#I’M RUNNING OUTTA TAGS BUT IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE BEHIND THE STAGE WORKS ON HOW I MADE THIS I CAN ALWAYS YAP TO YOU ABT IT 😈��🏾

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[collecting-stories]

Kid - Carl Grimes

This isn’t based on any request. Just based on the idea that Carl has a crush on a girl in the group who is a little older than him and he desperately wants her to take him seriously. 

Kid - Carl Grimes x reader

It was increasingly harder to tell time these days. Weeks, months, years passed and all you could really do was guess. Was it Wednesday, had the New Year started, was Ryan Seacrest still alive? Not all important questions but they served enough to keep you occupied. Things in your hometown had gone mad when the epidemic first started. Whenever that was. You had to be at least eighteen now right? Maybe nineteen? Who was to say. The last birthday you remembered was spent with a very special trip to Nashville, to see a Taylor Swift concert. Was she still alive?

Your mom had surprised you with tickets two days before your actual birthday and you’d been so excited you had cried and then you cried again watching Taylor on stage. To be fair you were turning 14 and it was a very emotional time for you. A week later and the dead were walking and your mom was evacuating the house.  

And then somehow, through means that you glossed over whenever asked about, you ended up in Georgia, in a prison with a group of survivors that quickly became your family. Taylor Swift and birthdays and your mom and time were all part of some old world, one you couldn’t return to. And while all the other parts of life that you didn’t like were also gone you still missed sleepovers with best friends and ‘girl’s nights’ with your mom. Being at the prison was okay, and while it wasn’t teeming with kids your age there were a few. Beth was nice enough and Patrick was funny albeit a little more naive than anyone else living in the post-apocalypse.  

And then there was Carl.  

Despite what others had lost you and Carl gravitated towards each other, kindred spirits as Michonne had said, comforted by the knowledge that neither of you were alone in losing a mother. And that both of you had experienced the trauma of having to be responsible for your mother’s death. Carl had shot Lori in the head before she could turn, overshadowing the joy of his sister’s birth with the death of his mom. You had killed your mother right after you crossed the state line. You knew because looming above you was a sign that said ‘Welcome to Georgia’. A small herd of walkers had come out of the woods and when you tried to get away one of them grabbed your mother. Unlike Carl, you didn’t shoot your mother in the head. You shot her arm to loosen her grip when she wouldn’t let you go and then you ran, listening to the sounds of her screaming while she was being eaten alive.  

“This life is all about hard choices.” Rick had offered when he and Daryl had found you on the road. They asked their three questions and you told them what had happened.  

“She was bitten, I would’ve died if she didn’t let go. I didn’t want to die.” You didn’t cry as you relayed the story. The girl who cried at stupid teen movies and pop songs had stopped existing while you were still in Tennessee. This girl didn’t cry at anything.  

After the prison you found your way to Glenn and Tara and eventually back with the whole group. The only kids who survived, made even more blatant by Beth dying in Atlanta, you and Carl seemed to draw closer to each other. The three years between the two of you had never really mattered, even at the prison and especially now as you travelled toward D.C. Eugene made a lot of claims, most of them untrue, but all of you were hoping that this would be the last time you had to pick up and leave.  

Though things hadn’t been smooth in Alexandria when you first arrived, and trouble seemed to follow your group the way it did all those old school tv detectives, you still managed to settle into a life here. There were more kids but you had somehow graduated from that moniker. You started hanging around Rosita and Tara more, helping Carol with Judith, watching the wall with Sasha or Daryl. And Carl, who was still more skilled than you by your own admission, was expected to fit in with the kids there. Ron and Enid and the others.  

“They don’t do anything, it’s like...they’re living in a bubble.” Carl had complained after the first couple nights there.  

“That’s cause they are.” You laughed.  

The two of you were sitting up in his room, trying to manage a game of war while Judith napped in her pack’n’play. It was the only card game either of you could remember and Carl mentioned that his mom had taught him how to play.

“Yeah but, I’m not. I don’t wanna sit around and play video games and pretend that doesn’t exist. They’ve never even been outside the walls, except Enid. I don’t get why she wastes her time with them.” Carl grumbled. For thinking he was above being a teenager he sounded an awful lot like one.

“Sounds like xbox isn’t the problem.” You laughed, glancing up from your cards to look at him.  

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re jealous.”

“I am not.”

“Come on kid, you totally are so. Remember when Beth dated...whatshisname? You were so moody. This is literally the same thing.” You replied, “Is Enid cute?”

“I’m not jealous and don’t call me kid.” He pulled away when you leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Would you stop it!”

“Okay, okay.”  

“I’m not jealous.” He huffed, catching the look on your face.  

While Carl’s attention was seemingly focused on Enid you were trying to prove yourself to his father, doing whatever you could to help both inside the walls and out. You weren’t sixteen like the other kids in Alexandria, you were old enough to help, to be given responsibilities. You had been out there and survived and that gave you a sort of authority in a place with most people, even the adults, had never ventured outside the walls. With you helping and Carl off running around the woods with Enid it was only natural that the two of you drifted apart. Gone were the days of confiding in each other. There were no more late-night stops into the other’s room to talk or just sit together. No doing chores with each other like you used to at the prison.  

You didn’t really spend time together again until the aftermath of the herd and the wolves. While Alexandria tried to repair it’s broken parts you offered to help Rick look after Judith, take responsibility away from Carl so that he could heal.  

“Come on, there are literal dead people walking the earth Carl, I think we’re passed high school bullshit. No one is gonna treat you different just cause you’re missing an eye.” You pointed out as you sat in the infirmary with him, changing the bandage on his eye.  

Carl was holding his fringe out of the way so you could see his face clearly as you applied ointment around the wound. Your face was close to his and he was studying you as you worked. Noting any small imperfections in your skin. It might be the apocalypse but that didn’t mean you weren’t victim to acne and there was a small rash of a breakout on your jaw that Carl thought was kind of adorable. Even though you were probably annoyed with it. “You don’t know that.”  

“If anything they probably think you’re like super cool.” You replied.  

“No one thinks that.”

“Wrong again, I definitely think that. I’m sure Enid does too kid.”

“Whatever.” Carl rolled his eyes. Enid was alright and he liked hanging out with her, if only because she had been outside the walls too. But she wasn’t you. All Carl wanted was to get your attention and it seemed like every time he did it backfired on him. You were oblivious to him, no matter how hard he tried to get you to notice. Instead you thought he was interested in Enid and egged him on about her constantly.  

He tried in the weeks that passed to get your attention. Rick started to trust him more and more with things around the safe zone. But still he felt like he couldn’t get your attention. And when he could it never changed. That annoying moniker of ‘kid’ that you adopted at the prison stuck every time you said anything to him. The tag at the end of a sentence that he wished he could cut off. It didn’t seem like there was a way to change your perspective until he stowed away on one of Negan’s trucks.  

You were at the house with Judith when he was delivered back to the compound. The moment you saw him in the front yard you ran outside, leaving the youngest Grimes in her pack’n’play. The force of you throwing your arms around him as you collided with him sent him stumbling back a step, holding your waist in shock. He had finally surpassed you in height over the summer and had a good two inches on you so he leaned his head down to press his forehead against your shoulder while you held the back of his head with one hand.

“Carl.” Rick called his son’s name and the two of you broke away from each other.  

You didn’t see him again until later that night when you went up to his room, a deck of cards in your hands though you had no intention of playing.  

“Hey, can I come in?” You asked, leaning against the open door frame.

Carl nodded.  

“You scared the shit outta me today Carl...I thought you for sure...” Your voice cracked and you paused to stop yourself from crying, “just cause you haven’t died yet doesn’t mean you can’t. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey, I don’t need you to lecture me too.” Carl replied, taking your admission of fear as scolding. “I’m sick of sitting here doing nothing. They killed Glenn and Abraham, they have Daryl! And we’re just giving them whatever they want.”

“Your dad knows what he’s doing.” You said, coming into the room and closing the door behind you so no one would hear you.  

“Oh yeah, Rick Grimes is so amazing. He knows exactly what to do all the time.” He replied sarcastically, glaring at you.

“I mean, Carl Grimes is pretty amazing too.” You joked, taking a seat on the bed.  

“I just wanted to do something.”

“I know. I was just...I was so scared Carl. We’ve lost so many people.”

“What’s another name on the wall?”  

“Hey! I made it this far because of you. Yeah, Rick and Daryl found me on the road but that would never have mattered if you hadn’t been at the prison. I survived because I had you.” You replied honestly, “you’re not just a name on a wall Carl...to anyone, Michonne, Carol, your dad, me especially.”

Carl leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours suddenly. Your eyes widened and just soon as he had kissed you he was pulling away, his own eyes wide as he stared at you in shock. “I should,” he stood up and rubbed his hands against his jeans anxiously before going to the door and opening it. “I should get some rest. Goodnight.”  

You nodded, your mind foggy as you stood up and walked to the door. You stopped in the doorway and Carl looked away, trying not to meet your eyes as you stood across from him. “Goodnight Carl.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

When he closes his door he realizes that for the first time in a long time you didn’t call him ‘kid’. And he can’t keep the smile off his face as he shuts his door and flops back down on the bed.  

_

I adore Carl and am still bitter over his death. He’s a gem and I’ll fight anyone who says he’s a bratty kid. (that's my bratty kid thank you very much). 

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon 

[that-one-bi-wizard]

Spath shippers come get your sustenance. This is from the role swap AU. Hope you enjoy :3

Oh and let me just tag @spathfan

“And let’s hear it for Kath Plumber and Brooklyn!”

Sean wasn’t quite sure he had that right. The leader of the most powerful borough was a girl?

Sean had heard about the leader of Brooklyn being the most powerful and most feared of all the Newsies. Even the infamous leader of the Manhattan Newsies seemed a little put off by just the mention on Plumber’s names.

They failed to mention that this intimidating leader was a girl… and, admittedly, a very pretty one at that.

“Newsies united!” She exclaimed. All the Newsies began clapping and cheering.

The girl named Kath walked out from the backstage of the theater. She walked with her head up and shoulders back. She had a fierce look in her eyes like she was ready to take on anyone and anything. Everything about her radiated confidence.

Fiery red hair flowed behind her as she strutted to the center of the stage. It fell just over her shoulders as she stopped. She spread her arms out, and everyone went silent.

She smiled. “Let’s see what Mr. Pulitzer’s gotta say to ya now, am I right boys?”

The boys began cheering again.

Sean stared down in astonishment from where he was sitting in the theater. For a split second, they locked eyes, and Sean felt his heart almost stop.

For someone who grew up on the streets and led the fiercest group of Newsies, she had a very pretty face. A little dirty with specks of dirt and ink-covered her face, but if anything, that just made her even prettier. At least to Sean.

She made her way to the side of the stage and the other Newsies started settling back into their normal selves. As soon as Kath left, the Newsies looked much more relaxed. Man… that was impressive, to say the least.

The Newsies Rally went on. And everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

It was Davey, the leader of the strike, came and messed everything up. He talked about disbanding the union, he and Jack almost got into a fight on stage, and he sold out to Pulitzer. Finally, everyone started rioting, and Davey ran off.

Sean figured he should’ve gone after him but noticed Jack run after him in the chaos of the crowd. Sean figured they’d be fine.

He exited Medda’s theater through the back and let out a sigh. None of that had gone as they planned.

“You good there, shorty?”

His head shot up at the voice. It was Kath. She was leaning against the brick wall of the theater. He moved one of her orange locks behind her ear. She had a small smile on her face.

Sean was at a loss of words. She was even prettier up close.

Kath raised an eyebrow. “You can talk, right?”

He finally managed to clear his throat. “Uh…yeah, I’m fine. How about you?”

She shrugged. “Eh, could be better. I’d be real great if that Jacobs didn’t, ya know, ruin the rally. I came all the way from Brooklyn for this! Ugh!” She crossed her arms.

Kath took in a deep breath. “Anyway, you know me. What about you, shorty? You got a name?”

Sean scoffed. “First of all, don’t call me that. I am not that short. Second, my name is Sean. Sean Pulitzer.”

Kath’s eyes widened. “Whoa, you mean like… Pulitzer? As in Pulitzer? Like the man we’s striking against?”

Sean nodded. “Yup, that Joseph Pulitzer.” He saw the look on her face. “Oh, but don’t worry! I’m helping you guys,” Spot said hurriedly.

She relaxed a little and let out a breath. “Heh… I hope so or else I’d have to soak ya.” A small smile appeared on her face. “Anyway, what’s a guy like you doin’ helpin’ us take down your pa?” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you get outta this?”

Sean shrugged. “A good news story, I guess? I’m trying to be a reporter, and this is my first story. And I’m helping because it’s Pulitzer… You really think my pa and I are close?”

She smiled. “Yup, that sounds about right. The old man’s gotta be taken down a peg is what I say.” She stood up straight and walked closer to Sean. “And you gettin’ a good story, Spotty?”

Sean felt his cheeks grow warm. “Excuse me?”

“Spotty. That’s what I’m gonna call ya ‘cause you're small. Ya know? Like a cute little dog that would be named Spot.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s it! Spot! I’m gonna call ya Spot.”

Sean would’ve argued but just left it at that. He felt his face burn when he realized what she had said. “Oh, okay,” was his only response.

She rested her elbow on his shoulder. “Anyway,” she said, “got that an article you were gonna write for this for this rally ‘cause… ya know? Everything that happened?”

Sean looked away. “I actually have something written already.” He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. “You see, the strike was Davey’s idea, the rally was Jack’s, and I figured this…” He unfolded the paper and handed it to her. “…would take us to the finish line. What do you think?”

Katherine read it. A smile appeared on her face. “With this… the strike stops bein’ just about the Newsies! You challenged our whole generation to stand up and demand a place at the table! If you published this, we’d have this strike in the bag!” She handed it back over to Sean.

Sean smiled at her excitement. He took it and replaced it in his pocket. “So, ya think it’ll work?”

“Of course!” She put an arm around him. “You gotta publish it!”

“I would, but Pulitzer’s had me blacklisted from every press in town. And I’d have to show it to Davey too because these are his words.”

Kath let out a puff of air through her nose. “Never thought he’d be so insightful. Smart kid, no common sense though.”

Sean chuckled. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Kath smirked. “Well, come on then, Spotty. Let’s find Dave and the new kid. We’ll figure it out from there.” She grabbed his hand and led him toward the Lodging House.

 -

 They won.

Of course, they had won the strike.

All the newsies had come together, they found a printing press, and everything came together in the end. It was a happy ending for everyone.

Sean stood to the side and smiled; he was grateful everyone was able to get what they wanted in the end. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see it was Kath.

“Great job, Spot,” she said with a huge grin.

“I didn’t do too much in the end,” he responded. “It was all of you that made this possible.”

She rested her elbow on his head. “Pssh, don’t be so modest. You were the one who helped us in the end.”

He felt his face burn again. “I guess-”

“Don’t guess. It’s true. You’re just the thing we needed to give us that little push in the end.”

“I gue- I mean, yeah. Sure.”

Kath crossed her arms and glanced away. “Well… I should be goin’. I got papes to sell.” She glanced back quickly. “I’ll see around, Spot. Well, I better see ya around.”

“I can always visit Brooklyn if you want. How’s that, fearless leader of Brooklyn?”

She punched his arm playfully and placed a hand on her hip. “Sounds good, Shorty.”

Her eyes darted everywhere like she checking if anyone was watching them, but everyone was too busy focusing on Jack and Davey, the leaders of the strike.

She leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See ya ‘round, Spot.”

Spot gently touched where she had kissed his cheek. “O-okay, I’ll see you around!” He called back to her as she grabbed her papers.

She waved as she exited the circulation gates.

Sean- or Spot- had a smile on his face. His hand remained on the cheek she had kissed. He gave a small wave back and watched her leave. Her fiery curls swaying as she walked.

Well… it looked like Spot would be visiting Brooklyn more often.

[destielstuffandthings]

Reunited (And It Feels So Good)

Finally getting around to the prompts in my inbox. This one was requested by @bekindplsrewind. Cas and Dean reunite at their high school reunion.

“I can’t believe you’re making me go,” Dean grumbled while straightening his collar.

“Oh, please,” Sam scoffed, “the minute I saw the invitation I knew you’d want to go.”

Dean turned around once he deemed himself suitable. “That does’t give you the right to RSVP for me.” He took a long swig of his beer and sighed. “I dunno, maybe it’ll be alright. Get to see all the chicks I used to bang turned into hot moms,” he laughed.

“You’re disgusting,” Sam sighed. “Come on man, lets go. Stop--,” he slapped Dean’s hand away from his collar, “stop fidgeting with your damn shirt and lets go.”

- - - - - - - - 

“I can’t do this.” Dean’s head hit the steering wheel as he groaned.

“You’re SUCH, a baby,” Sam said as he swung the car door open. “Remember, free bar.”

“Freebarfreebarfreebarfreebar,” he chanted the whole walk up to his old school. There was a huge banner with glittery words that spelled out WELCOME BACK CLASS OF ‘97! “Ugh, god, here we go,” he groaned.

Sam walked ahead of him up to a table with name tags. He ripped off two and wrote his name on one, carefully placing it on his chest. He scribbled Deans name on the other and slapped it against his sternum.

“Thanks, bitch,” Dean grunted, picking at the sticker.

“Welcome, jerk. Ready?”

Dean shook his head and pushed his hand through a wall of streamers.

“This is hell. Literal hell,” Dean said while scanning the room.

The old gym was decorated in streamers and disco balls. Laser lights cast different geometric shapes against the walls and pulsed in time with the horrible music blasting from the DJ booth on stage.

Sam smiled. “This is kinda awesome,” he yelled over the music.

Dean, who was already getting a headache, spied the bar and mimed to Sam that he was getting a drink. He walked up to the makeshift bar and leaned against it, holding up one finger.

“Beer, whatever ya got,” he shouted. He turned his head over his shoulder and watched four women dance (poorly) in a circle. They were all staring at his brother and pointing.

The bartender turned around while popping the cap off a brown bottle. “Here ya g--- Dean?”

Dean’s eyebrows raised as he turned his had back towards the bar. “Holy shit. Cas?”

Castiel smiled wide, his eyes shining in the light of the disco ball hanging above the bar. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Dean cleared his throat.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Cas tilted his head to the side, still smiling.

“Sam made me come,” he lied. “So, they uh--got you bar tending, huh?”

Castiel nodded and slid a beer to someone next to Dean with a smile. “Yeah, Meg thought it would be hilarious.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Shit,” Dean took a drink of his beer and smiled. “I forgot all about Meg Masters.”

“I wish I could. We’re roommates,” Castiel sighed.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Damn man, that’s gotta be rough,” he laughed. “I remember her havin’ a pretty big crush on you in 9th grade.”

“Yeah, poor thing. That’s before she knew I was gay. Once that cat was out of the bag we became best friends. Can’t seem to get rid of her,” Castiel said loudly, looking over his shoulder.

“Oh, Clarence. You know you love me,” a voice cooed. “Heya, Dean-o. How’s it hangin’?”

“Hey, Meg,” Dean grumbled, taking a long drink.

“We’re outta ice, Cas. Run to the cafeteria and get some?” Meg flipped her black hair over her shoulder and smiled. “Please?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Be right back.”

Dean nodded and watched Castiel walk through the wall of streamers before he finally brought his attention back to Meg.

“You know he had a thing for you, right?”

“What,” Dean choked on his beer. “N-no he didn’t,” he sputtered.

Meg laughed and leaned against the bar. “Please. He was like a lovesick puppy through most of high school. He basically came out and confessed his love for you in one breath.”

Dean stared at her for a full minute before he spoke. “He seein’ anyone,” he asked as nonchalantly as possible while picking at the label on his bottle.

“Smooth,” Meg leveled Dean a look. “I swear to god, if you just plan on lovin’ and leavin’ him, I’ll find you. And I’ll kick your perfectly shaped ass, Dean. Cas is my best friend and I can’t  have him talking about you for another ten fucking years.”

Dean gaped at her. “I won’t. I swear. I--I won’t even touch him. I mean, I’m not even---ga--I’m not. I’m--”

Meg put her hand up. “Just---just stop. It’s getting pathetic. I’ve known about you since the 10th grade. Remember Rhonda Hurleys pool party?”

Dean gulped. “Vaguely. Why?”

Meg stood up straight, eyeing Castiel walking into the room with a tub of ice. “Let’s just say she told me about your---how shall I put it--- extracurricular activities.”

Deans eyes danced over her face. “Uh, yeah, so? We fucked a few times.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how many of those times involved panties and a butt plug? Oh, Clarence you’re a lifesaver.”

Castiel’s eyes darted between Meg and Dean.

“Did I miss something?”

“Nope,” they answered at the same time.

“I’m outta here, boys. Dean, nice seeing you,” Meg scowled before turning and leaving with a bottle of vodka.

“Man, she’s still scary as hell,” Dean sighed.

“Yep. Try living with her,” Castiel sighed. “So, you in town for a while or just the night,” he asked while dumping the ice in a tub.

Dean bit back a smile as he took the last drink of his beer. “Just for tonight, actually. You still livin’ around here?”

“Mhmm,” Castiel grinned. “’Bout three minutes away, actually.”

“Really,” Dean said in a low voice.

Castiel raised an eyebrow as he leaned down, grabbing something from behind the bar. He placed a sign on the counter top that said “Back In Twenty”.

“Better make that forty-five,” Dean growled, grabbing Castiels hand and dragging him out of the gym.