheet. He just wanted to paint. “I’m more than okay. I’m fine, Leo.”

“Annnd you’ve said that before.”

“I—” He paused.

(“Fine! Just fine. You?”

“Fine. Just fine.”)

Again, oh.

(“You’re both liars and I don’t see why you bother.”)

Mikey let a breath out. Sure, okay. He still felt tetchy about this, but Leo had a point. But it took two to have that conversation, and if they were gonna talk about recklessness--

--and oh, for the third time. He got it now, why he was so hair-trigger irritated. There was a ninja damned elephant in the room.

One thing at a time.

“It’s just painting,” Mikey said finally, voice even. “It’s not like I’m using any kind of mystic mojo and I can stop any time it starts to hurt. I can paint something that can be done in pieces, no dragon asses necessary.”

Leo blinked at him, and then mustered up a lopsided smile. “I dunno. What if dragon asses are my thing?”

He could take that offer for what it was; Leo attempting to walk their conversation back from an edge. For a moment, Mikey was tempted. He just wanted to do something nice for his brother and artistic and prove he could still--

Still paint. He could. He had no trouble at dinner, no trouble lugging Dad’s casserole, and now Leo was making him second guess himself when Leo was absolutely the biggest hypocrite in the room for this kinda thing.

“...Angelo?”

And man, now his brother wouldn’t even let him second guess himself in peace! Rude. He leaned forward to rummage through his paints, voice flat. “What.”

“...hey.” Hesitant and soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, belittle you, that’s not what this is about.”

“That’s a big word for you.” As soon as he said it—heard the snap of his words leave his mouth—Mikey cringed. Especially as Leo stilled on the bed, then sank down into the pillows again, face blank. Okay, he didn’t deserve that. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t be a brat.

So he gave an overly long, dramatic Mermista-style groan and flopped back down on his back next to his brother. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… I’m frustrated. It’s been a while. And you were the last person I expected this from!”

“I get it,” Leo said quietly. “You got stuck here on babysitting duty, you’re already feeling left out.”

“That’s not it. Well, not all of it.” He hesitated, stretching his hands up to link behind his head, voice innocent. “Um… I was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to paint your shell that for a minute I lived in a world where mystic backlash didn’t exist…?”

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Mikey grinned a little as Leo raised his head to glare at him. “You did not just apple juice meme at me.”

“I sure did, Leon. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Ask you nicely to brain yourself with a pillow,” Leo said grumpily. “I’m keeping count, you know.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They lay there in companionable silence.

“I was looking forward to it, too.” Leo said after a while. “I mean, I even let you put the sheet down. It’s only after that we—look, we both forgot, okay? And then I panicked, because I’m not meant to forget that kind of thing. What if you get hurt because I encouraged you?”

“Hmm.” Okay, that was a fair, kind of dumb but standard Leo reaction. “I kind of get it, except for the part where you’re not responsible for my life choices.”

“Yeah, but I’m enabling them. Raph would—”

“Raph would get exasperated at me for pulling a dumb stunt! This isn’t like… being out fighting bad guys and for some reason your plan means I have to hurt myself painting.”

“Close enough,” Leo said, barely audible.

Mikey shifted up onto his elbows, looking at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Mmf.” Leo dropped his face back into the pillow. “Sorry. Forget it, I’m just—”

“Oh no, we are not forgetting it, son.” Mikey sat back up again, folding his arms like a disapproving parent. “Seriously? Are we doing this now?”

“Can we go back to the part where you were going to paint, like, something easy and—”

“Hell no. Leo.” Mikey poked him in the shoulder-- the good one, because he wasn’t a complete jerk. “I don’t remember any point where you had a say in my portal choices. Oh, wait! Yes I do! And your say was dumb and I ignored it—”

Leo blinked at him, baffled. “You-- what? I never—”

“Aha!” Mikey pointed at him triumphantly. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re responsible or you’re not, which is it?”

“No, I’m seriously lost,” Leo said blankly. “Putting aside the whole responsibility or feeling guilt or whatever, I get it, we’ll come back to that (maybehopefullynever) but when did you ignore me? I don’t remember saying anything to you about portals.”

For a moment, Mikey was just. Speechless. Because he could infer two things from that, and he hated both of them. One, that Leo had absolutely talked about his portals, just not with him. And two…

“You don’t remember,” he said, irritation shifting into genuine anger. His voice rose with every word. “The warehouse? That cheap action hero line you threw at me while you were hanging like so much netted roadkill? ‘Doesn’t ring a bell?’ Seriously!?”

Recognition dawned on Leo’s face, and he mouthed something silently—a sentence that he recognised because it had been on Mikey’s mind, on and off, that he’d muttered to himself in the bathroom sometimes, that he couldn’t decide whether it was a cool line or something Leo needed to be slapped for, and that he’d decided to maybe just try and let it go until Leo--

--did this. Forgot it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Don’t kill yourself for a corpse.

“Mikey,” Leo said faintly, and a helpless, placating smile twitched at the corners of his mouth for a moment before it faded under Mikey’s glare. “That was just stalling.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” he snapped. “That wasn’t a-- I thought you knew! Do you really think I’d just encourage you to throw my life away when help was very clearly gonna be on the way?”

Annnd there it was. Because yeah, actually. Leo had put his finger on it precisely without meaning to, and Mikey surged up off the bed. “You’ve done it before, Leo! Once is maybe stalling, but this is a pattern, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”

“Don’t whoa whoa whoa me!” Mikey bared his teeth. And his next words were pitched high and dramatic, hand to forehead. “’Don’t kill yourself for a corpse!’ ‘Casey, when I get to the other side, close that door!’ Actually yeah, now that I think about it, if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, I—”

Oh.

Oh, shit, way too far. Leo flinched as if struck, but he stayed staring at Mikey, eyes dark and shoulders hunched. Making himself small like he deserved it, when Mikey had been trying to point out his arms weren’t his responsibility. Good job, going the exact opposite direction.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

In a perfect world, Leo would blackmail him with threats to tell Raph about his swearing at this point. But his big brother said nothing, watching him in deathly silence.

Mikey covered his face. He was angry. He’d crossed a line. And for a long, yawning moment, he held still, hoping Leo would—snap back at him, or shove him off the bed, or be just as much a jerk back, like he’d been with Raph before the invasion, or that time at the pizzeria, or--

It was so quiet.

Oh, pizza supreme. “Leo,” he said, muffled into his hands. “I’m--”

Leo laughed, and Mikey snapped his head up in mix of confusion and dread, because that was not the correct response. But Leo’s giggling was brittle, and while he was lounging on the pillows like he was so entertained, he was staring past Mikey like he wasn’t there. Something curdled in his gut. “Leo…?”

“You can’t have it both ways, mi hermano,” Leo said, and his tone was so absolutely curated smartass that Mikey cringed. “Either I’m responsible or I’m not, which is it?”

“Don’t,” Mikey said tightly, “Throw my words back at me.”

“Why not? Seems to be a common thing today.”

“You know it’s not what I meant!”

“Seems we got a lot of that going around, too.”

Leo’s humour faded—what there was of it—and now he just looked tired. He shifted awkwardly onto his side to face away from Mikey. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You’re gonna have to tell Raph you weren’t the best choice for the whole morale thing. He’ll understand.”

Words chosen to hurt. They lost their bite when delivered so expressionlessly, and Mikey swallowed against a stupid, stupid desire to cry, because now he was angry and frustrated and guilty and a little heartbroken, and dammit, this was so important, he couldn’t let it slide, but he…

...kinda got why Raph and Leo were at each other’s throats all the time.

He wasn’t going to be the same.

“I have three doctorates,” he muttered.

And waited. For Leo to snort, to cut him down and say sure, and I have a medical degree. With stickers. Which makes it better than yours.

But Leo said nothing. After a moment, he hitched the blanket up to wrap over his shell again, and that felt more like a dismissal than anything else.

Mikey curled his hands into fists. Clenched them hard, just because he could. Because it didn’t hurt anymore, not like before. “I have three doctorates,” he repeated flatly, “And I probably should be taking my own advice, huh. You want more words thrown back at you? I’m not yelling at you because I’m mad. I’m—I’m freaking terrified, Leo! Because you nearly died like three times in the last couple weeks, and two of those times you just kind of… leaned right into it, and I don’t—don’t want there to be a fourth time—”

“You think I do?”

Leo’s response was barely audible, but his head had tilted back just enough for Mikey to know he was paying attention. And man, it was getting harder not to just burst into tears, but then Leo would probably either have to shift into comfort mode (and everything would get derailed) or he’d ignore Mikey entirely and that would feel worse. He compromised by flopping back onto the bed, curling up against Leo’s blankets, and found his voice again. He’d say what he had to say first.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “That’s why, okay? I just—you just seem to keep going for the option that gets you dead lately. You can’t do that to us.”

“I mean, apparently I can,” Leo murmured bitterly. “Seeing as I’ve done it twice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“...I don’t know what I want you to say, either.” Nothing felt right.

“Okay, here’s a start,” Leo said flatly. “If you think I’m trying to throw my life away—”

“No!”

“If you don’t think that, what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not! I’m—” His voice cracked, and Mikey bit off another curse under his breath. And then went fuck it and vanished into the cool dark of his shell, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Leo’s back any more. So Leo wouldn’t turn and catch his tears that were falling without his permission because he cried at the drop of a hat and--

“I’m just scared.”

There was a pause, and a creak of the bed. And a long silence.

Mikey sniffled as quietly as he could.

Another creak.

Then Leo’s voice sounded closer, a little more gentle.

“I had a nightmare about you.”

He blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh-- I kind of know?” He remembered the details vividly enough-- the warehouse, Sister Krang snapping his neck, way awful. But this was after the warehouse, so--

“Raph told you?” Leo said in confusion. “I mean, I never gave him the details...”

--that wasn’t right. Mikey peered out from his shell to see Leo peering back, and his brother gave him a tiny smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was encouraging. “No, I, um… remember how we mind melded at the warehouse? It kind of stuck around during all your fever dreams.”

“Oh.” Leo frowned. “I don’t really remember those.”

“Good,” Mikey said fervently. “Don’t. They’re awful.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He sank back into his shell, but he felt a little better. Leo wasn’t being so cold. He hated it when Leo was cold. “So this was another dream…?”

“...yeah. It was a while ago, right after you showed me your arms that first time. Before… Raph.”

Oh, right. Before everything went to hell. (Again. Hah.)

“I dreamt about you opening the portal,” Leo went on quietly, “And you were trying to save me, and you kind of… just broke apart. Shattered to pieces. And I had to watch that, and the portal closed, and I-- I was stuck and you were—”

Oh.

(If he had a nickel for every time he’d thought oh in the last ten minutes--)

“I didn’t want to be there, Mikey. I promise, I really, really enjoy, you know, being alive. I love you guys! I’m not secretly harbouring a death wish, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter.

“But that terror—it goes both ways, you know?”

He felt Leo lay hands on his shell and try to lift him into a hug.

Which was… very sweet until reality kicked in and he popped back out in alarm just in time to see his big brother go pale.

“Oh my god, Leo!” He scrambled out fully, wiping at his face before he helped Leo settle back, and he couldn’t help the faintly hysterical giggle. “You really are a dumbass.”

“...I did it on purpose to get you to come out…?” Leo’s voice was wheezy, and he gave Mikey a watery smile.

“Liar.”

“Okay, you got me.” He wilted against the pillows. “But not about the important stuff, okay?”

“Idiot,” Mikey muttered without heat. He patted at Leo’s shoulder. “Need meds?”

“...nah. It’s actually not too bad, I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” He paused. Argument maybe averted, but… he wasn’t done. He could just do this a little less meanly. Especially if Leo was willing to talk to him.

“I do believe you,” he said after a moment, because that was important.

“Okay, good.”

“So… you did the whole heroic cool death wish line because you were scared I was gonna get hurt?”

Leo huffed in amusement, but his tiny smile faded. “Mostly, yeah. I was trying to buy you time. And my first attempt just got you hurt more, so… I went the rage route.”

Oh yeah. Leo asking for permission to treat his wounds. That had gone poorly, to say the least. Mikey smiled weakly. “Well, you picked a winner. I got so mad at you.” He still was, but it felt a little better, to pick at this.

“Yeah, well, the Bubblegum Bitch ran on murder and spite. I figured she’d love to see us screaming at each other. And…”

He hesitated.

“And?” Mikey prompted.

Leo closed his eyes. “I didn’t think I could handle watching you open a portal to... that place. Not with the damage it did the first time. Not ever again because of me. I’m not the only one who nearly died here, y’know.”

Mikey frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t try that with me, Mikey.”

He shut his mouth with a snap. Took a deep breath, because he wasn’t going to yell again, and this was… a softer kind of hurt. He got it. He was starting to get Leo. So he had to continue.

“You think I could handle watching you die because I didn’t open one?” He was proud of how even his voice was. Hah. The doctor was back in session. “You said it yourself, terror goes both ways. Stalling can only go so far. By definition!”

“Okay, at this point we’re gonna end up going in circles,” Leo said dryly. “They’re both valid points, okay? But if you can understand why you risked your life in there, can you get why I’d do the same?”

“...because we’re both idiots?” he muttered.

Leo snorted a faint laugh. And Mikey finally grinned at him, before sobering. Because…

“What about before?”

Leo’s face shuttered blank so fast he almost regretted asking.

Almost.

Especially as the look broke a moment later under a lazy smile, which set his teeth on edge. “You’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, little bro.”

Okay. If he was gonna be like that.

“Mhm, mm-hmm.” Mikey nodded, shifting enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, and pretended to write into a notebook. “Patient very sensitive on this subject, a little too late on deflecting comment and accompanying I am full of shit smile…”

“Oh, for-- you can’t doctor me, you don’t have your stupid doctor glasses.”

“Patient deflecting more… by making… immersion-breaking jokes—” He broke off and mimed looking over a pair of imaginary glasses at Leo and grinned cheekily through the churning in his gut. Two could play at this game. “All our stuff is packed. You’re gonna have to pretend, bro.”

“I don’t want to,” Leo said flatly, smile gone. “I’m not in the mood for imaginary doctors today. Can’t you just be Mikey?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Mikey retorted, voice still even. Never mind he probably still had drying tear tracks on his face. “Because apparently you can’t talk to Mikey.”

“I can talk to you just fine!”

“Without babying me.”

“I’m not—”

“Or lying. You know exactly what ‘before’ I’m talking about! I mean, how often do you throw yourself through one way portals, anyway?”

“As Dee would say, approximately never, because I can honestly say I’ve never thrown myself through a one way portal in my—”

Mikey slammed his hand down on the bedside stand so hard his paint bottles shook, two of them outright teetering and falling off the edge. Leo flinched back, sentence unfinished, his expression frozen somewhere between jackass and terrified.

“Really?” he hissed. “You’re gonna deflect now by splitting hairs?”

Leo blinked, mouth still hanging open for a moment before he collected himself. “Very professional observation,” he said faintly, voice shaking. “You should write that down in your imaginary notebook! Also, I’m pretty sure therapists aren’t meant to terrify their patients. You could lose your imaginary license and then where would we be?”

Mikey stared at him, face dark and arms folded. “And now you’re deflecting by pissing me off.”

Leo held his stare for maybe three seconds before he broke and rolled away—gingerly, clearly painfully—to face the wall again. “’m sorry. I really just wanna… I don’t know. Get my shell painted. Can we talk about this some other day?”

Mikey sucked in a breath, loudly and obnoxiously, because he wanted Leo to know he was angry. Then he rolled to collect the bottles that had fallen to the floor. The red one hadn’t been closed properly and he winced at the flecks on Draxum’s carpet. Maybe they could claim it was blood. He’d probably be less outraged, all things considered.

He knew as well as Leo there would be no other day. If this didn’t get talked about now, he’d be looking forward to Leo making sure they weren’t in the same room alone together for weeks. He was angry enough he wondered spitefully for a moment if he should beat him to it and ignore his lying ass like a--

...like a wound up little brother who was easily riled by someone who knew exactly which buttons to press. Sure, Leo would feel like shit about it, but Leo would also be relieved. Dodged that therapist bullet, right? Enough time would pass it would be too hard to bring up again.

Until the next time he pulled this stunt. (Leo wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine freaking lives--)

“Was there really no other way?” he asked bluntly.

Leo hunched in on himself with a faint hiss, and Mikey sat there behind him, his arms full of paint, and wondered how far to push. He wanted to know. Leo had said there was no death wish, and Mikey believed him about his reasoning in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for how Leo shut him down immediately when he asked more directly, he’d have let this go. There was something he was missing.

He had to push the right way, though. Demanding answers from a traumatised person was, okay, maybe not the best strategy? And Leo was absolutely traumatised, no matter how many shit eating grins he’d thrown over the last few weeks while being half dead. (And then half dead again.) He’d come back out of Mikey’s portal a complete mess and hadn’t talked about it since. Krang Prime had been terrifying before his only target had been his brother.

And Leo had deliberately locked himself in with a murderous alien because…

Hero moves are totally your style.

...because that’s what heroes do?

Bullshit.

“How’s your hand?”

Leo’s question took him by surprise—and hurt besides, with how colourless his tone was. Mikey frowned at him before he looked down at his hands, and—right. Probably losing his temper and hitting furniture wasn’t very, uh, wise. But he flexed his fingers, answering in a subdued voice. “Fine.”

...he had an idea. Take a page out of Leo’s book, lure him in with less threatening subjects. Mikey paused, biting his lip, knowing this could also backfire-- but if it did, it would be less devastating than the direct route. He could try again later.

So he sighed. “And… fine. I’ll let it go.”

“For now, huh.”

“...forever, if you need me to. I just—wanted to understand,” he said, turning away to start stacking the paint bottles neatly on the dresser again. “I know we weren’t there to help, and I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologise for that,” Leo cut in sharply. “You got slammed into free fall and nearly died. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

“But Raph had to come after us and you were alone.” And that hurt to remember. His hands trembled. “And then you didn’t even warn us. You didn’t even say goodbye. You just jumped straight to—”

“There wasn’t time for anything else,” Leo whispered. “At least, I didn’t think there was. Okay?”

--that was progress. Mikey leaned forward eagerly, ready to push for more detail-- and then hesitated. He’d just said he would let it go.

So he made himself shut up and sit there quietly, hands in his lap, fingers curled inward so he didn’t fidget.

And waited.

“...Yeah, I keep thinking now about other stuff I might have been able to do,” Leo said finally. “And like, it’s all maybes and what ifs and maybe none of it would have worked and maybe some of it would have, but there wasn’t any time, and I’m not-- I mean, it’s easy to come up with stuff after. I still don’t know if I could have made a better choice. Okay? I just did… I did what I had to. It wasn’t some grand gesture or, like, ‘oh no, this is all my fault, I’ll throw my life away to fix it,’ it was-- we’d never get another chance, and I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.”

…

Right, so there was a lot to unpack there.

“You think the invasion is your fault?” he asked cautiously.

“Not… really,” Leo said, and Mikey wished he’d turn around again so he could see his brother’s face. “Like, you know, I get it. The Foot and the Krang are more to blame for this than me, but I was stupid. So there’s fault, and then there’s responsibility. If I hadn’t messed around and lost the key, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I guess I don’t know that for sure?”

That sounded very much like someone had already had a go at him about this. His money would be on Donnie. What Mikey wanted to know, though, was whether Leo really meant it or whether he was just rattling off someone else’s argument.

“You also got the key back,” he pointed out, and Leo snorted.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “At Raph’s expense.”

Mikey winced-- okay yeah, wrong tack to take. There was a lot he could say there about the fact that Raph was also capable of making his own choices, and he already knew Raph would prefer the whole temporary possession and scarred eye and shell over a dead brother. Just as he knew he would never, ever convince Leo of that, because they were all the same in that regard. It was hard, watching someone get hurt trying to protect you.

So hard. Mikey knew.

“Did you…” He paused, swallowed. Curled up on the bed itself, his shell to Leo’s, knees up to his chest. Maybe this was easier. “Did you think you had to make up for it? Is that why?”

He wasn’t sure if Leo’s soft huff of amusement was a good or a bad sign. “I already said. No death wishes.” His tone was more gentle than cutting, so that was hopeful. “Not on the alien ship, not in the warehouse. Just let it go.”

That wasn’t actually an answer to the question. Guilt could make you do so much stupid shit, and Leo still wanted him to drop it, which means there was more to this--

I couldn’t live with what would happen if we lost.

Mikey blinked.

“I need an oh jar,” he muttered.

“...yeah, because that makes sense.”

“Leo,” Mikey said evenly. “What did Casey say to you?”

There was a brief silence, and then Leo responded with genuine confusion. “Okay, that one you really are gonna have to narrow down—”

“About the future he came from.”

And from the way he heard Leo’s breath stutter to a halt, Mikey had his answer.

---------

He waited. Long enough to hear Leo unfreeze, breathing slow with just the faintest hint of shakiness. Long enough that he finally evened out, and Mikey kept still while he did it, not even touching him, back to back. He wanted to-- wanted to kind of turn and latch onto Leo and hug him, but from this angle he’d end up hurting a whole lot more than he’d help, so… in the end, he just gave him space.

Somewhere down the hall, one of Draxum’s clocks chimed.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Dumb question.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one. Will you please talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Leo was barely audible. “It’s over now, not gonna happen. We just need to look after the one person it did happen for.”

“I think Casey’d disagree.”

“Casey has enough on his plate.”

“Well, he’s not here right now anyway. If there’s no point, why don’t you tell me?”

“Already covered that I don’t want to.”

The thing is, just by not telling him, Leo had basically confirmed for Mikey some pretty obvious key factors. This time he deliberately quashed the irritation at the thought of being babied. He got it. He did.

“So,” he said slowly, eventually, “I’m gonna assume you’re trying to protect me. Or us. From horrible, terrible, no good, bad future knowledge. Am I right?”

Leo’s silence was confirmation enough.

Mikey took a deep breath. Okay. He had it now. He hoped. (He also didn’t hope, because it was so bleak, but--)

“You know,” he said quietly, voice deliberately oh so casual, “When someone, like, drops in from some futuuure timeline—add reverb—to change the course of history, it kinda means that whichever future he came from is a lost cause. That much is obvious, you know?”

Silence.

Mikey sat up, glancing down at the huddle that was his brother.

“I know Donnie dies,” he said, and watched Leo flinch. He knew how Donnie died. That part, he would leave out just in case. “Raph woulda died before all of us. April—”

He stopped. The point was made and he was being cruel enough already. “I know I was still there at the end. So were you. Because we were the ones who sent him here.”

“Yeah,” Leo said quietly. “You opened a portal through time. Pretty amazing, bro.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly. “I know, right?”

“Be more amazing if you’d survived doing it.”

He’d figured as much, but hearing it still sent a sliver of nausea through him. And if Leo had known that much, the nightmares about Mikey shattering would just have been icing on the cake. And--

And--

“Everyone died,” he said, eyes wide. “Everyone. Except you.”

The way Leo tried to curl into himself at that could not be healthy for his injuries. This time Mikey did reach out, both hands patting at his brother’s shoulder tentatively before he latched on, trying to discourage the pretzeling. “Lee—”

“I know.”

“It didn’t happen!”

“I know!” Leo snapped. “Because I made sure it couldn’t!”

Mikey let go-- half startled by the outburst, half taken by surprise when Leo threw him off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Also not a good idea because Leo had barely managed standing earlier, so what the hell he thought he was doing-- but apparently he was content to sit on the edge of the mattress, using his good arm to keep himself propped up, his entire body curled away from his little brother.

Well. Too bad. Mikey crawled over the bed to sit next to him. And when Leo didn’t move away again, he huffed and wormed his way under that arm, offering a better support. Leo was rigid against him, but he didn’t flinch or try to push him away, so.

Win. Such as it was.

“I get it,” Mikey whispered.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“Yeah… I don’t get that part.”

“Because it’s—” Leo broke off, darting a look at him before he turned away. “It’s all I could think of. I made a big speech about how we could change the future after all, and then when you guys got knocked down, all I could think was that we’d tried so hard, and we still lost, and—and I thought-- I wasn’t thinking. I mean I was, but it was stupid and—”

He hadn’t heard Leo stammer around the point like this in a long time, and Mikey tipped his head against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Leo’s. “s’not stupid, bro. Like—it’s a high stress situation, y’know? D’you think me or Donnie or Raph were coming up with super logical plans while we were raining into Staten Island? You know how that place drains your smarts away.”

That got a laugh out of Leo, at least, a half hiccupped one, and he shifted a little closer. He didn’t relax; Mikey could feel the tension practically vibrating through him, and he knew what was coming. He could probably cut to the chase now and sum it up for Leo in points so he didn’t have to.

He waited. It was better that way.

“I just...didn’t.” Leo said finally. “Didn’t—want to go through that. You know, I wasn’t being heroic or a martyr or whatever, I was being a coward, okay? Because Casey told me everyone died in the future—everyone—and I thought: if we lose here, I’m gonna have to live that future. You know, twenty years in a war we’re gonna lose so slowly, watching everyone die one by one until I’m the only one left, and I was terrified and I can’t—I can’t, Mikey, if it’s a choice between me and literally everyone else, you can’t ask me to watch everyone die—”

And his voice cracked and Leo shut up, and Mikey carefully shuffled up onto his knees and curled his arms around his brother’s neck and held on. Leo planted his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck, shoulders trembling.

But when he spoke, his voice was small, but very dry. “This is gonna be real painful in about thirty seconds, just warning—”

“Then shut the hell up and get back on the bed, idiot.”

Leo sniffled, voice even tinier. “Yes, Dr Therapist, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Don’t tell the others?”

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“’kay. Good.”

Leo turned away, shuffling back onto the bed to collapse onto the pillows. Mikey hovered, not really sure what to do next. Did he leave him alone? Give him space? He’d normally just drape himself on Leo’s shell, but that wasn’t exactly a good idea, so--

The question was answered for him when Leo waved a hand in his general direction, looking for a limb to grab, and Mikey helpfully gave him an arm-- and was yanked down beside his brother who curled around him like he was a teddy bear, hiding his face again. Mikey wheezed, a faint mix of relief and amusement. “Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this—”

“Shh,” Leo said, muffled and sodden-sounding. “Therapy’s over.”

The face against his neck was wet. Mikey held still for a moment, swallowing against his own tears, and then gave a small sigh, putting a hand on Leo’s head.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess it is.”

---------

They lay there for a while. Mikey was perfectly content to be used as a teddy bear and kept his mouth shut, letting Leo get it out of his system, running his thumb over the ridges of the blue mask as his brother shook apart so quietly. As if he were ashamed of letting go. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was crying on his little brother. Mikey supposed that was breaking some kind of sibling hierarchy or some shit. Whatever.

He hadn’t really meant for the afternoon to go this way—it was kind of the opposite of a morale boost—but if this was the weight that his brother had been carrying around, better to deal with it now. Especially when nobody else was around to overhear.

(...he wasn’t really sure the others shouldn’t know about this. But unless it became an issue, for now, he’d do as Leo asked.)

“You’re not a coward, you know,” he said, much later. He doubted it was hours. He’d only heard Barry’s clock once. But Leo had stopped his ninja stealth crying into the crook of Mikey’s neck, so it was time.

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

“Don’t mmm ’kay me.” Mikey poked him. “I’m serious. I mean, what do you think a hero’s motivations are, anyway? They’re not doing it for the sake of looking all fancy for the camera. Or if they are, they’re not really a hero. They’re like-- that guy from Megamind, what’shisface, the Nice Guy—”

“Hal Stewart.”

“Exactly. And they don’t run around thinking, like—” He let go of Leo for a moment to air quote, even though Leo hadn’t resurfaced, not really. “’Egads, what is the most noble thing I can do at this exact point in time?’ Real heroes aren’t like… comic book heroes.”

Leo huffed a little against him. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally vulnerable right now or I’d have to throw hands.”

Mikey grinned. There he was. “Better keep you emotionally vulnerable then.”

“A supervillain move if I ever heard one.”

“That’s me, baby! I’m so lucky I have all these moral brothers to guide me to the side of the light.”

“Plus Donnie.”

“Oh yeah, plus that guy. I guess.”

This time, the huff sounded more like a laugh. Mikey snuggled in closer, gave him a moment to relax, and then made his next point, as softly as he could.

“Why do you think Raph protected you?”

He felt the jolt go through Leo at that—felt a little guilty, it was kind of an ambush—but his brother was only rigid against him for a moment before relaxing again by degrees, and Mikey was relieved. Leo’s brain was online. And when Leo answered, he sounded more confused than upset.

“Because he’s a big brother? Because he saw me screw up and he didn’t want me getting hurt?”

“Mhm, mhm. Scared for you, right? Would rather take the fall than watch you get skewered?”

“...yeah.”

Oh, the guilt laden into that word. He couldn’t do much about that, except maybe push him and Raph together to talk it out at some point. “I see. So Raph’s a coward?”

“Wait, what?” Leo pulled back to stare at him in affront, eyes swollen and mask damp and not bothering to hide it in the least. “Raph’s the bravest one here, why would you—”

“My, my. Would you look at those double standards.” Mikey tsked at him, and waited for the penny to drop. And Leo was just as smart as Donnie, in his own way; it took him a bare second to frown and lean back, squinting at him, mouth half open like he was trying and failing to come up with an argument. “It’s not cowardly to protect the people you care about. It’s, like, the opposite. You did it in a really reckless way and yeah, maybe there was a better way, but if anyone tries to accuse you of cowardice, I’m gonna throw hands. That includes you, bee tee dubs.”

Leo blinked, and Mikey could practically see the calculation flashing across his expression. He wasn’t surprised when Leo all-out pouted at him. “Oh, I see how it is. Picking on an injured turtle when he’s down.”

Mikey gave him a flat look that said I know what you’re doing.

Leo’s pout turned into a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll keep any such thoughts of cowardice to myself then, wallow in them when your back is turned—”

Mikey swatted at him with a glare. “You won’t think them at all! Leonardo—” And paused as Leo’s smile sharpened into a grin, his reddened eyes bright with genuine humour. “Ohhh, someone’s feeling better! Good.” He smiled sweetly back, then pushed Leo’s face away from him with a hand. “But for serious, you might be kinda dumb sometimes, but you are like. The bravest coolest brother—”

“Mmm, I still think Raph is the bravest. I humbly accept coolest, though.”

“I’ll allow it.” He watched Leo another moment, then pulled away to scramble carefully over him for the bedside table, reasonably sure the crisis was over. “You still up to painting?”

There was a pause. Leo’s face screwed up hesitantly. “...you sure? I mean, not because of your hands, but—”

“We still got time.” He flipped a paintbrush up and deftly spun it between his fingers, giving Leo a pointed look. “And I hate not finishing an art piece once I start.”

“Have we started, though?” Leo said mildly. But he was already obediently shuffling back onto his stomach, propping the pillows up beneath his elbows.

“Therapy is art.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct.”

“I’m the one with the doctorates, shush now.”

“But you’re—”

“Uh-buh-buh-buh—” Mikey settled by Leo’s side, bonking his head gently with his brush. And time for one last ambush question. “Leo. If we’d still been up there with you at the end, do you think it might have gone differently?”

To his great relief, Leo didn’t even flinch at that one—he merely tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. Mikey gave him time, fishing through his bottles until he could find the right colours to make the mix he wanted.

If he was holding his breath a little, well… that wasn’t important. Turtles could hold their breath for a very long time.

“Hard to say,” Leo said softly. “But I’d like to think so. I mean, I could barely get him through the portal on my own. But the four of us definitely had him off balance for a while there, right? If we were all still up there… I mean. Let’s face it. We’re so much stronger together.”

Mikey sighed with relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Leo about the death wish thing, but hearing it summed up like that made him feel a lot better. Especially when Leo frowned and twisted to catch his eye. “You better not feel guilty about that part, by the way.”

“Guilty? Nah.” He did a little, but Mikey also knew they’d done their best. “Bad that you got left on your own, yeah. We’re a team! It was hard...you know.” He smiled a little weakly. “Not being up there with you.”

“It was hard watching you fall.” Leo relaxed, letting his head drop onto the pillows. “Don’t tell him, but I was so glad when Raph got on the line, even if he was mad at me. It meant you guys had all got down safely.”

“He wasn’t mad,” Mikey pointed out.

“...I know. Bad choice of words.” Leo took a breath, sighed it out, sounding sleepy. “Scared.”

“Scary day.”

“Tell me about it. Wait, on second thought, don’t.” Leo waved a hand at him, not looking up. “Better idea. Tell me what you’re gonna paint instead.”

Yeah, time to change subject. Mikey hummed thoughtfully at him, leaning down off the bed to collect his tray. “I’m thinking… flowers.”

“Flowers, huh.”

“Yeah.” He traced dark edges of Leo’s repaired shell with the very tip of his brush, watching his brother carefully to see if it bothered him. When Leo didn’t move, he shifted back to mix paints. “They’ll be great at masking the damage, and if I have to stop for any reason, it won’t look weird. I’m thinking, hmm… marigolds, petunias… what’s a good red flower that isn’t a rose…”

Was that too pointed a comment? Probably. He grinned, counting the seconds until Leo lifted his head again, shifting to squint at him with suspicion.

“...red, orange, and purple?”

“Yeah,” he said innocently. “Great colour combo, don’t you think?”

“I feel you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Of course I am, dummy.” Mikey smiled at him. The sweetest, most sunshine smile he had at his disposal. “It’s a reminder that we’ve always got your back, no matter what.”

Leo stared back at him with an expression that was—just for a moment, probably against his will—fragile.

Then he turned sharply back away to stare at the wall, giving a snort. “More like you’re always on my back, you mush-dispenser.”

Mikey bit back his laugh at that. Leo could have that one; let him save some face, just this once. “It’s not too late for a dragon’s ass, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Barry could be riding on it!”

“Mikey—”

“And throwing you off it to your doom—”

“Oh my god, that’s low, you monster—”

“Actually I think it’s high, it wouldn’t be much of a doom otherwise, c’mon, Leo, keep up.”

“I’m gonna duct tape you inside your shell and play you like bongos for a week straight.”

“Looking forward to it! I’ll mark my calendar!” But Leo was shaking with laughter now. Mikey tapped the end of the brush on his shell in warning, and Leo obligingly tried to keep still, switching to a yawn instead. “I would never, don’t worry. Tired?”

“A little.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”

“...kay.” Leo snuggled into the pillows without arguing, and his next words were heavily muffled and more a tired mumble than anything else. “Lvvyou.”

Mikey paused. Then smiled a little, putting a hand on his shell for a moment. “Lvvyou too, bro.”

“Oh, shush.”

He cackled at that, but said nothing, listening to Leo’s breaths even out.

He knew Leo pretty well—enough to wonder how much Leo still hadn’t told him, diverting with jokes and sassy comments about wallowing in cowardice. But this was a start. And a relief. If nothing else, Leo had been genuine about his motivations, both at the warehouse and at the portal. Terror and love, nothing more, nothing less. Mikey flexed his hands out, testing them one last time, looking at the fading welts still criss-crossing up his arms.

He could relate.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #no rest for the weary #(adjacent)#nekotsuki #this fought me tooth and nail #and was initially longer until I ran screaming at it with a hacksaw #I hope it's okay <3

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shouyuus · 15 days ago

Text

to kiss the sun

violet; 5,574 words; fluff and smut, no "y/n", wlw, tribbing, oral (r!receiving), face-riding, fingering (both receiving), switch!vi supremacy, service top!vi, p0rn with feelings (many MANY feelings), morning after vibes, gratuitously fluffy sex, popstar!reader x vi au

summary: the morning after vi shows up at your penthouse, you make good on your promise to show vi a few things you picked up at the brothel; sequel to counting stars

a/n: i didn't know writing smut could make me so soft. vi is needy and we must do our duty to give her everything she wants. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

─── Ⅵ SHE'S SO USED TO WAKING UP alone that for a second, the empty bed doesn’t feel unfamiliar. and then — flashes of the night before flicker like frames of a still-remembered dream behind her eyelids — your steady, delicate hands, the trickle of bath water like piano music against her skin, the gently perfumed mist that had hung in her chest for hours after that bath had ended.

your lips, her tongue, the promise of a morning just far away enough to forget.

vi shoots up, blinking sleep from her eyes. all her muscles feel sore, but there’s a warmth pulsing beneath her skin that she hasn’t felt in… years. her limbs are heavy, thick still with the honeyed dregs of dreams but the space next to her on the oceanic bed is vast, and the only sign that you’d been there the slightest ruffle of your silken sheets.

she wraps her arms around herself, her mind still swimming with memories of last night, even as a frown creases her forehead.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere. promise.” that was what you’d said — and yet.

a hard-lined prickle works up the back of her throat and vi slumps back to bury her face in a large, fluffy pillow, letting out a groan. she feels like a child, petulant and wanting. but it doesn’t stem the clench in her stomach, the old, viperous voice in the back of her head that whispers —

see? everyone leaves you. always.

and then, from somewhere beyond the closed bedroom door, she hears… singing. and she’s tumbling out of bed before she can stop herself, her toes curling into the soft pashmina carpet, her fingers cold against the doorknob as she pushes through.

she finds you in the open kitchen, your back to her as you prod at something on the stove. the delicious smell of cooking meat hits her nose and immediately makes her mouth water. but she’s held still by the sight — you still wearing the large nightshirt from last night, your pink lace robe slipping off your shoulder as you sway back and forth on your tiptoes.

the lemon-yellow light spilling through your massive windows gilds you in morning-glory gold.

vi lets out a breath she doesn’t remember holding and pads her way towards you, looping both arms around your middle and burying her face in your neck.

“oh!” you gasp, turning slightly, your eyes wide, “i didn’t hear you —”

“i thought —” vi’s voice is cracked and gravely from sleep; she clears her throat and takes a breath, “you weren’t in bed when i woke up so —”

you let out a sound like a tiny laugh, setting down the spatula in your hand as you twist around in her arms. behind you, three fat sausages and a few eggs are cooking on a large flat pan.

“i didn’t wanna wake you up,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips, “you looked like you were sleeping so well.”

vi sighs, trailing a knuckle along your cheek, even as she tugs you back for a longer kiss, a deeper kiss. one that has you gasping against her.

you giggle as she pulls away, a bit breathless. “and… you were snoring up a storm so —”

vi leans down to bite at your neck, fingers fisting in your hair to tug your head back for more access.

“i don’t snore.”

“wanna bet?”

vi pulls back with a crooked grin before her eyes flicker back to the pan. she swallows.

you turn, reaching for the spatula again.

“how do you like your eggs?”

“uh… not raw?”

you roll your eyes, bumping her with your hip even as she settles herself against your back, her chin resting on your shoulder again.

“i like mine over-easy, but i can make them scrambled too, if you want.” you scoot the sausages towards the side and flip over one of the bubbling eggs, the sizzle of the oil making vi’s stomach grumble loudly behind you.

“i’ve…” vi pauses, ghosting her lips over your shoulder, “no one’s ever really asked me that before so… i don’t… i don’t know.”

your hand pauses as you shuffle the sausages around the edges of the pan. and then —

“okay, then i’ll make one of each, and you can try both! then maybe tomorrow, i can poach a few — those are the really good ones where the yolk is all runny —”

“hey.”

vi twists your chin towards her; the kiss is sweet, but you can taste the fluttering desperation beneath her tongue, as if she’s searching for something within the warm caverns of your mouth, and that if she can just kiss you hard enough or long enough, she might just find it. when she pulls away this time, there’s something flickering in the pre-dawn blue of her eyes.

“vi?”

she shakes her head, her gaze skating along the contours of your face as if you were a painting she’d been trying to memorize.

“i just —” she swallows again, “this… all just feels too good to be true — like… like the whole thing’s a dream and i’m gonna wake up one day alone and —”

you smile as you press a hand to her cheek. “hey, hey — none of that now. the eggs are gonna overcook —” you turn back around to tend to breakfast, even as vi groans and digs her face into the nape of your neck, her fingers biting into the plush of your hips.

“and, it’s not a dream. but even if it were, what makes you think i wouldn’t just find you again after we both wake up?”

vi frowns as she lifts her head, watching as you plate the sausages and eggs, lifting up onto tip toe for the salt and pepper shakers on the shelf. she grins, loosening her arms ever so slightly to let you grab them before she’s pulling you into her again and you’re laughing in her arms.

“ugh. i’m never gonna win with you, huh princess?”

“nope — now help me carry this to the bedroom. i’m gonna pour us some drinks.”

vi watches in muted fascination as you lay out a breakfast tray on your pristine sheets and slot two bubbling glasses of what she’s sure is champagne into the carved out glass holders, and then motions for her to put down the large plate of food. she does, her expression both reverent and amused as you flop down onto the bed and tug the blankets up around your lap, patting the spot next to you.

“c’mon — before it goes cold!”

she slips beneath the covers again, crossing her legs as she watches you reach for your glass, the liquid inside shimmering with pale gold bubbles.

“bon appetit!” you say, grinning at her as you reach for a sausage with your hands. vi’s eyebrows hike up as you bring it to your lips, taking a bite, moaning around it as hot oil slicks down the side of your hand and you lean down to lick it back, the pink flash of your tongue making her stomach twist with an entirely different kind of hunger.

but, she decides, one indulgence at a time — and reaches for a sausage of her own, foregoing the knife and fork just as you had.

it’s delicious, sweet and salty, the fat bursting in her mouth making her shiver as she swallows. she’s never had anything so delicious, anything so truly indulgent. she scarfs down one sausage, and then reaches for another, pausing only to glance up at you. she finds you watching her with a smile and a sparkle in your eyes that looks so dangerously like love it makes her gut clench.

how long has it been since someone’s looked at her like that? like she was beautiful, like she was —

“someone worth looking at?” your words from the night before echos in her ears as she takes the second sausage with a sheepish grin, licking her lips of the oil.

“i can make more if you want,” you say, leaning back and sipping at your drink, “there’s plenty in the fridge, and i’ll make as many as you want.”

vi shakes her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “no, this is —” she reaches for her own glass, gulping down half in a single swig, coughing as the bubbles fizzle up her throat, “this is good —”

by the time she finishes the second sausage, you’re splitting the eggs with a knife and fork, your movement precise, as if she hadn’t just watched you lick sausage fat from your own wrist.

“here, try the eggs. this is the over easy, and this —” you push two piles of eggs towards her, one bleeding yellow yolk over the fine white china, the other a pile of fluffy sun-colored scramble, topped off with flecks of black pepper and large flakes of white seasalt.

vi scoops up one, moaning around the runny yolk, before shoveling a bite of the scrambled egg into her mouth.

“holy shit — i mean, they’re both really good —” she leans down to scrape up some more, licking the fork clean with a happy little hum.

“is there one you like better?” you ask, and vi looks up, a final bite of egg poised halfway to her mouth. she grins as she sets down her fork and pushes the breakfast tray gently out of the way, tugging you towards her.

“yeah well, sure but… ‘s not like i can focus on that when you’re sitting right there looking like breakfast, lunch, and dinner —” she grazes her lips along the length of your neck, nuzzling into the soft spot right behind your ear, breathing you in like a woman lost. and she is — isn’t she? lost in this paradise you’ve built for her, lost in the feeling of you, the irrefutable knowledge that you’re here, and that you’re here to stay.

“y-you seemed pretty focused c-cleaning that plate just a second ago — o-oh —!”

you gasp as she pins you beneath her, your leg knocking against the breakfast tray, her mouth hot along your collarbone.

“v-vi — the china —”

“mm — fuck — fine —” she pulls away from you, keeping you pinned beneath her with her thighs, thick and strong, clamped on either side of your hips as she twists around to set the breakfast tray on the floor before turning back with a smirk. “there. happy now, princess?”

you nod, smiling up at her as she returns to her single-minded task of kissing your throat, sighing against your skin as she tugs your robe from your shoulders and inches her fingers beneath the hem of your nightshirt.

“c’mon princess — didn’t you promise me you were gonna show me all the other things you learned at the brothel, hm?”

you gasp as she tugs your nightshirt up off your torso, leaving you in nothing but your lacy pink panties, your cheeks flushed, your nipples pebbling in the sudden chill.

“mm… never gets old…” vi says, reaching down to tweak at one of them, grinning as you whine.

“vi… vi, please —” you reach out for her, fingers gentle against her tensing stomach as she groans and leans down to kiss you. but before she can, the world flips and she’s hissing out a breath, blinking in confusion as you rock your hips, sitting astride her now, one palm laid flat against her sternum, the other cupping her cheek.

vi stares up at you, her eyes wide but you can see the way her pupils dilate, her gaze going hungry.

you offer her a tiny, knife-flash grin, trailing your thumb along her skin till it grazes her bottom lip.

“there… that’s one trick they taught me… would you like to see some others?”

vi moans, her head rolling back as you rock your hips down over hers again, her hands shooting up to grasp at your waist, her eyes fluttering shut.

“holy fuck, yeah —” she helps ruck your hips down, fingers digging into your flesh as you reach down to gently tug her chin back down, whispering against her lips —

“eyes on me, violet…”

her eyes flicker open, a soft whimper curling up her throat as you shift your hips down and your clothed cores meet through the layers of fabric.

“want you to watch me when i’m making you feel good.”

“sweet jesus…” vi breathes, her brows furrowing ever so slightly as you reach down to inch her shirt up as well, tilting your head slightly as you wait for her to lift her hands. you toss the shirt off the other side of the bed, breathing out as you feast your eyes on the sight of her, splayed out beneath you, a classical artist’s dream of solid muscle and ink-kissed skin.

“you know, they used to carve statues to immortalize bodies like yours…” you say, pressing a line of unhurried kisses to her shoulder, trailing across her collarbones, down the divot of her breasts, pausing over each nipple, laving your tongue over the tiny metal rings there, warming them on your tongue before popping off and making your patient way down the length of her torso. you trace the shape of her stomach muscles with the tip of your tongue, graze your teeth against the delicate skin right above the waistband of her shorts, eyes always cast up at her face, watching for the minute reactions that she’s always been so generous to give.

“eyes, violet,” you remind her gently as you suck a hickey over her hipbone and her entire pelvis jerks up towards you. she huffs out a breath, forcing her eyes open to look down at you, a pout threatening her mouth even as she chews on her bottom lip.

“shit princess — you can’t — i — it feels too good, i —”

“i know,” you shush, holding her gaze as you shift to slip the shorts from her legs, discarding them over your shoulder with a cock of your head like a curious little bird, looking her over with bright eyes.

“but i’ll stop if you look away again, okay?” you chide, grazing a thumb along her already slickened folds, circling her clit once just to see the way her jaw drops open, her eyes rolling back. you pull your hand away and she jerks up, a hand shooting out to grab your arm.

“sweet fuck, mm — c’mere —”

you hitch an eyebrow, watching her as she tugs you towards her, melding her mouth with yours, the self-same desperation you’d tasted earlier blossoming behind the tombstones of her teeth like words she’s never had the courage to say aloud. all her needs, all her wants, pressed there like flowers between the pages of her story, and you — leaning in, opening your mouth, kissing her back like you’d love nothing more than to see them, to read them, to listen, to learn.

you let her kiss you, and you let yourself be kissed. you let her pour herself into you with her fingers in your hair, and your hands soft against her neck, running soothing circles into the pulse beneath her jaw. when she finally pulls back, your lips are wet, her chest is heaving. there’s a strange, fractured light in her eyes as she presses her forehead against yours and breathes out, long and deep.

“you okay?” you ask.

“mm. yeah… i just…” she sucks in another breath, “i — uh — i’m not the best with patience —”

you laugh, “you don’t say.”

she chuckles, allowing herself to be pressed back into the sheets. you shift your legs, hooking one of her over one of yours, shifting till your clothed cunt presses against her bare one. she hisses, her head tipping back. a second later, you roll your hips down, the friction making the coil in your stomach knot over itself, but your eyes are still fixed on vi, on the trembling expression painted across her features.

“violet… c’mon, eyes…” is all you say, your voice patient hush as you slowly work yourself against her.

she lets out a pitched whine, but she forces her eyes back onto you, the gentle curve of your body as you grind your pussy to hers. she bites her lips at the wetness she can feel collecting there — hers and yours, the way you don’t hide your pleasure from her, the little hitches in your breaths, the pink flush of color washing into your cheeks, even as you swirl your hips, your eyes never wavering from her face as her mouth falls open around a moan.

“shit — god, that’s —”

“good?” you ask, leaning over her, your hair a liquid spill across your shoulders.

she nods, her mind too blissed out to really speak as you reach down to tweak at one of her nipples, tugging lightly on the ring, your other hand splayed out on her stomach, keeping you steady.

“y-yeah — really — really fuckin’ good —” she says, nearly keening as you pull back to tug your panties from you, the sight of your wetness gleaming on the lace making her skin prickle with heat. she lets you wrap your hand around one of her wrists, pulling it up towards you, brushing your lips over her knuckles before pressing two of her fingers into your mouth.

you moan around them, even as she bites her lips, her eyes half-hooded, but she heeds your earlier warnings and doesn’t look away, doesn’t let them drop shut even as you pull her fingers from your lips with a soft pop and bring them to where your still slowly grinding against her.

“show me what makes you feel good.”

“n-ngh — fuck fuck fuck —” vi chants, canting her hips up to meet yours, even as you cup one of her hipbones in your palm to steady her, watching as she presses her fingers to her clit and draws them in small, quick circles, her thumb flicking up to graze against yours.

your hips stutter and you let out a gasp, the heat in your abdomen solid and familiar.

“look so good, princess — mm —” a tiny frown creases her forehead as she quickens her pace, but you tug her fingers away, swallowing her momentary whine with a kiss, replacing her fingers with your own. you mirror her movements, relishing in the way she works her hips up against you, her movements threaded with urgency, her tongue pressing into your mouth as you slip your fingers down the seam of her cunt to dip inside her.

immediately, she keens, jerking you down as her hips ruck up.

“mm… we’re making a mess,” you say, your voice almost teasing as you pull back to smile at her, your fingers still teasing her sodden folds, “but that’s okay — i was going to do the laundry today anyway.”

you dip down, sucking gently at the skin of her neck, slowly fucking two fingers into her, feeling her clamp down around you, her head tossing back into the pillows as you sit back up and cluck your tongue, fingers slowing ever so slightly.

she peers up at you, her gaze hazy and unfocused, her lashes fluttering.

“there’s those pretty eyes,” you say with a grin, before pushing a third finger into her and curling them up.

“f-fuck!”

you press your palm against her clit, working your fingers inside her till she’s scrabbling at your arm, pulling you down roughly to mouth at your lips, whimpering and panting, her breath fanning hot as she holds you to her by the back of your neck.

“fuck, sweetness — i’m gonna — i’m gonna cum —”

you allow yourself a soft moan, nodding, quickening your pace as you dig the fingers of your free hand into her hip, a dull ache building between your own thighs as you watch vi’s lashes flutter.

“good,” you breath, “cum for me, vi — lemme see you cum for me —”

“oh — oh fuck — princess, i — a*-ah — ah — ah!*”

you fuck her slowly through her orgasm, kissing her slow and languid, swallowing around her whimpers and moans, her hips kicking as you tease your thumb over her oversensitive clit.

“holy shit…” she laughs, letting her head thump back into the pillows as you pull your fingers from her and lick them clean. “that was —” she licks her lips, swallowing thickly.

“the girls at the brothel taught me well,” you say, giggling when she tugs you into her arms, nosing against your cheek.

“they sure did but —” her fingers trail down the length of your body to cup your cunt, “i wanna make you feel good too, pretty girl.”

your breath hitches; your lashes flicker.

“mm… so damn wet, and all for me…” she says, tugging you over her shoulders, spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, groaning at the sight of your slick folds.

“c-can you blame me?” you ask, gasping as she pulls you down over her mouth, her fingers caged around your thighs. you let out a soft whimper as you feel her lick a long strip over your cunt, her nose nudging your clit as she moans into you. “o*-oh —*” you squeak as her tongue pushes into you, and you feel her rocking you down, pressing you against her so hard you’re afraid she might suffocate.

you steady yourself against the wall, reaching down to card your fingers through her hair, the color still darker than it used to be, the roots still inked in black.

vi’s cocks an eyebrow up at you from between your legs, and you can almost feel her smirk before you feel her wrap her lips around your clit to give it a hard suck. you yelp, hips jumping even as she yanks you back against her, fucking her tongue into you so hard your stomach clenches with the pleasure.

“oh — oh — ngh — violet —”

“th-that’s it, princess — so hot riding my face — mm — mmph —”

you rock your hips over her mouth, the bright tingle of heat circling through you, coiling tighter and tighter as she eats you out with a wolfish hunger, groaning into your folds as your pace goes jerky and the pin-prick of pleasure stretches inside you, ballooning out till you’re clenching over her face, fluttering around her tongue as she licks eagerly at your wetness, pooling out of you onto her chin and cheeks.

“fuck, you taste — taste good —” she mumbles, lips chasing your cunt even as you try to lift yourself up, her arms flexing as she pulls you back down.

“w-wait — vi — it’s too — too much —”

you squeak as she sits up, flipping the pair of you to finally pin you beneath her, a lopsided grin on her face, a dark, dangerous look in her eyes as she wipes her lips on the back of her hand.

“yeah? but, i’m still hungry, princess —” she wastes no time in prying apart your legs, swearing under her breath as she sees your pussy fluttering around nothing, her fingers shoving into you a second later, “and i mean — i haven’t been trained at a brothel but — been to babette’s enough times to know a thing or two —”

her smirk is sharp, even though her eyes are soft as she watches you writhe beneath her, the remnants of her orgasm still warm in her veins. a furious, ticking urge is pressing up the back of her throat as she fucks you open on her fingers, a savage want blooming inside her chest.

she wants to see you fall apart for her, over and over and over again, wants to make you scream till your voice gives out, wants to swallow around all your pretty little noises — she wants, she wants, she wants —

and then, a softer, deeper desire creeping up, up through her ribs to pool at the base of her tongue, slick as poison —

she wants you to do the same to her, just as you’ve already done.

the want is so huge it terrifies her, makes her chest squeeze even as she leans down to kiss you again, reveling in the taste of her own name on your tongue, dripping from the corners of your mouth like a hymn or a prayer.

it’s a want so vast it won’t fit behind her ribs — that she wants you. in every single way it’s possible to want a person.

and, she wants you to want her too.

“fuck, princess —” she grits out, pulling away just far enough to watch the pleasure crease your forehead, “you want it? tell me — tell me what you want —”

you’re breathless, exhalant, your fingers curling in her hair as you jerk up against her.

“w-want — want this — want you — violet — vi — vi —!”

she groans at the way you say her name, letting her head drop into you shoulder for a second before she curls her fingers and fucks them into you so hard she feels her forearms strain.

“yeah? tell me again, pretty girl —” she lifts her head to find your eyes, and for a split second, she sees herself as you might — disheveled and wild-eyed but the softness of her features is unmistakable, the way her lips are parted, her brows furrowed as she watches you.

your eyes find hers, and your breath is trembling when you say, in a voice that’s so much sweeter than the harshness of her movements, than the toe-curling sound of your wetness as it squelches around her hand, your slick dripping down her wrist and onto the sheets.

“i — i want you, violet — a-all of you — please —”

“fuck, cum for me princess — i — i want — i need to see you cum for me — please, god —”

there’s a whine high in her voice even as you spasm around her, the feeling of your cunt milking at her fingers making her shiver. her movements slow as time itself seems to unspool around you both, your bodies so much more than the sums of their parts — so much skin and breath, so much honey and rest.

you laugh, an indulgent, tickling sound, bubbling up from you as you breathe, running your fingers through her hair as she slowly tugs her fingers from you.

“shit… you came a lot,” she says, laughing with you as you nod and reach for a tissue on the bedside table and hand it to her. she wipes at her hands first, and then her face. and then, she leans off the bed to grab the plate with the leftover eggs, shoveling them into her mouth.

you lay there, watching her with a bitten-back smile. she pauses as she catches your eye.

“sorry — oops —” a bit of scrambled egg nearly tumbles out of her mouth. she licks it back and swallows, setting the plate back down to collapse next to you. “just… didn’t wanna waste it, y’know?”

you giggle, curling onto your side and resting a hand on her chest, flicking at one of her nipple rings.

“hey. quit that.”

you grin, shifting your hand down to rest against her stomach. she reaches up to cover your hand with hers, your fingers lacing easily as she turns to face you.

“still hungry?”

vi smiles, shifting closer to you on the sheets, the pair of you lying face to face, bodies curled in towards one another like mirrored images.

“nah. think i’m good now. that was a good breakfast.”

you laugh, walking your fingers along the bend of her waist, pulling yourself forward till you’re nuzzling into her collarbone. she opens her arms and loops them around you.

“yeah? good. so, have we got a verdict on the eggs?”

vi hums, considering.

“i like the scrambled ones. but… i thought you said you were gonna make something else for breakfast tomorrow?”

she hooks an ankle over yours and you shift against her, softening into her chest.

“yeah, ‘m planning on making a few soft boiled ones, and a few poached ones. they’re kind of similar, but also super different.”

“yeah? how so?”

her fingers trace soft circles into the bare skin of your back; yours trail absently over the dark lines of her tattoo, outlining the cogs and wheels and puffs of tinted clouds.

you try your best to explain the differences between a soft boiled egg and a poached egg, and it ends with the pair of you laughing, vi shaking her head even as she edges closer to you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“i could listen to you talk all day, princess.”

you crinkle your nose, “careful what you wish for.”

“mm,” vi hums, leaning in till your foreheads touch and her eyes flutter shut again, “thanks, though.”

“hm? for what?”

she breathes in, then out.

“for… all this. for breakfast, for��” she lets her voice trail off as her eyes blink open to find you watching her.

“you don’t need to thank me,” you say, inching ever closer, so close now that she can feel the heat of your words over her skin as you speak them, “i meant what i said last night — whatever’s mine is yours and…” you reach up to cup her cheek, “that i want all this because… i want you.”

vi closes her eyes, squeezing them shut as that soft tendril of desire once against pushes up against the back of her throat. she makes a sound caught between a sigh and whine, pulling you into her, wrapping both arms around you and burying her face in your hair.

“gods… you drive me insane.”

you chuckle against her collarbone, blowing an errant strand of pink hair from your mouth.

“if it’ll make you stay with me then…” your voice is slightly muffled, but vi hears it all the same, feels the rumble of it from your chest to hers, the honesty in them shaking her to the core.

she squeezes you once, long and hard, before letting you go.

“careful what you wish for,” she says, echoing your words back at you.

you smile, a simple thing, leaning up to brush your lips to hers. it’s a soft kiss, one that’s devoid of the pulsing, urgent want of your kisses prior, but for some reason, this one lingers like a prickle on the tongue, champagne bubbles as they filter down your throat, fizzling warmth through both your chests even after you pull away.

“didn’t i already tell you?” you say, bumping your nose to hers, “i’ve been praying for this since the day we met.”

vi lets out a small laugh, nodding, “yeah… you did, huh.”

you tangle your fingers in the long hairs skimming down her back.

“you don’t have enforcer stuff you need to report in for?”

vi groans, rolling her eyes, “i mean… i probably do but…”

you shake your head, “give them a call, ask for a few days off.”

vi’s eyebrows hitch at your words, “and… what do i tell them?”

“that you’re taking a few days off — call it a vacation if you want.”

“huh,” but her lips are already tugging into a knowing smirk, “and what do you propose we do on this so-called vacation of mine, hm?”

you shrug, giggling as she leans down to nip at your collarbones.

“mmm… how does staying here, sleeping in, and eating through my favorite recipes sound?”

vi pulls back, her expression flickering through several channels before settling on a mix of cautious and hopeful.

“are… you sure? you — you don’t have like… famous-person stuff you have to do?”

you laugh, “nope! not for a week at least. and… i’ve got a few really good bottles of wine in the cellar i’ve been meaning to try.”

“the cellar?”

you grin, “go make the call.”

vi pushes herself up, carding a hand through her hair and rubbing at her temples. but she glances back at you, her fingers still linked with yours. you glance down at your hands before giving her a squeeze.

“go on, i’ll still be here when you get back. i promise.”

vi leans back down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“promise?” she asks.

you nod, leaning up to kiss her properly, pulling away only when she tries to push you back into the mattress. you shoot her an exasperated look as she tugs on a shirt and nearly trips over the breakfast tray, glancing back at you from the bedroom door.

“go. i’ll be here,” you say again. and vi gives you one last lingering look before slipping through the door, leaving it swinging behind her.

a few seconds later, you hear her voice as she says —

“uh hey, it’s me. can you connect me to the warden?”

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