Chapter Text
Watchful of Mikey distancing himself from the bedroom into the farther reaches of the three-room apartment does little to muffle the growing altercation between brothers. Through the maze of halls, he hears the end-tail of snappy rebuttals to a conversation he can only assume the contents of, what he's assured of however is that their time together, once again, is being cut short.
Rising from the bed he slow to dress himself, pointedly ignoring the clock's late face and the few hours left before his morning shift. Slips on dirtied bottoms and follows the chatter of his lover, the dismissed concerns of active gangs, and languid responses concerning the Foot. He finds Mikey nearing the bathroom towel already in hand and an apologetic smile on his face before the door closes muffling the phone's conversations, the running shower muting it entirely.
The Foot, a group he's yet to fully understand. Headlines highlighting only the institution's occasional donation and its growth of profit margins. Personal research unveiled the Foot's heavy investments in those same headline publishing industries. His discoveries are only a peep of what the beast is willing to reveal, when questioned on their involvement Mikey rejected all advances as did his brothers, though Leo had set him aside.
That stoned gaze stilled him, interaction with the leader until now had been minimal, limited to greetings and farewells he had always found the leader unapproachable. The rigidity in which the elder held himself had been a default for as long as their first meet. For Leo to initiate such an interaction was a rarity that scared him to the bones.
Mikey would later contextualize the apparent behavioral change that beset his brother occurring only after the sudden departure of their father. “It changed all of us”, is all Mikey ever breached on the subject. He takes to microwaving the last few breakfast sandwiches before seating at the table end waiting alone in the sole illumination of the stove’s overhead, its glowing numerals drawing his attention as his mind wanders back to that moment.
It was mid-morning, the day following his introduction to the family. Breakfast had been filling and the brothers had finished training soon after, everyone going their own way after a few lasting stretches. Donatello informed him of Leonardo’s summon, he’d been led to the barn by the slow-paced leader and now stood in frightened anticipation as the door is closed behind them. Donatello’s gadgetry in one corner his eye lingering on Mikey’s painted projects in the other. The stale stench of hay and aged wood stagnate in the air, from the heightened windows aiming soft blocks of light below illuminating the scene. Particles dance in the sun's beam, more so when Leonardo walks into it and stood before him.
He spoke with an air of authority, an intonation he's witnessed briefly over-watching their training though now he understood before there held a tint of playfulness in those eyes. Compared to that solidly sharp look fixed onto his own, what's spoken is bluntly cold and dry in delivery and he hangs on every word.
"Death is the consequence for our existence and those of association, do you understand?"
To an extent he had, coming into their world would require a sacrifice of the personal and private. Leonardo never went further into detail beyond the expectational conditions he’d have to abide by if he chose to stay. A severance of societal comforts of mind and body when the metaphorical shit hit the fan, to discipline and dedicate oneself solely to their mission of survival and justice.
Mikey later fills in when Leonardo does not, the file of cut-out obituaries they’ve kept was enough to add context and weight to the leader's adverted gaze and vague mentions. The beep of the microwave settles him back into the present, retrieving the steamed plastic shrink-wrapping the mini sandwiches he plates them atop the countertop to cool before returning to his seat, the shower had stopped minutes ago, there’s shuffling, thereafter the sink is ran.
Peeks to the bathroom just around the curved arc to the kitchen as muffled music sounds followed by Mikey's off-key singing. It works to bring a smile to his face. He’s positive of his love for the younger terrapin, had imagined marriage years down the line, he remembers the decision he’d made, it had been then and there. Leonardo’s face had been subtly surprised, unexpectedly, a warm smile graced those stoic features.
Thereafter had been different, he’d been welcomed into the family with open arms, visited openly and often enough that the sewers winding tunnels had become homely familiar. He’d eventually gain the courage to bring Mikey to his parents' grave, it becoming a yearly custom just as important as their anniversary.
But certain things stayed the same, his exclusion from familial discussion pertaining to missions, given a strict visitation schedule, sudden absences, and lengthy trips for reasons Mikey never went into depth, he was still an outsider in their world. Something he hoped to change today, after their coupling where he noticed deeper nicks than usual on that textured expanse of shell, knew them to heal quick but he could still outline the bruise on sea green thighs. Of course, I’d be another emergency that swipes his opportunity, the bathroom opens moments later, steam bellows low, the music paused and Mikey barely spares a glance his way when passing to the bedroom undressed.
He’s rushing so that means, just as the thought came to be he hears a hurried farewell just as the sliding creak of the bedroom window and it closing soon after, slumping in the wooded chair he sighs long and heavy. Deciding to postpone the discussion until after work when he goes to pick up Mikey to drive him over. He forces the three mini sandwiches down before returning to bed.