#leo would probably be against it until he actually sees usagi and then he immediately goes into ✨dumbass gayboy mode✨

[crystallizabethine]

PERMISSION TO WRITE A FIC FOR THIS, OP??

(I'D CREDIT YOU FOR INSPIRATION)

With it being mentioned in ROTTMNT that Splinter has considered marrying his sons off one day, I would’ve found it hilarious if there was an episode where Splinter sets his sons up for a speed dating event against their will as an excuse for his boys to meet someone special and one day give him grandbabies.

And that’s where Leo meets a rabbit boy and Raph meets a lizard girl ;)

[goodlucktai]

give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter two: stuck on the thought of you

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 2k title borrowed from sunroof by nicky youre and dazy post-movie

(previous) (next)

read on ao3

x

Yuichi lasts another whole day before his scraped-together willpower completely fails him. Okay, half a day. At work he approaches Sunita in that lull between the lunch and dinner rush while she’s folding linens for the tables and makes his daring move.

Her phone is propped up against the napkin holder, playing a music video by a human performer Yuichi is unfamiliar with. Sunita is bopping along to it and doesn’t notice Yuichi until he’s standing directly in front of her.

When she does, she jumps about a foot in the air, yelping loud enough that a few of their coworkers on the other side of the dining room turn and shoot them judgemental looks.

“I’m so sorry!” Yuichi fumbles. He’s constantly accidentally sneaking up on people, but just watch him try to sneak out of the house on purpose to go joy-riding with Chizu and Kitsune. He gets caught nine times out of ten, usually before he’s even halfway out his window. It’s a joke.

“Ugh, I spend all my time with ninjas these days and I still get spooked,” Sunita says, patting her chest where her heart must have leaped in surprise, but her tone is good-natured. “You’d think I’d be used to people popping up out of nowhere by now, with how often my girlfriend’s little brothers do it, but nope! Anyway, sorry, did you need something?”

“Uh, hi,” he says at length. To his alarm and dismay, he doesn’t actually know where to go from there. It’s very possible he didn’t think this through. “I mean, I just wanted to say hi.”

Sunita saves him with a smile, her visible eye crinkling with the force of it.

“Hi, Usagi,” she says brightly. “Lunch was wild, huh? Did you make good tips?”

“Yeah, actually. It almost made my ten-top worth it.”

His coworker laughs, commiserating the way only a fellow server possibly could, but her eyes drop back down to the napkins. She mentioned to him once that she has to split her focus constantly, to be sure not to leave slime residue behind on everything she touches.

Yuichi is finished with his side work for now, so he reaches for a stack of the linens and drags it across the table toward himself, settling in to help. Sunita seems happy to have his company and doesn’t mind leading the conversation, his brief, generally one-word contributions no deterrent at all. It’s always been easy to talk to her.

“Um, hey,” Yuichi says very casually when he’s bolstered enough courage. “I was wondering if you had Leonardo’s number? I don’t have it, and—it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh!” To his immediate disappointment, Sunita looks apologetic. “Oh, I totally would, but it’s not really a good time? Things are kind of touchy right now.”

Yuichi focuses very hard on the napkin he’s folding because otherwise he’d probably stare at her as if he’s hanging off her every word, and that. Well that would make him seem desperate. And he’s not desperate.

“Because of the invasion?” he asks. His friend nods, her bubbly good cheer displaced.

“Yeah. It was really bad. I don’t know all the details but April and her boys were right in the thick of things. And after—well, after, Leo wasn’t doing too good. It was pretty scary. So his siblings sort of just closed ranks around him.” She slimes the napkin she’s holding and makes a face at it, balling it up in her hands. She finds another smile for Yuichi and adds, “Hey, how ‘bout this? I’ll text April and see what she thinks, okay? I’ll bet Leo would love to hear from a friend!”

Sunita is the best. He’s buying her boba tea after work tonight. And maybe, if she gets him Leo’s number, he'll buy her boba tea after work from now until the day they die.

Later that night, when he’s helping wash dinner dishes, Yuichi’s phone starts vibrating like it’s fighting for its life. When he checks it, he finds messages from Sunita rolling in. She’s a quintuple texter on a good day.

SUNA: hey ₍ᐢ.  ̫.ᐢ₎ SUNA: good news!! SUNA: april says she’ll meet up with you tomorrow SUNA: you’re off right? i said you’d come to the restaurant SUNA: she has classes in the afternoon so it’ll have to be before 11

Yuichi notes right away that there was no mention of his potentially not meeting up with April tomorrow. He gets the feeling he doesn’t have a choice.

Usagi: That’s great. I’ll ask auntie but I should be free. SUNA: okay april will see you there at 10 am sharp !! Usagi: Thanks, Sunita. I owe you one. SUNA: no prob!! ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა

The bunny emojis would rankle if they were sent by literally anyone else, but from her they manage to be adorable. Yuichi locks his phone and sets it face-down on the counter, then clears his throat.

Auntie glances at him, rubbing a sponge around the inside of a casserole dish. Two of his cousins are parked at the counter with coding manuals and coloring pages but two is better than the full audience of five, so Yuichi just goes for it.

“Would it be okay if I skipped my morning chores tomorrow?” he asks quickly. “I know the farmbatto still needs fixed but I promise I’ll get it done!”

“You stay far, far away from my robot,” cousin Botan says loudly without even deigning to look up at him, little seal point face buried in an unethically-sourced textbook thicker than Usagi’s arm. “It’s still holding a grudge from what you did to it last time.”

“It was an accident, and it was as much Momiji’s fault as mine!” Yuichi shoots back.

Momiji sends him a look of absolute betrayal, her russet-colored fur bristling in offense. “Was not! You were the one who said we should play samurai!”

“Alright, enough,” Auntie says with a clap of her hands that causes little dishsoap suds to scatter. Botan and Momiji both settle down, but considering they’re ten and six years old respectively, it’s not much of a victory. “Yuichi, what are you up to now?”

Yuichi twists the dishtowel in his hands. “Uhhhhh, so you know—you know Leonardo?”

His cousins both snort. Yuichi whips around to pin them with a glare. “What was that? Why did you do that?”

“Do we know Leonardo?” Botan asks dryly. He’s very sarcastic for such a tiny rabbit. “Hamato Leonardo? Gee, I dunno. You only bring him up nine billion times a day.”

“I do not!”

“Ignore them, baby,” Auntie says, amused. “What’s this about Leonardo?”

“Uh, well, he hasn’t been around lately. And I work with his big sister’s girlfriend, so I asked her about him, and she told me that he was—I mean, I guess he got hurt during that invasion. She couldn’t tell me much, so I was going to meet his sister tomorrow morning.”

Auntie drops the sponge in the dishwater and braces her hands on the edge of the sink, brow furrowed. “What? That poor boy was hurt and you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I didn’t know until now,” Yuichi says. Then, a little desperately, he adds, “Please be normal about this.”

“I’m making him a care package and you’re making sure he gets it,” Auntie steamrolls over him in her most no-nonsense tone. She abandons the dishes left in the sink and starts bustling around the kitchen. “If you’re seeing his sister in the morning, I’ll need to get started on it now.”

Yuichi gazes out the window at the darkening sky, praying that his ancestors will smite him on the spot, but unfortunately he lives to see tomorrow.

Also unfortunately, April doesn’t cancel or blow him off the next morning, and is even earlier than their agreed-upon meet-up time. She’s standing outside Run of the Mill when he gets there, her arms crossed and her mouth set, and if she’s nervous about all the big yokai milling around on the street, opening their stores or heading down to the market, she doesn’t show it at all.

She picks Yuichi out of the crowd with steely brown eyes and he steps up his pace a little bit, Spot trotting faithfully at his side.

“Good morning,” he says, hoping it’s a safe enough start when she seems annoyed with him already.

“Yeah, you too,” April replies. She considers him for a minute, then uncrosses her arms and stands a little taller, squaring her shoulders and jutting out her chin. “Sunita told me you wanted Leo’s number. Look, if this is some kind of joke, I’m not laughing.”

Um. What? Dumbly, Yuichi parrots, “A joke?”

“Leo may be the absolute worst sometimes, but he’s still one of the best people I know all the time,” the human goes on hotly, as if they’re both on the same page here. Yuichi has the sinking feeling that they’re reading completely different books. “Whatever you’re trying to get back at him for, it ain’t worth it. You do anything to hurt him and his brothers would go on the warpath, and frankly so would I.”

“I’m not trying to get back at him for anything,” Yuichi blurts. Honestly the only thing he wants payback for is all the real estate in his brain that Leonardo takes up, but that’s not something he’s willing to admit, out loud, with his mouth, where someone might hear him. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you can’t stand Leo,” April says plainly. “You always look pissed off when he’s around. I know he can be annoying as hell, but if you can’t see how good he is, too, then that’s your loss.”

Something in Yuichi’s chest folds right in half. Wow, it hurts a lot.

Historically, resting bitch face runs in his family. Usagi Miyamoto was known for many things, one of which was his dark, glowering expression. He isn’t smiling in a single painting of him that exists. Yuichi is usually very proud of every single trait that he’s told he inherited from that famous samurai, but maybe he could do without this one.

Now he’s combing through every interaction he’s ever had with Leonardo, every conversation. He’s picking apart each exchange and trying to look at it from a third party’s point of view. Did it seem like he didn’t want Leonardo around? Is that what Leonardo thought?

The striped turtle had a way of plowing unceremoniously through uncomfortable silences, of carrying the conversation when Yuichi’s tongue was all tied up, and it seemed as easy for him as it always was for Sunita—her vibrant personality and Leonardo’s charming one, filling the gaps Yuichi’s social awkwardness tended to create.

But maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe it was easy for Leonardo to talk to Yuichi because he figured he had nothing to lose—because he thought Yuichi disliked him already.

Suddenly, the only thing Yuichi wants to do is go back home, march up the stairs to his loft, climb back into bed, and stay there for approximately a hundred years. Spot leans his head against Yuichi’s leg, sensing his downward spiral the way hounds are trained to sniff out foxes.

“That’s not true,” Yuichi says. It sounds weak to his own ears.

He doesn’t know what else to say, and Leonardo’s sister isn’t willing to fill the silence the way Yuichi’s friends are. He looks everywhere but at her, flexing his hands, then remembers what he’s holding.

“Oh. This is from my aunt,” he tells the ground, holding out the embroidered bag Auntie forced upon him before he could slip out the door. “Sorry. I told her about—and she—yeah. Please tell Leonardo it’s from anyone else. Tell him it’s from Señor Hueso.”

“He’ll know it’s not from his tío at a glance,” April says. She sounds surprised and agreeably lifts the bag out of his hands. Huffing a laugh at how heavy it is, she gazes at Yuichi thoughtfully, then takes a peek inside. 

He probably should have seen that coming. Yuichi does his best to sink into the ground and disappear as she takes in the tupperware containers and plastic-wrapped pastries.

April looks back up at him. Some of the ice in her eyes has thawed.

“I’m definitely telling him it’s from you,” she announces.

“From Auntie,” Yuichi stresses desperately.

“Right,” April says. She’s grinning outright now. She shoulders the bag like it weighs about as much as a handful of grapes, and props her free hand on her hip and says, “You got your phone with you?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuichi says, dazed. Is this what whiplash feels like? He felt sort of like this when he crashed his bike in the watermelon field last year.

“Give it.” April makes a grabby gesture, swiping his phone from him immediately when he holds it out. She taps at it for awhile, then tosses it back. Her own phone chimes from the pocket of her jacket, cluing Yuichi in to what she was doing. “There. You’ve got my number and I’ve got yours. If Leo likes his present, I’ll pass your digits along.”

Her tone has warmed considerably. She winks at him and Yuichi has to remind himself sternly that it would not be cool to bury his face in his ears and hide there until she went away.

Is Leonardo’s entire family like this? Because it feels like Yuichi has just survived a tornado or tsunami or some other terrifying force of nature, and this conversation wasn’t even ten minutes long.

April waves cheerfully and takes off at a brisk jog, weaving through the Hidden City streets like she was born and raised here. Yuichi sinks onto a bench, presses his forehead against his knees, and calls Chizu while he’s still all curled over into a yokai pretzel.

“I’m calling in a favor you owe me,” he says by way of hello the second she picks up. “Meet me at the market street.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she replies dryly.

“It involves getting ice cream and making fun of my life choices.”

“We’ll be there in twenty.”

Yuichi ends up blowing the rest of his pocket money for the week on parfaits from their favorite street food stall, and his friends definitely don’t hold back laughing at him when he unpacks the latest installment in the befriending Leonardo saga, but it doesn’t seem as hopeless with the three of them around.

Gen in particular, big softie that he secretly is, hoists Yuichi up to ride on his shoulders as they make their meandering way back to Usagi Farm. It’s the rarest of gestures. Not even Kitsune’s best doe-eyes gets her a shoulder ride.

His friends make Yuichi feel ten feet tall.

And the next morning, he wakes up to nine new texts from an unknown number. A lot of them are just strings of exclamation points and emojis. He knows exactly who this is.

Yuichi’s fingers tighten around his phone as his ribs seem to tighten around his heart. A grin spills across his face before he can help it, mirroring the relentless summer sunshine pouring in from the window above his bed.

[goodlucktai]

I'm always down for any TMNT from you. I'd love to read more of your Ghost AU.

currently my fave tmnt au, how did u know?

give up the ghost

x

“We got a ton of good stuff,” Woody says happily from the backseat, panning through images on his complicated-looking camera. He looks up, grinning through a fine layer of hundred-year-old grime, and says, “We had permission to go in that house, right? From the owner?”

“Sure,” Leo says, glancing at him from the passenger side seat. They’re idling at a stop sign, because it’s twelve a.m. on a Wednesday and traffic won’t exist for another six hours; they can pretty much take all the time they want. “We always get permission first. Why?”

“‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we could upload some of this. Maybe make a Youtube channel, or a blog site. You want people to be able to find you, and an online presence is probably the best way to make that happen.”

“We have a Facebook page,” Mikey points out reasonably, eyes on the road as he pulls forward. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, Woody’s grin warms into something fond.

“For someone with a tech genius for a brother you’re a little clueless, Mikester. Trust me on this one?”

And that was never really the question; Woody has been with the club for nearly half a year now, and he hasn’t balked once at any of the things he’s seen. He goes in behind Leo and Mikey with that bulky camcorder on his shoulder, eyes focused forward and hands steady, and Mikey has come to count on his calm presence the same way he counts on Leo.

So it’s easy for Mikey to shrug and say, “‘Course, dude. I give you full creative license.”

“For that, amigo, marry me.”

And butterflies find a home in Mikey’s stomach after that. They live there happily for a handful of minutes, and Mikey is smiling like a dork at the parking lot as he turns into it, until Leo says, “Isn’t that Raph’s car?” and everything immediately sucks.

“Oh, no,” he says, spotting the station wagon. “No, no, no. Leo – “

“We can hide out at my house,” Leo says immediately. His voice is soft with sympathy, even as he adds, “But I think it’s a little too late for that.”

He’s right. Raph is leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded. It’s midnight, and he’s staking out Mikey’s apartment like a verifiable weirdo, and Mikey would rather be anywhere else right now.

Woody sighs with feeling, packing up his camera bag with unnecessary force. “This dude needs a hobby,” he mutters, one of three people in the world who are unequivocally on Mikey’s side. Mikey appreciates the show of solidarity, even though it’s hard to appreciate anything in face of the confrontation he’s in for.

He shifts glumly into park, pulls the keys out of the starter. Dusts himself off half-heartedly because that’s a lost cause, trades a long-suffering look with Leo, and then pops open the driver’s side door.

“Hi, Raph,” he says. “Didn’t expect to see you here. At my house, in the middle of the night.”

Raph gives him a once-over and his mouth tightens. “You got a minute?”

“I have lots of minutes,” Mikey says with forced good cheer. Unfortunately, he doesn’t add. To his friends he says, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Neither of them move. “It’s already late,” Leo says, meeting Raph’s heated look with a cool one. “Mind if I sleep over?”

“Same,” Woody pipes up. “Since we all got class in the morning, makes sense to carpool, don’t it?”

Mikey is hopelessly grateful to have them both in his life. On one hand, Raph isn’t someone he needs protecting from – Raph is a good person, and loyal to a fault, and he only comes around like this because he’s worried about Mikey, and trying to do good by the memory of his best friend by taking care of his best friend’s wayward little brother.

On the other hand, every conversation with him after Donnie died has been strained and uncomfortable, and it’s to the point now that just seeing him puts an anxious knot in the pit of Mikey’s stomach.

“Okay,” Mikey says, to all three of them. “Let’s go upstairs, I guess.”

Leo is texting someone on the quiet elevator ride up to Mikey’s floor. Since Mikey knows for a fact that Usagi isn’t awake right now and Karai is visiting her mother for the week, he has a good idea who Leo’s texting, and he’s proven right when he pushes the front door open and Donnie is nowhere to be seen.

Thanks, Leo, he thinks fervently. It’s brutally unfair to bring one of Donnie’s friends into the house without warning him first. The first time Casey dropped by unannounced, Donnie accidentally shorted out the power on the whole floor, and he was sad for days after.

Woody casually sets his bag on the table, right over Donnie’s phone. Mikey’s friends are actual ninjas and he loves them.

Leo shrugs out of his jacket, pretends not to notice the hearty rain of dust that follows the action, and folds it over the back of a kitchen chair. Raph looks equal parts exasperated and incredulous.

“I get it,” he says, “you’re his guard dogs. If I promise I’m not gonna throw a punch, will you let me talk to the kid?”

Mikey’s friends look pointedly at him. Mikey says, “Yeah, that’s. Cool. Leo, Woody, you guys can grab a shower if you want. The half-bath is off Donnie’s room, there’s a shower in there, too. Raphie and me’ll make us all somethin’ to eat real quick.”

For a second, it doesn’t look like they’re gonna move. After an obvious pause they both extract themselves from the room and head down the hall. It’s soft, Mikey only catches it because he’s listening, but they both murmur a greeting as they pass Don’s room and despite everything else that small kindness makes Mikey smile.

“Grilled cheese,” he decides aloud, and Raph dutifully heads to the fridge.

Maybe he’s making a point to be less barbed, but the silence between the two of them is closer to companionable than it has been in a long time. They butter half a loaf of bread, peel open a handful of Provolone cheese slices, and the first sandwich is assembled on the skillet, browned on one side, when Raph finally says, “Your friends don’t like me much.”

Mikey looks at him sideways. “I haven’t said anything to them to make them think – “

“Mikey, c’mon. I know that.” Raph runs a hand through his short hair, weary. “I wouldn’t like me much, either, if I was them. I don’t mean to be an asshole, kid, I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t been,” Mikey says immediately, heart bleeding for him. It’s so complicated between them anymore, but they were close, once. Close enough that Raph cares for him this much, even after everything. It makes Mikey feel small sometimes. “You’re going through something really painful, Raphie, and it’s hard. I get it.” He hesitates, and looks down at the plastic spatula in his hand, and adds, “I know I don’t make it any easier. Is Casey still mad at me?”

“Mikey,” he says it like it hurts. “He’s not mad at you. He never should’ve said what he did back then. He regrets it, he just doesn’t know how to apologize.”

“‘Sorry’ is a good place to start,” Mikey murmurs, getting a new sandwich started. It easier to look at the food than it is to look at Raph when he adds, “It’s okay if he’s mad at me, though.”

“Just stop,” Raph thunders suddenly, slamming a fist on the counter. 

The only reason Mikey doesn’t flinch is because of the company he’s been keeping lately, in a handful of haunted houses and churches across the state. Poltergeists are far more volatile than even Raphael, and with tempers much trickier. Mikey has seen far worse these days. 

Raph looks sorry for his outburst anyway, floundering for a moment before steeling himself and soldiering on. 

“You’re so – understanding. You shouldn’t be. You should be – all messed up, like the rest of us are. You should be grieving. But instead you’re actin’ like nothin’ happened. Like he ain’t gone, and you don’t miss him.”

Mikey’s heart is a solid lump in his chest. The sandwich on the stove is burning, filling the air with an acrid smell. 

“I know it ain’t true,” Raph goes on, softer. “I know that. I just don’t know why you’re actin’ like it, Mikey. It don’t make any sense to me.” 

Movement in the corner of his eye makes Mikey look up. Donnie is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, and his brown eyes are miserable behind his big glasses, and Mikey wishes with his whole heart that he could give his gift away by the hour, lend it to all the people missing people they can’t see anymore. 

“There isn’t really a textbook way to mourn somebody,” Mikey says carefully. “There isn’t a right or wrong way to hurt.”  

Raph doesn’t have an answer for that. The smoke alarm saves them both in the end, filling the strained silence with shrill beeps, and Raph leaves not long after that. 

Woody comes down the hall in a pair of borrowed pajama pants and one of their official club T-shirts, still toweling his hair dry. He gives the scorched grilled cheese a long, knowing look. 

“Raph is still grieving,” Mikey says firmly before Woody has a chance to make his remark. “He’s allowed to be difficult.”

“He’s grieving your brother,” comes the unflinching reply. “He’s not allowed to be difficult at you.”

But that’s not how grief works. It can come up from nothing, the same way love can, and it can be every bit as senseless and impossible and staggering as love can be, too.

No one gets to point at someone else and say “my grief is worse than yours, because my love was different.” No one can be the judge of that. It’s impossible to measure, impossible to make sense of. Mikey wouldn’t even want to try. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he slides an un-burnt grilled cheese onto a styrofoam plate and hands it over, with an absent, “Your shirt’s on backwards.” 

Woody scoffs but an involuntary flush rises in his cheeks – and despite everything else, Mikey can’t help but smile crookedly at the sight Woody makes, as he tries to turn the shirt around without taking it off. 

A few of those butterflies from earlier must have survived. And they must show on his face or give him away somehow, because Leo takes one look at him as he joins them in the kitchen and rolls his eyes. 

“I’m putting you both up for adoption,” he tells them dryly. 

“Empty threat,” Woody says from somewhere beneath his shirt. “You’d miss us too much.”

“I hate how sure you are of that,” Leo mutters, then reaches over to nudge Mikey’s arm. “Your turn. Shower. And then bed.” 

“Okay, mom,” Mikey says agreeably, and neatly sidesteps the punch Leo aims at his shoulder. Woody snickers, and an animated argument picks up behind Mikey as he heads down the hall. He pauses in the door of Donnie’s room, and says, “Bro?”

Donnie lifts his head to look at him, the only reply Mikey will get without his phone to serve as a communication bridge. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey asks him, feeling small. 

His brother stands and moves at a human pace across the room, and touches Mikey’s shoulder with unsubstantial fingers. His lips move, forming words Mikey can’t hear.

But at the end of it, Donnie smiles. Relieved, leaning into the hand that isn’t really there, Mikey smiles back.   

[goodlucktai]

If the Creek Don’t Rise (3/3)

‘verse: Mostly IDW, some elements of 2k12

Pairings: Rasey, Woody/Mikey, Ramona (past)—and a few more may be implied down the road, we’ll see brief mentions of Leosagi.

Summary: In which Raphael and Michelangelo are UCLA students and bring some friends home to South Dakota for Thanksgiving, where Donatello plays matchmaker, Casey becomes a horticulture enthusiast, Woody has great taste in art, and Raphael fakes an engagement.

Notes: This is an AU I started writing for @tmntflashfic’s first theme ‘beginnings.’ It’s very loosely based off the old Pauly Shore movie “Son in Law,” and I’ll thank y'all not to judge me for that. <3 This AU is not to be taken seriously, so please don’t take it too seriously. It got longer than I anticipated, so I cut it into three parts.

Titled after something my nana always says, “If the lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise,” which just means that as long as nothing unexpected happens, everything will go to plan.

THE FINAL PART IS FINALLY HERE

(Story tag)

Raphael was one-hundred and fifty percent certain his life was over.

His brothers kept throwing him bewildered looks, staring between him and Casey as though trying to form a connection that wasn't there. Going over what they knew in a new light, and drawing lines between every interaction they had seen so far and the bombshell Casey dropped on essentially the entire town, and wrapping their minds around the idea of Raph and Casey actually being Raph And Casey.

“I need some air,” Raph said abruptly over Leo's fourth attempt to draw him into conversation, standing up so sharply that he bashed his knee into the tabletop and rattled the glassware. “Shi – shoot. Sorry. Jones, you wanna come with me? For some air?”

“Dude, the food’ll be here soon.”

Raph's murderous intent probably showed on his face, because Mikey stood up a second later. “I'll go with you guys.”

“Oh, god, please don't leave me here,” Woody said very quietly, scrambling out of his chair to follow them.

Which is how Raph found himself pacing the parking in the warm country night air, hands folded into tight fists at his side. Woody and Mikey were sharing a cement parking block, sitting with their knees folded up by their chins and watching Raph's back-and-forth march with solemn eyes. Casey was leaned against the wall without a care in the world, and it made Raph want to grab him by the shirt and shake him.

“That was your move?” he bit out. “Faking an engagement? Jesus Christ, Jones!”

“Hey, I didn't see any of you comin' up with any brilliant ideas,” he shot back with a scowl. “And it ain't like I had days to think it over!”

“C'mon, Raphie, it's not Casey's fault,” Mikey interjected before Raph could give voice to any one of numerous scathing retorts. He looked pale and worried for him, face a wash of tired yellow from the buzzing streetlight overhead. “We were all pretty much put on the spot back there. At least the thing with Lisa is taken care of.”

“Okay, but this is – ”

“A lot better,” Woody said calmly. When Raph cut a glance at him, he added, “You're in complete control of the situation now. When we get back to your place, we'll explain the whole thing. Just play it cool through dinner, alright?”

“Yeah!” Mikey piped up, looking exhaustively relieved. He tilted a shining look Woody's way. “There's nothing to worry about, bro, we'll sort this out first thing once we're home.”

Except that the first thing that happened once they got home was Leo, successfully cornering Raph alone on the back porch. Woody shot him a sympathetic glance over Leo's shoulder but ultimately abandoned him to his older brother's mercies in favor of following Mikey around like a second shadow. Goddammit.

“Dude,” Raph headed him off, “it's been a night, okay, just – ”

“Look, I know you don't want to talk about it,” Leo said with a firm hand on Raph's arm, curtailing his attempts to get the hell out of dodge. But it was less that and more the earnest look in his wide almond eyes that kept Raph's feet rooted reluctantly to the floor. “I know that you probably had planned to tell us the news while we were together for the holidays, and I'm really sorry Elizaveta made it necessary for you to announce your engagement the way you did.”

Raph wanted to sink through the floor and disappear for maybe the rest of his life. Hoarsely, he said, “Leo, that's not – ”

“Just hear me out,” his big brother insisted, and somehow his expression only got more sincere. “I've – been texting you a lot recently about a guy I met on campus. Usagi. Remember?”

Raphael hazarded a nod, and shifted so that Leo's grip on his wrist was less of a grab and more of a hold. Leo nodded back, as though he needed the encouragement, and took a deep breath.

“I like him,” he blurted, cheeks coloring. “I like him a lot.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” Raph said, eyes huge in his face. Leo was still nodding, looking equal parts panicked to have said it out loud and relieved to part with the confession. He was staring at Raph like Raph had all the power to destroy him with a single word or harsh look, and Raph found he didn't care for that shit at all. “Look, man, that's – whatever, you know? You didn't really think we'd care, did you?”

“I don't know,” Leo said quietly, letting go of Raph's arm. “I mean – I told myself I was being stupid, but – ”

Raph could feel himself start to frown thunderously at the idea that Leo could tote around the ridiculous concept that his family's love for him was  conditional. And maybe it was a little hypocritical, since the same quiet worries had circled Raph's head, too, back when he was first irreparably charmed by the most obnoxious roommate in the history of UCLA – but at the same time, it was different. It was Leo.

“Hell yeah, you were being stupid. Look, as long as he's a good guy, as long as he doesn't – ” He thought of Bradford and the end of Mikey's sophomore year and abruptly saw red. Thought of the man Leo had his eye on doing anything similar, and his fists clenched so hard it hurt. “ – hurt you, y'know, in whatever way, then it don't matter. Not a lick. And our brothers and dad and Uncle L will all tell you the same thing. You know they will.”

There was a sheen to Leo's eyes that looked like it might be tears, but he chuckled warmly. Rubbed his face with the sleeve of his shirt and hitched up a smile so wide it probably could have left a permanent impression.

“Well – that's why I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To say thanks.”

Something close to dread pooled in the pit of Raph's stomach. “Thanks?”

“Yeah. I was scared, but you made it less scary. You've always been so much braver than me.”

Fearless Leo's eyes shone for a split second before he moved forward a swift step and tugged Raph into a solid hug. They were about the same height, Raph realized dimly, and wondered when that had happened. It was autopilot to put his arms around Leo in turn, and he only got squeezed tighter for his troubles.

“I’m going to talk to father before I go back to school. Thanks, Raph, really.”

Raph closed his eyes, and allowed himself an inward and heartfelt, Fuck.

"There is no fucking way we can call it off now,” Raph said, waving his hands wildly. “No fucking way.”

He had called an Immediate Emergency Meeting, which was why they were all clustered in the back shed, AKA Mikey’s childhood art studio. The overhead light was still swinging from the fifth time Casey had smashed his head into it, and subsequently Casey was rubbing his forehead and cussing under his breath.

Similarly, Woody was only half-listening; eyes roving the room like he was trying to commit ever inch of the dust-covered space to memory, lingering on old painted canvases and listing sculptures like there was treasure to be found among them.

Raph had Mikey’s full attention at least. His little brother was perched on the workbench, watching him with wide, worried hazel eyes.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s still okay. We’ll just ride this thing out, y’know? I mean, we’re only gonna be here for the rest of the week, right? And then when we go back to school everything will go back to normal, you can call and say the two of you broke it off or something. Right?”

“I -- yeah, I mean.” Raph ran an agitated hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Mikey beamed at him, tension easing out of his shoulders. Raph was unspeakably grateful, for the millionth time in his life, that he could always count on having Mikey on his team. Things never seemed as bad with him around.

“So you and Case just gotta act couple-y until then! No problem!”

Casey snorted, and Woody whipped around with a delighted expression. “’No problem’? Mikester.”

“What? What’d I say?”

Raph prayed that the shitty lighting in Mikey’s shed would be enough to hide the way his face turned red. From the coy look on his little brother’s face, and the amused look on Woody’s, he knew that was probably a fool’s hope.

Casey was still rubbing his forehead but he was watching Raph closely now, with something measured and thoughtful in his eyes.

Later, in the relentless quiet of Raph’s bedroom, the scattered feet between his bed and Casey’s cot seemed to stretch into miles. It was nothing like their first night there -- nothing like every night for the past few months in their dorm room at school -- when they could stay up and talk about anything, cradled safely in the dark as they learned to navigate each other’s pitfalls.

It was uncomfortable. The learned familiarity was gone. Raph was grasping for it at the corners.

Casey’s cot creaked as he rolled over, and his voice drifted through the space between them cautiously.

“Raph? You awake?”

With the blanket pulled up around his ears, Raphael pretended not to be.

Raph went slinking out of the house early the next morning. He waved to Uncle L when he passed him in the kitchen, put together a quick breakfast of leftovers out of the fridge, and crept out the side door into the yard while the sky was still more dark than light.

Father would have started the chores already. Raph wouldn’t see him until lunch. He wanted to talk -- it’s obvious he wanted to talk -- but he had always given his kids the whole of his faith, and probably trusted Raph to come and find him on his own when he was ready.

Fat chance of that.

Hiding in the horse barn, Raphael leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands and tried very hard not to lose his collective shit.

If the thing with Lisa wasn’t bad enough, now he’s fake dating a guy he wants to actually date, and it’s fake going really well, apparently, because they’re fake planning to get married.

He suckered himself into this situation in the first place, inviting Casey along for the visit home, but the kicker is he can’t even really bring himself to regret it. Not when the alternative would have been Casey on his own back in California.

He’s had a good time, Raph thought, and didn’t want to take a moment of it back.

“Yo,” Casey said abruptly, drawing Raph’s head up sharply. His sleep-touseled friend was in the wide doorway of the barn, looking distinctly unimpressed with him and the world and wakefulness in general. “Are you seriously avoiding me? Weak as hell, man.”

Raph could only stare at him, trying to find his footing in this conversation he was desperately unprepared for. Casey took pity on him after a moment and gestured over his shoulder.

“My buddy showed me where you were. I named her Chompy by the way, on account of the hole she chewed into my shirt the other day.”

Raph followed his hand to the fence opposite the barn, where the newest addition to the family sheep was gazing dolefully at them through the gap in the wooden posts. He blinked, and looked back at Casey, and said, “You can’t name Mikey’s sheep Chompy. That’s a stupid name.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all named after like, artists and shit. Okay, fine in keeping with family tradition, she can be Chompy Picasso.”

“No. Just -- no. I’m gonna. Hold on.”

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Mikey; who was probably still up at ass o’clock in the morning after having not gone to bed in the first place in favor of a sci-fi movie marathon with Don and Woody.

Sure enough, Raph got a reply almost immediately.

To: Mike case is tryin to name ur lamb chompy picasso

From: Mike !!!! thats the best name EVER tell him thx omfg

“Okay, well, it’s official,” he said, pocketing his phone again. “I don’t know any of you. You’re all total strangers. Get out of my house.”

“Pfft. That makes this engagement a little weird, don’t it?”

Raph didn’t flinch, but it was a close call, and he jerked his eyes away to stare at the wall, and then the ground. He didn’t want to talk about, didn’t know why he thought he could avoid it, wanted for there to be a way to go back and face Lisa from the beginning the way he should’ve -- the way she deserved -- instead of hiding from the situation like a coward.

He should have --

“Raph,” Casey barked, “stop freaking out, Jesus Christ!” His tone was sharp, but mostly without anger, and the steps forward he took were hurried. “I’ll slap you in the face to snap you out of it like in every bad Lifetime movie you’ve ever seen, don’t even try me.”

“You don’t watch Lifetime movies.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know what I watch.” Casey punched him in the shoulder, just hard enough to leave a residual ache there after his fist fell away. “And I don’t know what bullshit is running through your head right now, but we’re fine. This whole thing was my fault, and I’ll deal with it. So quit acting like the world’s comin’ to an end, you moron.”

Raph risked a glance up at him, disbelieving. Casey looked ready to throw another punch, agitated in a restless way that spoke more of worry than anything else.

And Raph felt like a moron.

“Fuck. Case, look -- “

But they were both interrupted by the dark head of a dapple grey stallion as it leaned over the door of its stall to see what all the commotion was about. It flicked an ear and shook out its mane before craning a long neck over to inspect Casey curiously.

“Holy shit,” Casey said, completely side-tracked as he stared at the approaching horse with wide eyes. “There’s a monster in your barn.”

“This is Spike.” Raph patted him fondly. “He’s nosy.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Casey put out his hands cautiously, and Spike leaned his nose into the cradle of his palms, snuffling wetly around for treats. “Ew,” Casey added, delighted.

Raph watched them for a minute, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So,” he ventured, “we’re good?”

“Yeah, man. We’re good. Unless you keep acting like an idiot, goddamn.”

Spike lipped at the hem of Casey's shirt affectionately. Casey squawked, and Raph's heart did a complicated flip in his chest.

Raph's brothers, and his father, and his uncle all approved of Jones, whether the knew the full truth about the situation or not—but it was something else, something important, that his horse approved of him, too.

Fake dating, he reminded himself viciously, knowing already that the reminder wouldn’t stick.

The day before Thanksgiving, there was a big dance hosted at the rec center for the young adult crowd. The six of them took Uncle L’s truck, tired of being cooped up at the farm, and if the drinks provided weren’t spiked Raph would spike them his damn self.

“You see Lisa anywhere?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to Casey with a cup of warm punch.

“Am I s’posed to be lookin’ for her?”

“I owe her an explanation."

“You don’t owe anybody shit, bro, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

On Raph’s other side, Donnie straightened so abruptly that it got Casey, Raph and Leo’s -- from the other side of the refreshments table -- attention all at once. And before any of them had a chance to so much as open their mouths, he was pushing off the wall and striding through the crowd with vicious intent, looking ready to steamroll any number of people out of his way.

“What the heck,” Leo said, frowning. He was searching the room for the source of Donnie’s sudden beeline, and found it moments before Raph did.

Something ice-cold and toothed reared its ugly head in the pit of Raph’s chest at the sight of Bradford dragging his little brother out the back door. With a bitter taste in the back of his throat, he dropped his cup and shoved his way across the dance floor after Leo.

The back was for deliveries, with a wide gravel drive and a small storage shed. It was much quieter and darker out there, where the lights and the music and the dull roar of conversation from the party they had left behind were distant and muted.

Donnie was boxed in the doorway, frozen, with a hand over his mouth. Leo all but picked him up and moved him out of the way, face dark with furious fear, but after a second to take in the scene, he was motionless, too.

“What the fuck,” Raph blustered, shoving past, “move, don’t just -- “

“Holy shit,” Casey said from behind him. 

Bradford was crumpled on the ground, a bloody hand trembling over his broken nose. His lettermen’s jacket was stained with it, his cronies standing well back, and Woody was lowering his hands as Raph put the pieces of the scene together into a cohesive picture. 

Holy shit was right. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Woody said mildly, eyes cold as he looked Bradford over. “I really don’t want to have to tell you again.”

He looked like he really wanted to have to tell him again.

Reaching out without looking away from Bradford for a second, Woody gathered Mikey up under his arm, curling the smaller blond in tight against his side. Mikey’s eyes were wide but it was wonder in his face, and the beginnings of delight, and any shadow of that awful misery from moments earlier was burned completely away.

“Dude,” he whispered adoringly, “You’re a ninja.”

Woody’s icy expression gentled for him, almost absurdly, and if Raph looked to his left he’d see Donnie looking smug as shit at having been right about something no one else could have guessed from the very beginning, again. “Something like that. My aunt’s an MMA fighter. She taught me a lot. I took lessons for a few years, too.”

“Holy cats! Woody! That’s, like, maximum rad!” 

Grinning down at him, Woody said, “Anyway, weren’t we about to go dance?”

With a gasp, Mikey snatched up his hand and tugged him back toward the door. He looked surprised to see his brothers there, but he greeted them with a smile that didn’t shake, and Donnie touched Woody’s arm for a moment of exhaustive, wordless thanks. 

Woody shook his head with a stubborn glint in his eye, squeezing Mikey’s hand tighter. 

“Message received,” Leo said with a grin, and Raph watched Donnie take a mean delight in locking the back door behind them when they returned to the party. Not that he was worried about Bradford showing his ugly face anywhere near Mikey again anytime soon. He owed Woody a drink or ten for that. 

“Dude,” Casey said, “what the hell is up with that guy? Why’s he got it in for Mike?”

There was a wet floor sign and a disgruntled janitor cleaning up the spilled drinks Raph and his brothers left behind earlier. Raph went in search of a new spot to stand in.

“You know the movie Carrie?”

“Sure.”

“Same deal. Except instead of pig blood there at the end, Bradford got him up on stage in the middle of the homecoming dance and outed him in front of god and everybody.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“I got suspended that night for two weeks for beating the shit out of Bradford, but dad gave the principal so much hell she brought it down to one.” Glancing sidelong at Casey, Raph added, “Mikey got bullied after that, bad. Not for long, I mean, he doesn’t have three big brothers for nothing. But it left a mark on him, y’know, it really did some damage.”

“You think Woody knew?”

“I dunno. I didn’t tell him. And Mikey doesn’t talk about it. Anyway, I don’t think it matters. Anyone who looks at Mikey cross-eyed is gonna have fuckin’ Bruce Lee to deal with, and I’m more than fine with that.”

It wasn’t hard to find them on the dance floor, swinging each other around wildly and laughing louder than the band could play. The Mikey of two years ago wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see it, Raph thought. Dancing close with another boy in front of their whole small-minded town like there wasn’t a single goddamn thing to be ashamed of.

That night, warm with the alcohol they picked up on the way home and groggy, Raph fell into bed with his clothes on. Barely a minute later, hands were shoving at his chest and shoulder, and Casey was muttering, “Scoot over, dude, I’m not sleeping on that fucking thing anymore.” 

At three a.m. it made sense, and Raph rolled over to make room for him.

A rooster call woke him up scant hours later, and he blinked painfully through a hangover into the weak sunlight beginning to poke its fingers through the windows of his bedroom. 

His arm was slung over Casey’s waist. Casey was drooling on his shoulder. His head hurt too much to process either of those things.

“Yer thinkin’ too loud,” Casey muttered softly, the words wincing and whispered. “Too hungover for that shit.”

“Case -- “

“I swear to god -- “ 

“No, listen,” Raph was saying stupidly. “I don’t want to fake date you. It’s driving me insane, I don’t want to do it anymore. So that’s why we should -- “

With a soft cuss, Casey jerked upright. Raph had exactly one second to worry before his roommate was clambering on top of him, straddling his waist with a twisted comforter between them and leaning down with tangled hair and blurry eyes to kiss Raph quiet. 

It worked like a charm -- Raph shut right up. Casey kissed him for a lot longer anyway. Relentless, like there was something to make up for. Whatever it was, Raph was happy to give it, digging his fingers into his grip on Casey’s arms, keeping him as close as he could until the last possible moment.

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX sorry abt dinner the other night. sorry about a lot of stuff.

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX Forgiven. 

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX next time i visit ill make it up to you. promise

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX You will do no such thing. Next time, I will make it up to /you/. I owe you that much. 

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX And I hope you’ll introduce me to your fiance. I would like to meet him. 

Contact saved as “Mona Lisa.”

“What are you smilin’ about?” Casey mumbled without lifting his head, word salad all but lost against Raph’s collarbone. 

“How do you know I’m smiling, you creep?”

“C’n just tell. What’s up?” 

Raph set his phone aside, and pushed a hand through Casey’s hair. 

“Wanna come home with me again for Christmas?”

“Pretty sure I have a standing invitation from your entire family to crash all your holiday get-togethers, loser.” He slung an arm across Raph’s waist and yawned. “Welcome to the married life. No getting rid of me now.”

“We aren’t married, dumbass.” 

“Fuck you, go back to sleep.”

The two of them in one bed was a tight fit, but the cot was all the way across the room, they were still existing on the tender plane of the very barely not hungover anymore, and it seemed like a waste to sleep so far apart anyway.

On Thanksgiving Day, three things happen:

Mikey fucking outdoes himself, to literally no one’s surprise, and the food is fantastic. He and Woody hold hands through most of the meal, and Raph and Donnie share a wry look when father surreptitiously passes Leatherhead, who has better lighting from his side of the table, the digital camera. 

Leo comes out to the rest of the family, and it goes more or less exactly the way Raph thought it would. Leo's face is a pleased pink as he swipes through his phone at Mikey’s tireless demands for pictures of Usagi.

Raph clears his throat halfway through dessert and manages to meet his father’s eyes when he says, “There’s something I need to tell all of you. About the, uh. Engagement. See, we were -- Case and I, we were never really -- “

“ -- sure about the wedding date,” Casey cuts in smoothly, claiming a third slice of pumpkin pie. “We figured we’d put things on hold, you know, till we’re done with school, at least. No sense rushing in, right?”

Mikey and Woody are grinning across the table at him. Casey is grinning around a mouthful of pie. Raph throws his last vestiges of caution to the wind and grins right back.