A Reptile Dysfunction

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Literature Text

A Reptile Dysfunction

Entry for :icontmnt-fan-group:'s Valentine's ABC contest.  I got P: Passion.
Summary: Mikey inadvertently creates a love potion that has the whole team hot and bothered.

Ingredients: 2012 turtles, flour, sugar, aphrodisiacs, Casey Jones, eggs, April O'Neil, passion fruit juice (from concentrate); corny, syrupy puns

ALLERGY WARNING: May contain traces of sexual situations, foul language, T-Cest, Apritello, Leo/Raph and Crack-ships (Jonangelo)

Rating: T; nothing explicit.
Hugs to mysteryred1, who I think I stole the title from. ^^;


Casey scrubbed a finger into his eye as he followed April into the lair.  He yawned, making sure she heard how displeased he was about being awake at this unreasonable hour.  “Why the heck are we here so early, Red?  Can’t we just have pancakes for dinner or something?  Later?”

“It’s 10:45… it’s already ‘later!’”

The boy gave her a sour look.  “Saturdays are for sleepin’ in!  Gettin’ up before noon is a crime against humanity!”

“You need to be here for this, trust me.  Mikey’s pancakes are the best thing ever,” she told him, dragging him to the turtles’ kitchen by his wrist.  “ ’Morning, guys!” she called to the three turtles already seated at their concrete-slab table and the one manning (turtling?) the stovetop.

“Good morning, April, Casey!” Leo greeted.

Donatello hopped to his feet, scooting his chair out of the way to make room for the one April dragged over to sit beside him.  “Glad you could make it,” he grinned at her adoringly.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” she replied, returning the smile.

Raphael shifted his own stool over, closer to Leonardo, to make room for his friend.  He made it a point to turn as much of his shell to his blue-banded brother as possible.  “Hey, Case.  You’re up early, ain’t ya?” he teased.

Casey groaned.  “Red didn’t want me to miss out on Mikey’s ‘culinary excellence.’”  He made air-quotes with his fingers before flopping his arms down on the table and resting his face on them.

Raph aimed a wry smirk at him.  “She’s doin’ you a bigger favor than you know.  Mikey makes a damn good pancake.”

“Language,” Leo reprimanded, earning him a bitter over-the-shoulder glare from the offending brother.  “Your face is going to stick like that,” he warned in a lighter tone, which only made Raph grind his teeth and turn away, seething.

“So what makes these the be-all and end-all of pancakes anyway?” the teen vigilante murmured blearily, not taking his face from his arm.

Mikey turned part-way around to grin at him as he flipped the cake currently in the frying pan.  “It’s my own recipe.  I make ‘em from scratch, with a special secret ingredient!”  He leaned toward the table and held the back of a hand up to his mouth, whispering, “The secret ingredient is love!”

Don crossed his arms critically.  “It’s not a secret ingredient if you tell us what it is!” he pointed out.

Unfazed, the sunny chef continued on.  “And, since it’s coming up on Valentine’s Day, I made some special syrup from passion fruit… the fruit of passion!”

“Do you get any cornier?” Raph complained.  Mikey blew a raspberry at him as he flipped the last of the pancakes out of the pan.

“Aww, I think it’s sweet,” April said.  “Thanks for making us all breakfast, by the way, Mikey.”

Mikey beamed.  “And that’s why April gets hers first!”  He set down a plate heaping with the flapjacks and the little pot of orange syrup in front of her.

“Yay!”  She clapped her hands in glee while the others, save Casey, all groaned in disappointment.  Mikey continued serving clockwise from April: Donatello received his next, followed by Leo, then Raphael, then Casey.  Finally, he sat down with his own plate at the foot of the table, between Don and Leo, and set the remaining hotcakes in the middle of the table.  The syrup had already bypassed him, Leo finishing up with it and passing it on to Raph, but that was fine.  There was plenty, and he could wait.  Unfortunately, Raph set it down in front of Casey, who had to be coaxed out of napping with an elbow, so it could be a while.

April had inhaled half of her portion by the time Casey sat up and started smearing butter on his stack.  She let out an indulgent moan, eyes rolling back in her head.  “God, these are soooo delicious!”

Donatello, predictably, had eaten a precise wedge out of his pancakes, but he was otherwise absorbed with the kunoichi’s every movement.  “Yeah, they are…” the enamored turtle said dreamily, but unerringly skewered a bite of syrup-covered pancake on his fork without so much as glancing at his plate.  “Here, try some of mine, see if they’re any better.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed at his rival across the table as he drizzled Mikey’s specialty syrup across his own stack of flapjacks, his expression changing from jealousy and disgust to one of fascination as he watched April accept the offered bite by sticking her tongue out to capture and sensually pull the forkful into her mouth.  Another elbow-jab to the ribs from Raph made him realize he’d frozen in place while pouring the syrup, and was still dripping it on his now near-overflowing plate. 

“Casey… yo, Casey!” Mikey tried to get his attention from the other end of the table.  “You done with that?  Pass it back, man!”

The human teen set the syrup pot down and slid it down the table in an irritated gesture, not taking his eyes from Don and April, who weren’t taking their eyes from each other.  They were so glued on each other, Casey wondered if he’d missed something… if he’d been shut out.  Surely April would have mentioned something of that vein, though, right?  He tried to recall if she’d said something on the way over.  He’d been so bleary, he didn’t remember all of what she’d said, but it didn’t seem to have been anything out of the ordinary… corny horror movies, an attack  by the Kraang, some contraption Don had been working on…  No, nothing of note there.

Mikey made a disappointed sound.  “Man, you guys went through a lot!  No problemo… there’s more.  Time for a little refill…”

“This is really good, Mikey,” Leo mumbled through a mouthful.

“Pity the view over here is more sickeningly sweet than the syrup!” Raph added, a bit bitterly, turning his head as far from watching Don and April touching foreheads and feeding one another as he possibly could.  “What, are you two on your honeymoon or something?”

Neither answered him.  Neither looked like they had even heard him.  “Oh, you’ve got a little syrup on your lip…” Don commented to her.

“Where?” she asked, pulling back slightly, trying to find it by licking the corners of her mouth.

Donnie swiped a finger through the pool of syrup on his plate.  “Right…”  He dabbed the sticky concoction right in the middle of her Cupid’s bow.  “…there.”  She giggled, and he aimed a wolfish smile at her in return.  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”  He swiped his upper lip over hers, drawing her into a string of kisses that she certainly wasn’t protesting.

Casey dropped his fork on the table, food still untouched.  “I think I lost my appetite.”

Apparently the teen vigilante wasn’t the only one who had had enough, though.  Mikey stared as he ladled syrup into the syruper.  Raph glared.  “Guys, no public displays of affection at the table,” Leo stated perfunctorily, not sparing the kissing couple a glance as he continued to eat.

“Seriously, you two,” Raph added.  “Get a room.”

Don opened an eye and slowly pulled away from April’s lips, considering the prospect.  “That’s not a bad idea!”  He slid off his stool and gathered April up in his arms.  She grabbed both of their plates.

“Maybe a little breakfast in bed?”

He nuzzled her ear approvingly and rumbled lowly in it, “And then I’ll have you for dessert!”

She hummed and raised her eyebrows as though she liked the sound of that.  The two disappeared from the kitchen before the matter could be disputed.

The hot-blooded brother tossed his hands in the air at them.  “The hell was that?!”

“Language!” Leo repeated in an even more chiding tone.  Raphael whirled on him hotly, having had enough of Mr. High and Mighty this morning.

“You can take your ‘language’ and shove it right up your ass, Leo!  Not everybody has to be perfect like you, ya know!”

The blue-banded leader regarded him coolly, brows furrowing only slightly.  “It’s a matter of etiquette and respect, and you—“  He stopped mid-lecture in realization.  “Did you just say I’m perfect?”

Raph backpedaled.  “Yeah, well—I mean… NO!  You just freakin’ piss me off so much all the time, I—“  But he didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Leo darted forward, capturing his brother’s mouth with his own.  Raph’s arms flailed for a second before his hands found Leo’s bicep and the back of his head, forcing him closer as he exhaled and drew a sharp, hissing breath through his nose.  He surged forward, throwing his elder brother off balance as Leo attempted the same, and the two toppled from their chairs to the floor where the make-out session continued, as well as some heavy petting, judging from the moans the two of them occasionally emitted.

“Well, that’s not totally awkward or anything…”  Casey looked on, rather dumbfounded, then shrugged.  “Always knew those two had a thing for each other… They fight like an old married couple,” he said, lifting his first bite toward his mouth, only to have the fork smacked out of his hand.  He blinked up at the attacker.  “…Mikey?!  The heck, man?!”

“Don’t eat it!!”

The human teen scowled.  Woken up early, having to watch his rival take off with his potential girl, this weird shit with Raph and Leo, then being told not to eat the breakfast he was forced to come here for?!  It was too much for Casey’s temper.  He growled, mirroring one of Raph’s temper tantrums.  “What the hell are you talking about?!” he ground out through gritted teeth.

To his credit, the youngest of the brothers did not back down.  “The syrup!” he exclaimed.  “I think… I think I made a love potion or something!”

That had to be the dumbest thing Casey had ever heard, even considering some of the stupid things he’d said himself.  But then, from the floor, Leo made a rumbling noise Casey had never heard any of the turtles make before.  Mikey apparently recognized it for what it was, though, and suddenly went bright red.  He motioned desperately for them to leave the kitchen ASAP.  Casey had to concede the point, and he and Michelangelo slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the two turtles fornicating on the floor.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man…” Mikey fretted as the two of them entered the pit.  Casey threw himself back on a bench, but the orange-banded turtle could only pace the floor.  “What am I gonna do?!  I turned all my brothers and April into crazed sex-fiends!  Master Splinter’s gonna kill me…”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know,” Casey tried.

The turtle waved his arms above his head.  “Of course he’s gonna know, dude!  He’s Master Splinter!  He’s, like, omni-reminiscent or something!”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” the boy considered.

“I don’t know… one of those big words Donnie uses…”

Casey waved his hands to catch Mikey’s attention.  “Hear me out… What if it wears off?  Syrup’s basically sugar, and sugar burns off pretty quick… What if all we have to do is sit down and wait it out?”

“So… we don’t do anything, and Splinter doesn’t know?”  Casey gave a single wry nod.  Mikey grinned slyly.  “I like this plan!”

“Video games?”

“You’re on!”


It had been four hours.

Playing video games had long ago become tiresome, especially since every grunt and scream of pleasure from the bedrooms—Raph and Leo had relocated after about an hour and a half on the kitchen floor to cushier mattress space—could be heard in the living area; the lair was most definitely not soundproofed.  Mike and Casey sat by, rather guiltily, as the two couples only continued to get it on.  How Master Splinter had not heard or been disrupted from his meditation by the cacophony of passion, they’d never know.  Or perhaps he did hear, and was, like the two of them, laying low until the matter sorted itself out.

Except that it didn’t seem to be resolving itself in any timely manner.

“Aaaaahh, Donnie!  Aaaa~aaaa!” 

Casey gave an irritated, defeated sigh, pulling a scrap of paper out from the couch cushions and making a mark on it with the pencil tucked behind his ear.  “That’s an even ten for April.  The girl’s insatiable!” he said evenly, but not without a hint of jealousy.

Moments later, April’s cry was followed by a stream of pleasured swearing from Leo’s room.  “Ohhh, fuck!  Jesus!  Shit!”

“Language!” Leo’s taunting voice followed.

“Sounds like Raph’s bottoming again,” Mikey mumbled, not taking his chin from his hand, elbow leaned on his lap. 

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘language’ like you never heard, Fearless…  Get over here…”

The human teen made another mark on the paper, then tucked it back into the couch.  He huffed.  “How long could they possibly be at it?!”

“Maybe the syrup isn’t out of their systems yet?”

“That must be some high-octane syrup…” 

“How long is digestion supposed to take, anyway?”

Casey jerked his head toward Don’s door.  “Turtle Nye, the Science Guy, is in there.  Why don’tcha go ask him?”

“Dude, I’m not going in there while they’re… ya know.”

The boy’s stomach picked that moment to let out an enormous growl, an almost welcome distraction.  “Guess I skipped breakfast in all the… er, excitement.  I could eat Newark at this point…”  He rose to his feet, heading back to the kitchen.

“There’s still some pancakes,” Mikey advised, “Just don’t use any of the—“

“I know, I know… steer clear of the syrup.  Ya got any plain maple?”

“Top cabinet on the left.”

Casey reappeared a minute later, throwing himself back into his spot on the sofa with a heap of pancakes on the plate on his lap.  He vigorously sawed them into uneven hunks, shoveling them into his mouth.  “Y’mow,” he said through a mouthful, spraying a few syrupy crumbs, “f’r all dis mefs… April waf wight.  Dese’re fome damn tafty pamcakes, Mike.”

“Thanks,” Mikey answered flatly, somewhat lost in thought.  He’d made that syrup himself.  He’d tasted it numerous times throughout the process of making it, and nothing like this had happened with him!  But then, no one else had been around… could that have been it?

He ignored the casual, probably accidental brush of Casey’s leg against his own.  He paid no attention to the clink of the fork and plate being set on the arm of the sofa.  But he couldn’t ignore how close Casey’s face suddenly was to his own.  He leaned back slightly to get away, but that gapped smile just followed him.  “I’ve got some bad news, Mike…” he said breathily, slinging an arm around the lime-green terrapin.

“W-what’s that?” he asked cautiously. 

“The love potion?”  Casey walked his fingers across Mikey’s thigh and up his plastron.  The little turtle froze.  “I don’t think it was the syrup.”  He stuck his tongue out, dragging it up Mikey’s neck as the mutant shuddered.  “Made with love, right?”

Mikey’s eyes went even wider.  “Oh, fffffffffffffflapjacks!”  He flailed about as Casey pounced on him.  “MASTER SPLINTER!!!!”


Splinter’s fingers rested on his temple, where they would likely remain for a very long time.  After prying the impassioned Mr. Jones from his youngest son, and making the threat of pressure-pointing him into a coma perfectly clear, Michelangelo had spilled his guts to him about the whole hotcake debacle.  Raphael and Leo, Don and April were apparently still at it, mewls and moans of pleasure periodically issuing from the bedrooms.  The ninjutsu master had a good mind to burst in on the two couples and pressure-point them all unconscious, but figured at this juncture, any damage had already been done, and perhaps it was best to allow the horny teens to continue burning the laced carbohydrates out of their systems; the sooner, the better.

He noticed Casey sneakily scootching back toward Mikey, inch by inch, hoping not to be noticed. “Perhaps, Mr. Jones, it is time for you to return home.”

“Sensei, wait!” Michelangelo asserted.  “Maybe that’s not such a good idea…”

Splinter sighed, almost afraid of the explanation he was about to ask for.  He continued to rub his temple.  “And why is that?”

Mikey lowered his voice to keep Casey from hearing.  “Casey’s got a little sister at home.  What if… what if this attraction thingie isn’t just a love-at-first-sight deal?  I don’t wanna put her in danger…”  It was creepy enough that Casey Jones was coming on to him, but the thought of the teen possibly molesting his younger sister didn’t sit well with him; he’d rather have Casey continuing to feel him up than risk him being a pedo.

Splinter nodded his understanding.  He turned back to the human.  “Or perhaps not.  It might be best if you remain here with us, so that we may monitor your condition until the effects have worn off, assuming they will.  In the meantime…”  He turned his focus back to Michelangelo.  “Show me exactly what you put in these pancakes.  Perhaps if we know the source, we can find a solution.”

Casey caught up as soon as Mikey stood to follow Splinter to the kitchen, wrapping an arm around the turtle’s shell.  “Dude, you talked Splinter into letting me stay!  I knew you loved me!” he said, fondling Mikey’s neck.

Mikey threw his head back in exasperation as he walked.  “Oh, just kill me!!” he wailed to the fates tormenting him.


“Let’s see…  Flour.  Sugar.  Baking powder.  Eggs...” Mikey listed the ingredients from memory, setting each on the counter for Splinter’s perusal.  “A pinch of salt.  Dash of cinnamon, dash of nutmeg.”  So far, everything seemed perfectly normal.  Michelangelo held up a little white jar.   “Oh, and some of this.  It has hearts on it, so I was a little generous with it…”

Splinter jolted at the realization.  “You put an unknown substance in your brothers’ food without checking what it was first?!” the rat mutant boomed at him.

Mikey flinched back, tripping over an outstretched foot and falling right into Casey’s waiting arms.  Puckered lips were heading swiftly for his own, but Mikey managed to insert a hand between himself and his would-be lover and shoved his face away.  “It was in my spice rack!” Mikey said with a grunt, still fighting to keep Casey off him.  “I thought maybe April brought it with the groceries and put it there for me.”

“Oh, uhm…” Casey interjected meekly, prying his attention away from Michelangelo for a moment.  “That one might be on me and Raph…  See, Donnie was bringing in a box of old medicines and stuff he was going to throw out, and Raph and I happened to come in at the same time while we were playing football—“

“—which I have specifically asked that you not do in the kitchen!” Splinter said sharply, but allowed the boy to continue.

Casey gulped, looking sheepish.  “And, well, ya know… things collided with other things, like they do… and the spice rack kinda fell off the wall and broke, and all the little jars went everywhere…”  He rolled a shoulder in an exaggerated shrug.

Mikey stared at him in shock.  “You broke my spice rack?”  He sounded so wounded.

“I-it’s fine… Donnie put it back together while Raph and I chased down all the bottles…” the human mumbled guiltily.  “That one must’ve gotten mixed in…”

“You BROKE my SPICE RACK?!” Mikey thundered at him. 

Casey backed away, looking like his world was being torn asunder.  “ ‘m sorry, babe.  I… I can get you a new one!”

Mikey merely fixed him with an icy baby-blue glare and turned away, back to Splinter.  “So, what is this mystery stuff that ended up in my—“ he whirled on Casey, “—BROKEN!—“ then quickly turned back, “spice rack?”

“A powerful aphrodisiac, in powdered form.  Korean, by the look of it.”

The young turtle scrunched his brows together.  “But Sensei… we don’t even have hair!”

The ninjutsu master suppressed a sigh.  “It causes people to become aroused.”

“Ohhh, like coffee!”

Splinter rubbed his temple again.  “No… Not like coffee…  Do you remember when we had ‘The Talk’?”

“The one about no fireworks in the lair?”

“No, the—“

“About why pigeons are not inside pets.”


“About how shuriken are not an alternative to floss?”

“Michelangelo!” Splinter shouted to get his son’s attention.  “The one about the birds and the bees.”

“Ohhh, that one!  There were less birds and bees in that one than I expected… Totally false advertising…”

“Do you remember me telling you what occasionally happens to young men?”

The little turtle was silent and blank-faced for a moment as his brain slowly processed.  “Ohhh!” he exclaimed joyfully as it came to him, and then the implications of what he’d done hit him.  “Ohhh,” he said, a tone lower and less enthused.  Then he glanced down to a groveling Casey and it turned into one of out and out dread.  “Ohhhh…”

The rat mutant sighed.  “I believe we are overdue in consulting your brother.”

Mikey looked doubtful.  “But Sensei, he and April are kind of… ya know…”

“I am well aware, but we have few other choices.  Perhaps even a disruption itself may hasten the end of this problem.”

As Splinter motioned the two along to follow, Casey once again began pleading for Mikey’s forgiveness.  “I swear, we didn’t do it on purpose, and we thought we got everything back in the right places after Donnie stuck it back together… I’m really sorry, Mike!  Please don’t hate me!”

The young turtle sighed deeply, the whole experience wearing on him.  “Look, Case… I don’t hate you—“

“Oh, thank God!” Casey breathed in relief, then suddenly draped one gangly arm over Mikey’s shoulders.  “Then maybe we can sneak off to your room and—“

Mikey shoved him away as his friend once again invaded his personal space way too closely for comfort.  “No, dude.  Stop it… That’s just the pancakes talking!”

Casey was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What do pancakes talk about?”

A smile snuck back onto the turtle’s face.  “Baseball.”


“Yeah.  They talk about who’s the best batter.”

Casey heaved a sigh, but grinned back at him.  “That was terrible…”

“Sorry… I’ll try to be more syrup-titious with the next one!”

“Booo…”  Jones groaned and chuckled.

Their laughter quickly ceased as they arrived at the door to Don’s room, the heavy breathing inside bringing them back to the rather embarrassing situation at hand.  Mikey averted his eyes from the door as Splinter threw it open.  Casey seemed to feel the same way about barging in on April, whether she was boinking his rival or not, and had also cast his gaze to the side.  The cloying reek of sex hit them all head-on.  Only the rat mutant seemed unfazed… at the very least, he wasn’t showing any sign of being perturbed by the funk.   He called out, loud and firm, as he strode into the room, interrupting Don’s running litany of, “Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, God, April, you goddess, yes…”


Donnie let out a strangled “Waaaughh!” of fear and shock, springing to his feet.  “Sensei!” he puffed, grabbing a pillow and holding it against his lower body for modesty.

“Oh!” April likewise cried out at the intrusion, sitting up and quickly yanking a sheet up to her chest with both hands, her loose hair falling down over her shoulders.

The ninjutsu master kept his detached demeanor, not so much as acknowledging their activity or state of undress.  “My son, your medical advice is needed.”

The genius turtle turned away from April with a barely audible groan, but seemed to snap out of the aphrodisiac-induced haze enough to take things seriously.  “What’s the matter?  Is someone injured?”

“Nothing so dire, thankfully.  Though you may have noticed… There seems to be a problem with this morning’s pancakes.”

“Oh?” said Don, avoiding his sensei’s gaze as much as possible.  “What… what kind of problem?”

Around him, Casey was focusing a disgruntled and envious stare on April.  She gave an embarrassed grimace as she clutched the sheet closer to herself.  She fully expected that, given how competitive he and Donnie were over her, and given what had just happened.  What she didn’t expect at all was for him to wrap his arms around Mikey, pulling him close in a jealous, protective embrace as he continued to glare at her, then press his mouth hard against the turtle’s in an aggressive kiss.  With the shoving and waving of arms that ensued on Mikey’s part, he hadn’t fully been expecting it either.

Donnie looked on in befuddlement.  “…Casey?!  What the…?!”

Splinter cleared his throat and presented the little bottle with the Korean writing and pink and red hearts on the label.  “Does this look familiar to you?”

Don gasped.  “That was supposed to be in the box of medicine I was disposing of!”  A look of dawning realization came over him.  “Oh no… I think I can guess what happened…”

Casey arched his neck away from Michelangelo for a moment.  “It was a reptile dysfunction!” he purred wryly, causing the purple-banded (albeit now bare) turtle to roll his eyes and tsk at him.

Mikey meanwhile tried to pry Casey’s limbs off of himself again.  “Would you get OFF?!  You’re like a freakin’ octopus!”  The teen only pulled him in closer, like a boa constrictor with its prey, and gave the struggling turtle a smooch on his sweet little forehead.

“More importantly, do you have anything to counteract the effects?” Splinter asked.

The team medic examined the ingredient list on the label of the little jar.  “Ehhh, it would take me longer to gather the necessary chemicals than it would for our systems to detox…  So maybe the best course is to just wait it out—“ he said, turning back to an eagerly awaiting April, who stretched out a welcoming arm toward him.

At that moment, “Raph… Raphie!  Ungh!!” wafted to them through the wall, causing the brainiac to blush and immediately reconsider.

“Or, we could just go the short route to Bonerkillsville.  And I’ll have to consider soundproofing the bedroom walls…”


Leo and Raph were currently embroiled in a deep, fervored tangle of limbs and tongues, and between their closed eyes and lack of attention for anything but one another, they didn’t immediately notice when the door opened.  That changed when their younger brother hollered, “ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!!”

“What?!?  N—!” was all Leonardo was able to get out, waving a protesting three-fingered hand at his younger brother, before they were doused with freezing cold water and ice cubes.

Both gasped as the shock of cold caused their lungs to seize up, their passion brought to an abrupt, cold, and soaking wet end.  Raph was the first to recover after a few moments of shallow gulping for air, evidenced by an immediate, powerful scream of, “MIIIIKEEEYYY!!”  Scrambling to his sluggish feet, the hothead charged after the intruder, leaving the still gasping and stunned Leo behind.


The six teens sat on the benches of the pit, none of them meeting the eyes of the others out of either guilt or shame.  Splinter stalked about in front of them.  “Does anyone have anything to say about today’s occurrence?” he queried after several moments of awkward silence.  “I realize this may not be something you wish to discuss with me.  I shall therefore return to my meditation for the next couple of hours before afternoon training, when we will review our lessons over control of both the body and mind.  I trust you six will have talked everything out by then.”  With that, the tall rat mutant left them.

Eventually, Mikey spoke up.  “Sorry about the love-potion pancakes, everybody.  I’ll stick to the basic recipe next time… no secret ingredients.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mikey… not entirely, anyway,” Don conceded.  “I should have paid more attention that only the spices got put on the spice rack after that incident.  I should have inventoried everything, but I was in a hurry because April was coming over.”

“And it’s on us that it got broken in the first place, and that Don’s box of stuff got… knocked over,” Raph added.

“’Knocked over?’  More like, went flying!” Donnie corrected with a chuckle.

“It was a pretty awesome crash, you gotta admit that…” Casey grinned.  “Like a mushroom cloud of little bottles!”

Don looked at the floor shamefully, rubbing one arm with the other.  “I’m sorry to you, too, April…  Master Splinter was right… that wasn’t very restrained on my part…”

A soft hand landed on his thigh, only causing him to blush more.  “It’s not like I was much better.  But I don’t regret it.”   He turned to look at her, speechless.  “This is… faster than I wanted our relationship to move,” she added, “but… that ship has kind of sailed now.”

“I support this ‘ship!” Mikey called from the other side of the pit.

“Ditto!” Raphel seconded.

“It’s about time, really,” Leo said.

Casey grunted.  “Oh, you’re one to talk…”

Leo’s face colored slightly and he averted his eyes in what was possibly the worst poker face ever.  “Uh… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Uh-huh,” said the vigilante with a heavy dose of skepticism.  “Anyone not knowing Leo and Raph had a thing going on, raise your hand.”

Leo’s hand went high in the air immediately.  A couple beats later, Raph’s went part-way up, but seemed to be slowly losing altitude.  If Leo was looking for an ally in his immediate younger brother, he was quickly disappointed.  But the look he cast at his brother wasn’t one of betrayal, but surprise.  “R-really?

Raph’s demeanor soured a bit.  He, too, suddenly found the floor very interesting.  “It’s… it’s not something you outright say to your brother, ya know… that you kinda have the hots for him.  Especially when that brother is a freaking boy scout and you have no idea how he or the rest of the family is going to react to the news… “

Leo kept staring at him.  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

The hot-blooded turtle shrugged nonchalantly, calmer than usual, even after the surprise icewater bath.  “Me and words don’t exactly get along.”

The team’s leader gave a little snort.  “In that case, I love you too, Raphael.”  His face fell slightly.  “But… what is Sensei gonna say about this?  We’re brothers… we shouldn’t be…”

“I think he knows,” the red-banded turtle grinned.  “He probably knew it before either of us did.  Splinter just knows these things.”

“Still… It’s wrong,” Leo protested.

“Says who?” chimed Casey.  “The billion people in your mutant social circle?”

Frustration etched Leo’s forehead, but before he could voice his concern, Don spoke up.  “If Sensei didn’t approve, he had every chance to bust in and tear you two apart.  Instead, he came to me first and sent Mikey in to douse you two.” 

“Plus he’s kind of been sneaking glances from the dojo door since we’ve been out here,” Mikey added, and the rest of the group suddenly whipped their heads in that direction.  One or two of them might have caught the slight motion as the sliding door silently scooted a final inch closed, but no one could be sure.

Casey gave a big yawn and rose to his feet.  “Well, if this soap opera is over, I’m gonna head home…  Some of us had a really effed-up day, yo.  See you guys for patrol tonight,” he said with a backward wave.

“What, aren’t ya gonna do Family Bonding Time and talk out what happened between you and Mike?” Raph called, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms, apparently miffed that Jones was skipping out on the pressure he and the rest of them had just been through.  He’d seen those guilty glances between the two.

The teen didn’t even turn, just kept walking.  “Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.  Later!”

Mikey’s brows drew together slightly.  He glanced over at Raph and Leo, who started lowly discussing what they needed to say to Splinter, then over at Don and April, busy with their own conversation.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Dad that I’m going to need to get a pregnancy test…” she fretted.  But Donnie laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“I can make one for you… he doesn’t have to know unless the results come back positive.  And if they are… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

April slipped her arms around his tall brother’s neck.  “You’re really the best, Donnie.”

The youngest turtle smiled, happy for both couples, but there were still things on his mind, so, unobserved, he slipped from the lair to follow Casey.

The young man hadn’t gotten far on his trek back through the sewers, and Mikey caught up to him within a couple minutes at a light jog.  “Casey… Wait up…”

Casey heaved a breath and turned his head in greeting.  “Hey, man.”

Mikey wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to ask.  His thoughts weren’t really coalescing into full questions.  ”Uh… you okay?”

“Fine,” the human said decisively… possibly more decisively than was necessary, which meant that ‘fine’ was far from what Casey felt at the moment.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I just said, there’s nothing’ to talk about!”

Mikey shrunk back a bit, not wanting to incur Casey’s ire, but kept pace with him as he continued to walk.  “Ya know,” he started, “funny thing about the afro-dizzy-whatsits…”

“What’s that?” Casey replied, still only looking straight ahead.

“How it worked on people who were already in love with each other.”  Casey stopped, a strange, uncertain expression on his face.  “Raph was looking at you, and at April and Donnie, and he’d already started eating, but it wasn’t ‘til he looked at Leo that it really kicked in.”

The boy turned a look of sudden comprehension on Mikey, then swung back around and continued on his way with a heavy-hearted exhale.  “Doesn’t matter if the person I’m attracted to isn’t gonna return the feelings.”

“I never said I didn’t,” replied a coy tone.

When Casey angled his head back around this time, it met with the orange-banded mutant’s smug grin.  But he wasn’t quite buying it.  “Mike… you were trying to get away from me, like, the whole day!”

“I know,” the turtle said, rocking playfully back and forth on his feet.  “You were acting weird and kinda scary and clingy as hell.  I prefer plain, unleaded Casey.”

“Clingy?” Jones repeated.

“Like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea clingy.  Like forgot to use fabric softener clingy.  Like Pepe Le Pew stalkerish clingy, dude.  Codependent much?”

Casey had to laugh at the mental images.  “Sooo… You wanna maybe hang out, go boarding tomorrow?” 

“I’m there!” Mikey beamed.

“Or maybe something a little more… intimate?” the vigilante intoned.  “Bring that passion fruit syrup… I never did get a taste of it.  And I’ve got some real interesting ideas on what to do with it.” 

Michelangelo’s brows raised in intrigue.  “You got it.”

With that, Casey seized him by the shell and hauled him over to himself for a rough kiss on the forehead.  He released him, and started climbing the ladder up to the manhole.  “See ya tomorrow, Mike!”

“Later, brah!” 

Mikey walked home wondering if he could swipe the little white jar with the hearts on it away from Donnie.  Spiking the syrup with just a little dash of it ought to make the passion fruit live up to its name, and make things with Casey real interesting.


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katstories's avatar
How have I never read this before?
Really completely and totally funny, wonderful sexiness.