Kersplat
Donatello tapped his foot. „I am not amused,“ he said, his face wielding an expression that in his case meant angry glare.
“This has gone too far,” Leonardo agreed, knitting his brows together.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Raphael announced, baring his teeth.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Leonardo said. “Maybe he had a reason.”
“Doubt that,” Raphael spat, tearing his eyes from the abomination in front of them. “I’m gonna find him, and when I find him, I’m gonna shred him to pieces,” he promised warmly and walked away.
Donatello tilted his head in morbid interest. “I have to admit, he’s showing quite a talent,” he said, contemplating the work of art.
“Oh God, don’t even start Donny,” Leonardo mumbled, turning his shell to the drawing for safety measures.
Donatello smiled and stepped closer to examine the details, the repulsion that had risen in him the first moment he saw it receding. He traced his finger along the lines. “I wonder what technique he used...” Leonardo forced himself not to snap at him out of sheer embarrassment.
“Got him, the bastard!” Raphael bellowed, his yell followed suit by Michelangelo’s scream.
Leonardo quickly walked out of the room to restrain him from doing irreparable damage. It was his duty, but Leo found himself struggling not to join Raphael for once.
Michelangelo kicked and bucked as Raphael dragged him inside the room.
“Explain this,” Raphael growled, grinding Michelangelo’s face against the paper on the wall.
“Gah! I, it wasn’t my fault! Klunk did it! Look, he even put his signature on it.”
“Cats can’t write,” Raphael used common sense.
“Klunk isn’t a cat, he’s a ninja!”
“Does being a ninja include,” Donatello began, “leaving hair and faeces in everyone’s beds, not excluding master Splinter’s (who always closes his door), as well as in the pots, flatware drawers, stove, microwave, sink, bath, shower, security systems, and my computer? Does it include clawing up the chairs, sofas, and encased speakers? Or...” Donatello became aware of the twitches of Raphael’s hands that reported his patience thinning. “...other numerous pranks and mischieves that have happened lately, counting those that I don’t know about because they’re too awkward to share? Does being a ninja include,” he pointed at the sheet of paper taped to the wall, “drawing a picture of the three of us having sex with our own weapons?”
Donatello was surprised that he’d managed to say it out loud. Leonardo was blushing and looking away, and Raphael was ventilating his fury by furtively choking Michelangelo.
“All Klunk’s doing...” Michelangelo rasped.
“Then how come...” Raphael hissed in his face, “you don’t happen to be featured in the picture?”
Michelangelo’s face contorted with realisation and fear. He sputtered for a while, until Leonardo composed himself enough to speak coherently.
“Do you know what will happen now?” he asked flatly.
“You’ll kick Klunk out on the street?”
“No, we won’t,” Leonardo shook his head. “Klunk will only be re-educated.”
“So you’re forgiving us?”
“Far from that.” Leonardo couldn’t keep the sinister tone out of his voice. “You will be punished Michelangelo.”
“And I think,” Raphael smirked, “I know just the way. Get his nunchaku Don. Leo, there are condoms and lube in my drawer.”
Michelangelo’s eyes widened. “Klunk only meant it as a joke...” he whispered.
“Unsettling when jokes become reality, isn’t it?” Donatello pulled Michelangelo’s weapons out of his belt. “Don’t worry,” he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll stretch you.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Michelangelo sniffed.
