One Fine Day

One fine evening, Donatello looked up from his algebra notebook and said: „Let’s play spin the bottle.“
Silence ensued.
“Cowabunga dude!” boomed Michelangelo, jumping up from the couch. “I haven’t played spin the bottle in like, ages...” While he continued to shout what a great idea it was, Leonardo raised an eyeridge in Donatello’s direction.
“Why so suddenly?” he asked cautiously.
“Relaxation,” said Donatello simply.
“We just were relaxing.”
“I meant group relaxation.”
Leonardo chose to keep quiet at that.
“I don’t wanna play spin the bottle,” Raphael yelled from his room. “Mike’ll try and take advantage of us again.”
“Nobody said you have to play,” Leonardo objected.
“And don’t you plan to,” Raphael grunted and attended his beloved punching bag again.
“Hah! Fear the Mikey!” Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him. Raphael didn’t react, so he found it appropriate to go to his room and taunt him some more.
“Do we even have a bottle?” Leonardo uttered, considering ways of preventing the game without getting up from the lotus position.
“Sure we do,” Donatello said easily.
“But we took the glass trash out just yesterday. I checked, nothing’s left.”
“I’ve got one hidden...”
Leonardo feigned polite interest: “Do you mean the whiskey bottle that master Splinter found in that rusty pipe in the kitchen?”
Donatello’s eyed widened as he looked at Leonardo pleadingly.
“No, he doesn’t know. If he does, he kept it to himself. Although... I do recall that he told me one of my brothers was reeking of alcohol. I took it he was talking about Raph,” Leonardo laughed.
“You won’t...”
“Tell him? No. But careful about drinking, ‘kay? You know it isn’t right.”
“Sure,” Donatello muttered, looking away.
“Well, this means we can’t play spin the bottle,” Leonardo concluded.
“Nope.” His sight was drawn to Donatello’s smirk. Don looked up. “I’ve got one more.”
“The one in the bathroom?”
“Shell.”
“I thought so.” Leonardo settled on the floor, complacently eyeing the flustered brother who seemed to be thinking hard about a possible bottle location.
“There’s still...” he piped up, gesturing towards Raphael’s room.
“Are you willing to ask him?” Leonardo asked.
Donatello bit his lip. “No,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t even know about it.”
“See?” Leonardo shrugged and smiled inwardly. Donatello stared at him, lost in thought.
“Eeek!” The air carried a shrill scream and out of Raphael’s room ran Michelangelo, his brother hard on his heels.
“We’ll see about that!” Raphael roared and plopped down next to Leonardo. “Where’s the bottle?”
Leonardo paled and caught a glimpse Donatello’s victorious smirk.
“We have no bottle,” the genius informed happily.
“Bullshit.”
“Raph.”
“Whatever. Why don’t we have a bottle?” Raphael inquired.
“We took the glass trash out yesterday,” Leonardo reminded him.
“We did?”
“Yes, we did.”
“Too bad. What do we play with? Hey Mike!”
Michelangelo winced. “I’ll get a bottle!” he called out cheerfully.
Leonardo’s gaze followed him to his room speculatingly. Naturally, after he figured his brothers had been hiding alcohol from him, he searched the whole lair, not excluding their rooms. (Because alcohol is a threat. Yes, it is. It threatens ninjutsu. And all. And it isn’t right to drink!) Raphael’s stash was hidden so poorly that he didn’t consider it necessary to get rid of, as somebody would find it very soon anyway.
As Michelangelo appeared in his vision field, closing in with a flashy smile and a bottle of vodka, Leonardo was forced to admit that he had been overconfident. He listed it as a personal failure to brood over later, and for now focused on the situation. Which was getting worse by the second, because now not only they had a bottle, but also Raphael was more than willing to join for an unknown reason. And someone needed to wipe that victorious smirk off of Donatello’s face.
“We play now!” Michelangelo demanded as they formed a circle on the ground. Leonardo suddenly understood where pretended passivity got him – caught up in a dangerous game. He laughed at himself internally and resigned to play.
“Okay, okay. I get the first spin!” Michelangelo decided and put the bottle in their centre.
“No, you don’t. It was my idea to play,” Donatello argued and put a hand on Mikey’s.
“But the bottle’s mine!” Michelangelo put his other hand on Don’s.
“And I own the copyright!” Donatello put his other hand on Mikey’s.
“And you’re both wide open,” Raphael snickered and pulled the bottle from under their fingers. (“Hey!”) He opened it and took a swig. Leonardo stared at him.
“Now we play.” Raphael placed the bottle back in their centre and spun it.
“Leo!” And Leonardo’s nightmares came true. The leader tried to keep a stony face as everyone cheered happily.
“Truth or dare?” Raphael leaned to him and looked him in the eye. It read, dare and you drink. And Raphael’s breath was warm and smelled foul.
“Truth,” Leonardo chose, thinking Raphael would be too jolly to think of anything particularly bad.
“Are you gay?”
Leonardo could only look away in embarrassment as Don and Mike doubled over in laughter. This gave him time to think over an answer, but his head was strangely hot and refused to think of anything smart.
“Not exactly,” he responded, making the fits start all over again. Once his brothers were in a condition to watch where the bottle was pointing, Leonardo took it in his hand (it was cold and somehow enticing) and spun it.
“So Don,” the leader looked up to Donatello’s lingering grin. “Truth or dare?”
“I say truth,” Donatello said promptly.
“Why did you insist that we play spin the bottle?”
BURN, Leonardo thought as he watched Donatello turn dark green.
“Uh... well, I had plans...”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I wanted to have fun.”
“That isn’t the whole truth!”
“Am I forbidden to want to have fun?”
“I’m just pointing out that you said ‘truth’, so I expect you to give me the truth.”
“Fine,” Donatello sighed. “I wanted to play because I wanted to get someone down to my bed tonight and I wanted to make some rude and inappropriate innuendos about you and Mike in the process. Satisfied?”
Leonardo held his tongue, which was now like a piece of foreign flesh camping in his mouth. Michelangelo whistled and Raphael grimaced.
“Now let’s see... Oh, me again. Well, Donnie, truth or dare? Dare, I say. Okay, I dare you to spin the bottle. Fine then. Ah, Raph!” Donatello smiled.
“Dude, you have personality issues,” Michelangelo commented.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Raphael said boldly.
“I dare you to find out what master Splinter did to our dear Jack in 60 seconds,” Donatello instructed with a hurt expression. Raphael jumped up and stormed off. (Leonardo couldn’t tell whether it was because he was furious, or because of the time limit.) In any case, he came back just as Donatello’s lips reached fifty-five.
“He either drank it, or poured it down the toilet,” Raphael bellowed. “I found the broken glass, look,” he showed them a label glued to a few shards of glass. “Poor Daniel.”
“He didn’t deserve that,” Donatello agreed.
“Your turn, Raphie,” Michelangelo said.
“My turn? Uh, yeah. Spin it... Heh, I got Leo again. Truth or dare?”
Leonardo considered his options. He definitely wouldn’t welcome another questioning of his sexuality, however, being forced to drink vodka would be even worse. “Truth,” he said, readying himself for another attack.
“So there’s this one thing that’s been bugging me for a real long time,” Raphael began, watching him intently with tilted head. “Back when we were little. Who did you think would get to be the leader?”
Leonardo was suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t know,” he admitted, willing the feeling away. “I didn’t expect master Splinter to give the function to me.” He paused. He didn’t have to say the next sentence... but oh well, he could survive one ego stroking. “I assumed that Raph would be the one to receive the training. Since he was so eager to do it.” He shrugged and looked at Raphael, who looked infinitely pleased with himself.
“Wonder what made the old man decide otherwise,” he muttered. Leonardo quickly redirected his attention by spinning the bottle.
“Mikey, truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Michelangelo announced, sticking out his chest. Leonardo thought shortly and then said:
“I dare you to hold a minute of silence.”
“For our lost Daniel,” Raphael added, remorse colouring his voice. Michelangelo shrugged and spent the next minute making silly faces.
“Minute’s up,” Donatello told him.
“About time!” And Michelangelo farted loudly. “Ugh. Couldn’t have held it much longer.”
“Jesus Christ,” Raphael said and turned away. “Did you put beans on your pizza?”
“Again?” Donatello added in dismay.
“Sorry dudes,” Michelangelo grinned.
“Next time, anyone, if you see him with a can of beans, take it from him by any means,” Leonardo commanded, holding his snout.
“Just this once, I totally agree with you Fearless,” Raphael said, half-mockingly.
The game had to be paused until they found a new place to sit that wouldn’t be contaminated with Michelangelo’s gas. Of course, the young turtle boasted about possesing the most lethal weapon of them all. Leonardo cited that a weapon is only as good as the hand that wields it and surprisingly, it was Don who took the chance and implied that Michelangelo’s butt was a brilliant mean to wield a weapon. Leonardo couldn’t get the image out of his head for at least a minute, and even when he did, it kept coming back to him through the whole evening.
“So, gentlemen and sword wielders, it is now my turn to spin,” Michelangelo announced with a crooked grin. “The lucky winner is... Raph! What will it be mister, truth or dare?”
Raphael seemed to contemplate this, which was news for Leonardo. He could actually do that?
“Truth,” he said slowly.
“Wrong decision,” Michelangelo chuckled. “Now, we all know Raphie...” he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “that there’s a certain something that Don discovered a few months ago.”
Judging from the way Raphael’s cheeks flushed and the hot-tempered brother began to shake, Michelangelo’d struck a vital chord. Leonardo knew what was going to follow.
“You and I both know exactly what he told us, and, you know, I never really got to hear it from you. Never got to know that you actually acknowledge it,” Michelangelo’s voice dripped imaginary honey on Raph’s ego.
“Come on Mikey, that’s cruel,” Leonardo interrupted and smiled sorry at Raphael. Donatello nodded, probably knowing even better than Leonardo what a touchy subject this was with Raph, but not being in the position to offer comfort, as he was the initiator of the whole deal.
“That’s why I’m asking this now,” Michelangelo conceded, “while he has to obey rules. So, say it Raph. Say what’s the big difference between you and I.”
Raphael seemed to be working hard not to shake Mikey off (and punch him in the face). He mumbled something incoherent and closed his eyes. “Don told us... that he... and me... used to be female before we mutated.”
“Aand?”
Leonardo was speechless at how much control Raphael was showing.
“You were male.”
“That’s right!” Michelangelo cried out in joy and pulled Raphael’s head down to give him a noogie. Leonardo saw it coming miles away and jumped into action as soon as Raphael’s fist hit Michelangelo’s stomach. The teasing turtle flew back with a surprised yelp and Leonardo lunged at Raphael before he could truly hurt Mikey. However, he collided with Donatello in midair and could only watch as Raphael, instead of trying to kill his dear brother, snatched his bottle od vodka and emptied a good third of it. He then dropped it to the ground, and to Leonardo’s wide-eyed stare answered:
“I don’t really care anymore.” And he proceeded to glare at a crack in the floor, ignoring Michelangelo’s hurt and confused questions about the nature of his violent behaviour (or lack thereof). Leonardo put it away for further brooding and concentrated on untangling his limbs from Donatello.
“You’re sitting on my face!” the genius could be heard.
“Must be a nice view,” Michelangelo struck back for the earlier weapon innuendo.
“Can it Mikey, we both know I am not the one who has hots...” At that point, Leonardo decided to sit on Donatello’s face some more. “...Didn’t need that,” Donatello muttered afterwards, but kept everything else to himself.
“Raph, spin,” Leonardo reminded his blankly staring brother. Raphael raised his head.
“Huh?”
“Spin the bottle.”
“We’re still playing?”
“If you didn’t drink that swill, you’d know we are.”
Raphael and Michelangelo seemed to be ready to argue but Donatello stepped in.
“Guys, calm down. Leo, don’t insult something you’ve never tasted. Raph, let it go and spin,” he gave out orders such that Leonardo felt slightly offended. So did Raphael, apparently.
“I ain’t doing anything until we get that swill straight...”
“He didn’t mean that.” Donatello hid that he rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t even tasted it, so how could he know it was a swill? Just spin the bottle. Come on, now’s your chance to get back at Mikey. Whatever he’s told you back in your room.”
“Yeah fine,” Raphael grumbled and finally obeyed. “Get back at him, you say? Well Don. Truth or dare?”
Donatello hissed. “Dare,” he then said, carefully.
Leonardo noticed that Michelangelo was looking at him mischievously, and almost missed how Raphael slurred: “Get another bottle of Jack. You’ve got two...” he shook his head, “no, five minutes.”
“A bottle of Jack?” Donatello repeated and delicate gears could be heard turning in his head. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Can do.”
That was the last they saw of Donatello for the following quater an hour. Wearing a coat and a sheepish smile, he came back just as Leonardo started insisting they go and look for him.
“Ninjutsu masking skills aren’t very helpful if the store doesn’t have it,” he explained while putting the bottle before Raphael (who grunted appreciatively and set it aside) and shedding the uncomfortable clothes. “It’s not like I could have known...” he said defensively in anticipation of what was to come.
“I see you didn’t complete the dare Don,” Raphael said lowly.
“Yeah...” Donatello came back to the circle. “You can set a new one.”
“Well.” In Raphael’s eyes, Leonardo saw the same message that he’d got twice. Dare and you drink.
“Let’s see how you can cope with Mikey’s vodka.”
Leonardo grew convinced that from that point on, everything would go downhill quickly. Once Donatello courageously took on a third of the bottle, he knew that the team had lost a vital part. One sober and one permanently unhinged turtle wouldn’t be enough to keep the other two in check.
“Helloo,” Donatello smiled sweetly. “Leo, reality check.”
Leonardo looked down and found the bottleneck pointing at him. “Truth or dare?” Donatello’s singsong voice asked him.
“Truth,” Leonardo said, hoping to get it over soon.
“Oooh, you know what that means,” Donatello chuckled. Leonardo raised an eyeridge at him, hoping that he hadn’t had a question ready. He never saw Donatello drunk, so who knew what the alcohol would do to him.
“Alright, I always wondered about this.” Donatello looked around with the face of an angel. “Do you love your swords?”
“What kind of question in that? Of course I do,” Leonardo said fondly. To his surprise and unsettlement, Michelangelo started snickering.
“Dude, I don’t think he meant it like that,” he said and shook his head. “Who knew you were such a perv, Donnie?”
“Overworking does that,” Donatello mumbled. “Overworking and sexual frustration.”
Leonardo now hoped that he could avoid answering. Unfortunately, Donatello seemed just as attentive as always.
“Answer me Leo,” he demanded with an innocent smile that could take on Michelangelo’s. “Do you love your swords?”
“I...” Then, Leonardo’s imagination kindly offered him what that meant. “...Oh shell.”
“He understands,” Donatello whispered to Raphael, pointing at him. Raphael chuckled and Leonardo blushed.
“Not in that way,” he said, now truly offended. How could they even think that he’d ever think of doing such a thing with his katanas!
“I can see in his eyes that he keeps getting ideas,” Donatello whispered loudly, and Raphael laughed out loud, relaxed and happy to poke fun at the leader. Leonardo’s pride rose up, hurt and vengeful, but seeing the odds, Leonardo decided it wasn’t worth it. The mental image of Michelangelo’s butt as a mean to wield a weapon flashed across his mind and connected on a level that made him want to kill his imagination.
To divert their attention, he reached for Michelangelo’s bottle and spun it. The topic was indeed never mentioned again, as his brothers argued lively about where the bottle was pointing. Raphael made his point clear by pushing it so that it faced Michelangelo.
“That’s cheating,” Michelangelo informed him. “I refuse to accept it.”
“You’ll have to,” Raphael snorted. Any further arguments were however warded off when Leonardo took the bottle and spun it again.
“Well then, Michelangelo...” Leonardo looked his brother in the eye. “Truth or dare?”
He could see Mikey’s thoughts flowing, bravery and fear, shyness and... “Truth.” ...something that made him look away. Yes, he’d ask that.
“Why, in the last couple of weeks,” Leonardo began, feeling more certain and justified with each word, “have you been giving me strange looks and making comments that can’t be explained other than you’re hitting on me?”
Michelangelo’s blue eyes were enticing, just as his vodka bottle. “That’s because...” Complete silence. “I have been hitting on you.”
Leonardo bowed his head and listened to the rustling as his brothers looked at each other. Michelangelo had been hitting on him. Right.
His mouth was dry. “I see,” he whispered and it sounded very loud. Leonardo kept his head bowed. More rustling could be heard.
“Dude, you’re not like, gonna say anything?” a cornered subtone in Michelangelo’s voice.
“...No. What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something like, I love you too?” an uncertain laugh that died out too fast.
Leonardo watched his hands. Did he?
“Spin the bottle. Don’t keep the game waiting,” he said finally. They all knew that he was struggling not to choke on the words.
And then Michelangelo’s hand reached for the vodka bottle and spun it.
“Donnie. Truth or dare?” Leonardo noticed that the same was happening to Michelangelo.
Donatello sighed. “Dare?” he asked with a smile in his voice. Leonardo appreciated that he was encouraging Michelangelo to pose an insidious task.
“Hmm. Alright. I dare you to, I dare you to... I know!” Leonardo raised his had at the merry tone. “I dare you to explain to me the theory of relatives... while standing on your head!”
Raphael laughed sincerely and Leonardo and Michelangelo joined at once. Michelangelo didn’t fail, this dare was absurd.
“Explain to you the theory of relativity while standing on my head?” Donatello repeated, trying to buy some time for his alcohol slowed brain. “Is it a condition that you understand?”
“Yeah,” Michelangelo nodded mock-seriously. Donatello groaned so painfully that it made them burst out laughing.
“And I have to stand on my head, so I can’t make notes and sketches?”
“Yuh-huh.” Michelangelo’s eyes began to tear up from the exertion of trying not to giggle.
“The general one or the special one?”
“The special one. Because I’m special.”
Donatello groaned one more time and proceeded to stand on his head. “So, you know what light is,” he started dutifully. Leonardo and Raphael couldn’t stop snickering, and Michelangelo seemed to have a particularly hard time keeping a straight face.
“Yeah. It’s what goes out of the lamps. And what the ninjas should avoid,” Michelangelo said so candidly that Leo considered rolling on his shell and laughing out loud. The ghost of awkwardness was being exorcised by mad cackle.
“Basically, yes. And light is made up of very small particles called photons. You can imagine them as miniature fireflies that fly straight away from their light source.”
“I get it,” Michelangelo nodded diligently.
“So there have been many experiments, and they all led to the same thing. That the light speed doesn’t change. It’s constant, about 300 000 km/h.”
Michelangelo gasped. “That’s a lot! And I thought that Raph drove too fast when he pulled a 250 on the Shellcycle,” he said, wide-eyed. Leonardo remembered the peace of his master and tried to keep it down, however, Michelangelo’s hyped up interest pulled him back into the snares of laughter in no time.
“Yes. It’s a real lot,” Donatello agreed, obviously happy that the lesson was going well so far. “Now as I was saying, the speed of light...”
“How much more tuning would the Shellcycle need to reach the speed of light?” Michelangelo interrupted him all of the sudden, the eager look on his face priceless. Donatello spluttered, taken aback:
“I-it can’t. I was going to say this but it can’t. It’s physically impossible.”
“Master Splinter used to tell me I was impossible and that doesn’t mean I ain’t here!”
Donatello’s face was dark from intoxicated blood rushing in. “That’s another thing,” he tried to explain. “What master Splinter was trying to say was that you don’t follow the way of the ninja...”
“I follow!” Michelangelo cried out and rolled forward, standing up on his hands. “I’m the stealthiest, lethalest and best-looking ninja of you all!” He took a few steps forward, carefully avoiding his bottle, and glared Donatello right in the face. “I’ll show you impossible!” He balanced himself on the head and then spun around so quickly that his limbs flew everywhere, kicking Raphael in the face, Donatello in the crotch, and making everyone cower as he kept spinning like some breakdance star.
“Go Mikey! Go Mikey!” he yelled cheerfully until Raphael caught him by the ankle and lifted him in the air. Then, he shrieked.
“Shut up!” Raphael roared and Leonardo remembered that he was drunk as well. “You give Donnie a dare and then don’t even let him finish it! You little good-for-nothing can’t-obey-the-rules idiot!” and he shook Michelangelo roughly.
Leonardo jumped to his feet as Michelangelo screamed “Leo, save me!” and went to the rescue. While he was trying to convince Raphael not to shake Michelangelo out of his shell, he noticed that Donatello was lying on the ground idly, muttering under his breath and having good time with Mike’s vodka. When he finally succeded and Michelangelo collapsed dizzily, the bottle was nearly empty. Leonardo snatched it away from Donatello (“Leoo, I’m trying to ruminate here...”) and hid it behind his shell.
“Guys, get a grip. Shouldn’t we stop playing already? Don’s nearly out and Raph, you aren’t controlling yourself anymore.” Raphael grumbled and squatted down next to Donatello.
“Donnie,” he poked him. “Hey. Game’s on. Your turn too.”
“Really?” Donatello raised his head. “Oh. You’re right.” He grunted and sat up. “Where’s the bottle?” he demanded.
“Guys, I really think we should stop now,” Leonardo tried but was silenced by triple disapproval. “Alright,” he sighed and passed the bottle to Donatello who spun it clumsily, humming an unfamiliar tune.
“Raaphie,” he called out with the same wide innocent smile that had preceded “Do you love your swords?” “Sooo, do tell... truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Raphael said firmly.
“Weeell...” Donatello grinned. “How about you... let me drink that Jack that I brought...”
“Don, I told you to be careful with the alcohol,” Leonardo protested.
“...Be quiet Leo, it’s rude to interrupt somebody,” Donatello frowned. “I said, I wanna drink that Jack I’ve brought... out of your mouth. How does that sound Raph?”
“Messy,” Michelangelo said and wrinkled his snout. Leonardo’s heart started beating faster as Raphael grew a grin similar to Don’s and churred: “Can do.” He reached for the whiskey and opened the lid.
Leonardo turned away and wished he couldn’t hear the slurping and chuckling noises the two made. His sight was caught by Michelangelo’s glinting eyes. The turtle was regarding his brothers with perverted interest, and when he saw that Leonardo was looking at him, he winked at him and licked his lips.
Leonardo turned his head to the other side, wishing he’d never looked away. The sight of Raphael and Donatello exchanging fluids was still slightly better than having Michelangelo plant images into his brain. He looked up when the wet noises stopped. Raphael was closing the whiskey bottle and setting it aside.
“And the bottle is spun,” he announced (a little bit distractedly). “Okay, so it’s spun again,” he said when it pointed at him. “And again,” he added disbelievingly. “...Shell, what’s wrong with this thing?”
Leonardo caught Donatello’s amused glance. The genius shrugged and smiled. Leonardo wasn’t convinced. After all, Don’d had a lot of time to mess with the vodka when Leo was pacifying Raphael. Maybe he hadn’t only drunk from it.
“It doesn’t work!” Raphael complained as he got the same result over and over again.
“The bottle must love you,” Michelangelo commented, watching his efforts with slight fascination.
“I don’t think so,” Raphael grumbled. “Whatever.”
Before Leonardo could stop him, he opened it and emptied the last of its content. “There. If it doesn’t work now... then fuck this, we’ll use another one.” And he threw the bottle over his head, where it shattered sadly.
“Raph!” Leonardo cried out. “Do you realise what you’ve just done?”
“What?” Raphael looked over his shoulder. “Yeah yeah. I’ll clean it in the morning.”
“Someone might step on it in the night!”
“Then they’ll go see Donnie or whatever! It’s not like it can hurt us,” Raphael stated. It was true, the skin on their feet was very thick from going barefoot all the time. But Leonardo still wasn’t happy with having shards of glass lying around, waiting to draw blood. They could hurt master Splinter!
“First thing in the morning,” he reminded him then, dissatisfied.
“Sure,” Raphael said and spun his new Jack Daniel’s.
“Shell, me again!” Michelangelo exclaimed and looked frightfully at Raphael who was smirking darkly.
“Mikey...” the hot-head purred. “Truth or dare?”
“Oh man,” Michelangelo moved nervously. “Truth, I guess.”
Raphael laughed lowly. “Who was your first?”
Michelangelo goggled at him. “My f...” Then he blushed so darkly that Leonardo leaned forward in interest. This didn’t go unnoticed by Raphael.
“See how eager Fearless is?” he whispered to Donatello, and Don smiled and nodded, making Leonardo lean back again and frown slightly.
“I... I didn’t really...” Michelangelo stuttered helplessly. “I’ve never... yet...”
“You mean you’re still a virgin?” Raphael questioned.
“Yes...” Michelangelo said in an unusually small voice. When Raphael threw his head back and laughed, Leonardo felt a wave of disgust and sympathy go through him. He glowered at Raphael until Don nudged him to stop laughing. Raphael caught his angry look and smirked.
“Oh please Leo. Don’t tell me you’ll stand behind him now. The last time I noticed, you were kinda mad at him for hitting on you,” he sneered.
“That doesn’t mean I won’t step up if you make fun of him. This is cruel Raphael. Unnecessary and cruel. You have no business whatsoever with Mike’s private life, so back off.”
“That’s what this game’s for,” Raphael bared his teeth. “I can ask whatever I want and he’s got to answer. That’s why it’s called truth or dare. He chose the truth after all.”
“That’s why I hate this game,” Leonardo said icily. Raphael glared at him with a lopsided challenging smirk. Leonardo was beginning to wonder if he’d overdone it.
“Cool it guys,” Donatello’s voice pulled them down from the fight. Leonardo looked at Donnie. Although he was pretty drunk himself, he still managed to keep a serious face that calmed them both. Leonardo and Raphael looked at each other for the last time, Raphael snorted quietly and the danger was over.
“Thanks Leo,” Michelangelo mumbled.
“No problem,” Leonardo smiled at him. Michelangelo nodded and, as if completely lost in thought, reached out for the whiskey bottle. Gazing somewhere between Leonardo and Donatello, he felt around blindly until there was an irritated growl:
“What are you doing Mikey?”
Michelangelo twitched and finally looked at his hand. It was tugging Raphael’s foot.
“Oh sh-shell, sorry!” Michelangelo apologised quickly, shaken out of his reverie. He grabbed the true bottle and spun it.
It stopped facing Leonardo. The ninja looked at Michelangelo expectantly, waiting for the “Truth or dare?” question. But Mikey didn’t ask. Instead he seemed to be daydreaming again. The three brothers looked at each other with question marks on their faces and Donatello lifted his hand to prod Michelangelo. Before he did however, Mike opened his mouth and whispered softly: “You mean that?”
Leonardo was slightly confused (and beginning to smell something fishy). “What? ...That it’s no problem? Yeah, sure. It’s my job to protect the three of you.” He felt suspicious as he watched Michelangelo form a shy pleased smile.
“That’s nice...” he said dreamily and dropped his eyes. “So... you won’t mind if I dare you to kiss me?”
Leonardo jerked and quickly revised his opinions. Thinking fast, he objected: “But I didn’t choose dare.”
Donatello shook his head. “You’ve picked truth three times. You have to do dare now.”
“I did?”
Are you gay? Who did you think would be the leader? Do you love your swords?
“...I guess I did.” Shell.
“So you’ve got to do it,” Michelangelo reminded him, gaining his ground by every second. Leonardo, seeing no way out, resigned to his fate with little twitching in his left eye. “Alright,” he sighed, leaned over to Michelangelo and pecked him on the forehead.
“Dude, the shell?”
Leonardo looked around to be met with a wave of dissent.
“I meant on the lips,” Michelangelo sulked.
“You told me...”
“He did Leo,” Donatello took his side. “We all think so.”
“Yeah,” Raphael nodded. Leonardo looked back at Michelangelo, slightly disconcerted that not only he’d have to do it again, but on the lips this time.
“You’re overvoted,” Michelangelo told him. Leonardo couldn’t object to that. He braced himself, closed his eyes and went blindly for Michelangelo’s mouth.
It wasn’t that bad. He bumped into Michelangelo’s snout at first but his brother quickly tilted his head and connected them. Leonardo didn’t linger. He pulled away after a moment or two and gazed at Michelangelo who was grinning stupidly but happily.
“That was sweet,” Raphael commented. Leonardo immediately felt a little worse and sat back without hesitation.
“Hey, wait a second,” Michelangelo said, a ghost of a scowl flying over his face. (Leonardo believed he was generally just too happy to frown right now.) “Again.”
“No way, I completed my dare and it’s now my turn to spin.”
“No, it isn’t,” Donatello said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve chosen truth three times in a row. You have to do two dares now.”
“There’s a rule like that?!”
“There is. Don’t you remember we used to play it this way?”
“...Yeah.”
Leonardo cursed himself. He had been doing it wrong from the very beginning! He should have stepped up and not just go with the flow. Now look what he was supposed to do.
“See?” Michelangelo’s voice chirped and introduced him to the familiar pain of failure.
“Alright...” Leonardo mumbled and returned to facing his dear brother. Michelangelo was beaming like the sun. Leonardo sighed and convinced himself that he’s got to do it.
He should have stopped by now.
He should really have stopped by now.
Why wasn’t he stopping?
“Finally,” he heard Raphael’s contented grumble.
He didn’t want to stop.
Pulling Michelangelo closer, Leonardo reassessed his approach to life. This wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought. It felt good. It felt really good.
“Guys, get a room,” Donatello chuckled and prodded Leonardo. The turtle reluctantly let go of Michelangelo and stood back. He watched his brother pant and felt strangely satisfied. Like he’d accomplished something he’d been working on for a long time.
“Sooo Leo, you’ve finally caught up, huh?” Raphael smirked at him.
“What do you mean, ‘caught up’?” Leonardo found out that he was out of breath and that his voice sounded weird. Turned on. Well shell.
“You’ve finally realised what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Oh you don't say,” said Raphael. “One moment you’re the mother of all prudes and the next you’re on top of Mikey and you don’t even know it.”
Leonardo clicked his tongue. Raphael grinned, knowing he was right.
“Spin the bottle Leo. It’s your turn after all.”
Leonardo eyed the whiskey. For some reason, it didn’t look half as enticing as Michelangelo’s vodka. “Fine,” he said and spun it. “Don.”
“Yuh-huh?” Donatello smiled. His eyelids were heavy but he fought the fatique bravely.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Donatello said simply.
“Have you planned this?”
Donatello cast him a long glance. His eyes flickered to Michelangelo who was silently happy. “No,” he said finally. “I never saw this coming.”
Then he spun the bottle. “Raph. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Raphael chose, and Leonardo noticed that he was looking at Michelangelo fondly. Like a mother at a child that had finally managed something. He wondered how long his brothers had known that Michelangelo “had the hots for him”.
“I dare you to come to my bed with me,” Donatello said invitingly.
“Heh, looks like you really are getting someone down to your bed tonight Donnie,” Michelangelo spoke up, grinning.
“Looks like I am,” Donatello nodded, getting up. “You two should head somewhere as well. It’s getting late.”
Leonardo checked the clock on the wall. No, it wasn’t. But he wasn’t going to dispute.
“Good night,” Raphael and Donatello wished and left in the direction of Donatello’s room. Leonardo could hear Raphael saying: “You knew this was gonna happen! Didn’t you?” and Donatello answering: “I didn’t. I honestly didn’t.” Leonardo chuckled quietly.
“Hey Leo...” Michelangelo whispered. “Does this mean that you’re with me now?”
“Maybe,” Leonardo smiled and got up.
“Where are you going?” Michelangelo asked.
“I don’t really trust Raph to clean this mess first thing in the morning,” Leonardo confessed and went to get a broom.
“Can I help?”
Leonardo figured that Michelangelo was trying to behave nice (and out of character) to increase his sympathies and hide the fact that Leo had done something majorly weird as well. “No thanks,” he said. “You can go do something about that whiskey though. Like pour it down the toilet.”
“Whaat? No way! Raph and Don would kill me if they found out! You don’t know how treasured spirit is in here,” Michelangelo refused.
“And I intend to keep it that way,” Leonardo assured him. “Drinking alcohol is bad for you. Just look at Don. ‘Do you love your swords?’ my shell. He’d never say something like that if he were sober.”
Michelangelo snickered. “You’ve got to admit that was fun.”
“It was embarrassing,” Leonardo corrected him. “It’s one thing to make fun of a brother and another to make fun of his beloved katanas. They saved my life on multiple occasions. Yours too,” he reminded him. “They deserve respect.”
He thought that Michelangelo had got the message but... “Leo bro, I don’t wanna be rude but that sounded like you really do sleep with them,” Michelangelo said, chuckling.
Leonardo felt a rush of blood to the head. Kissing or not, Michelangelo didn’t know a thing about the relationship he and his katanas had! He was about to retort very coldly when he realised what he’d thought. Relationship with his katanas?
Objectively speaking, his brothers were entirely right.
“I guess,” Leonardo sighed and continued sweeping.
“Maybe I could hide it somewhere,” Michelangelo speculated, holding the whiskey bottle against the light.
“Speaking of hiding alcohol, just where did you keep that vodka bottle?” Leonardo made use of the opportunity.
“You’d love to know that, wouldn’t you?” Michelangelo laughed. “No way bro. No way.”
“I see,” Leonardo said, already planning another break into Michelangelo’s room. His brother ran off to somewhere, leaving Leo alone to wonder what Michelangelo had done to his resolve to stay out of the brother-loving-brother business. He got so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Mike sneeking up on him.
“Cowabunga!” Leonardo jerked but didn’t react in time. Suddenly, he was under Michelangelo. He tried to throw him off but the first attempt failed and the second never came to be. Michelangelo had sucked himself to Leonardo’s lips.
Leo’s eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned despite himself. Michelangelo took this as a permission to move on to the next stage, and Leonardo found his hands all over him and his knee inbetween his legs. While his body enjoyed this very much, Leonardo’s mind began to panic. He fought back with vigour that surprised Michelangelo so much that he forgot to hold him down, and was swiftly kicked off.
“Leo, what the shell?” Michelangelo groaned, getting up from the floor. Leonardo also got up and took a step back, eyeing his brother warily. “What did you do that for, huh?” Then, Michelangelo realised what a defensive stance Leonardo was taking. “...Oh. Sh-shell. Leo, I- I’m sorry, I... I didn’t realise...” And for his step forward, Leonardo compensated with another step backward. Michelangelo stopped, looking at him helplessly.
“Not so fast,” Leonardo forced out of himself. Michelangelo nodded rapidly, still looking at him for advice what to do now. Leonardo sighed. “Go take a shower or something, okay? I’ll finish this up...”
“Okay,” Michelangelo agreed and left for the bathroom. Leonardo watched his shell and then the door until he heard the water running. Only then did he sigh again and go back to sweeping the floor.
He hated losing control like this.
“Too fast, huh?” a deep voice sounded. Leonardo’s head shot up – Raphael was looking down at him from Donatello’s room.
“I guess. Why aren’t you with Don?”
“He’s sleeping like a log. Been since the moment he hit the bed. I heard some fighting so I went to check it.” Raphael shrugged and looked intently at Leonardo. “Are you okay?”
Such caring tone took Leonardo by surprise. “Yeah,” he said uneasily. “Hey Raph... How was it when you... started being with a brother?”
Raphael was silent for a while. “That’s a story for another time,” he said finally. “Just don’t let Mike use ya. Tell him when you don’t like something, and he’ll stop.” Leonardo wasn’t so sure about that but said nothing. “And don’t make much noise, master Splinter hates that.”
“Shell, master Splinter... How am I ever going to explain this to him?” Leonardo groaned.
“Heh, don’t worry about him. He’ll let you be. He let us be,” Raphael assured him.
“...Thanks Raph.”
“Don’t mention it.” On the way back to Donatello’s room, Raphael looked over his shoulder. “And you know what would make Mikey over the moon? If you let him sleep in your room tonight. You don’t even have to let him under the quilt. Or in the bed for that matter,” he chuckled, disappearing into Don’s room.
Leonardo finished up the cleaning and sat on the couch to think about Raphael’s advice. That was where Michelangelo found him.
“I took a shower,” he said. Leonardo looked at him and indeed, Michelangelo was sparkling clean and smelled of soap.
“Good,” he mumbled and suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off of the blank TV screens.
“Wanna watch something?”
“It won’t hurt...”
Michelangelo sat down next to him and picked a channel. Leonardo didn’t pay attantion to the movie as he was distracted by thoughts flowing through his mind and strangely, also by Michelangelo’s presence. In half of an action scene, his hand extended as if it was moving on its own will, and pulled Michelangelo’d head into his lap. Mike settled there happily and didn’t try anything more.
Leonardo must have fallen asleep, for he couldn’t remember the movie’s end at all.

Aspoň že je přes všechno to ML Leo pořád takový psychopat... zpátky na fanfikce.