Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fingers anxiously tap, tap, tap at a bedazzled binder, the label, ‘PLAY IDEAS’, is peeling at the corners. Teeth nervously nibble at the dry skin on the bottom of the owner’s lip, stopping when she inevitably draws blood again.

“If you keep gnawing away at your lip like that, you won’t have one left,” The voice next to her spooks her out of her trance, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she straightens. (Y/n)’s face quickly drops as Leo pokes her cheek, her (e/c) eyes meeting his shit-eating grin. The accompanying red-eared slider happily slides into the metal chair beside her, arms resting on the backs of the chairs beside him, “You’re worrying too much, senora. Your drama teacher would be insane not to use any of the spicy ideas brewing in that mind of yours.”

“I wouldn’t say spicy…” (E/c) eyes slide down to the binder between her fingers only for it to be snatched by three long and slender, green fingers. They follow to a smirking Leo, the mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling a little brighter as he shakes it to and fro, which he stops at the slight sound of a paper plausibly tearing, “Though, I won’t get to share them if you mess them up, Leon.”

He purses his lips, blowing through them and making that weird horse whining noise, as he sets it in his lap and flips through the pages (which all luckily seem intact, thank fuck). He stops occasionally to analyze a few, his exaggerated faces giving her no true hint of what he’s thinking. His humming with each page doesn’t help.

It’s not like the pages are anything special or filled with over-the-top, never done before ideas, but they at least provide an idea of where to take whichever play they decide to pick for the semester. It’s filled with mainstream big plays, with hopes that the big names will draw more of the student body to join, and plausible proposed budgets that the school’s faculty would easily agree with (going off of her mother’s industry metrics-). There were also margins and pages filled with mathematical equations estimating probable costs that only Donnie or a very determined and a little too excited drama student director would notice. Leo is more than positive they teamed up on it in some way.

He lingers on a few pages, which she assumes to be the more eye-catching ones or the few musicals he actually knows (courtesy of the girl next to him). She doesn’t miss him quickly moving past the big number pages and extra gibberish that only those in “the business” would understand. It’s a rare instance of him being completely silent as he analyzes the pages. It only heightens (Y/n)’s worries about the quality, but she distracts herself as she moves her (e/c) irises to linger on other details and aspects presented to her at this moment.

A good bit of his features are obscured by his admiral blue winter hat and matching sweater while his jacket hangs over her chair (she isn’t sure when he managed to put it there). Not even the most perceptive of people would pick up on the exposed parts of his face being reptilian shades of green in his current getup. Then again, she’s more than positive the turtles could very easily pass as people when they cover their shells (something she has bared witness to so often), especially in the melting pot of NYC. She does miss his crescent moons, hidden away by the felt of his hat, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid lingering questions. Without the shit-eating grin, his face is mischievous enough that you would assume he’s always up to something, which isn’t necessarily an off assumption, but (Y/n) just knows when the wheels in his brain are turning from years of experience.

“Alright, done!” (Y/n) doesn’t realize how close she is until his head turns to face her, the two mere inches apart from each other as opposed to the slightly bigger distance they had. It definitely throws her off a little, but Leo remains unphased as he continues, “Looking through this thing only proved my point further. You possess the sauce-”

“The sauce?” (Y/n) asks with a tilt of her head, somehow managing to take the binder back into her arms and holding it close to her chest, “What the hell is the sauce?”

“I have no idea! But Mikey’s used it enough times for me to confidently say that you have got it, whatever it is! Mama Celeste will be so proud, (N/n),” She’s now 100% sure he mistook Mike’s cooking speeches as some new lingo, but she’s not allowed to dwell on that for too long as she hears the voice of her drama teacher calling her to his office, “That’s your cue. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She stands to her feet, taking a deep breath as she turns her attention to the office. She stares for a moment, feeling the nervousness creep up her spine as the binder in her hands gains thousands of pounds. With a shaky step forward, the deep pit in her stomach reminds her of literally everything hanging on her gaudily designed book. Of course, any other time she’d be reminding herself that any of the musicals they choose is alright and that any of her ideas being turned down isn’t the end of the world, but she can only focus on the fact that this is her senior year and anything going wrong feels like the end of the world to her.

She feels dizzy in worry, her throat going uncomfortably dry. Her breathing slows and, to any party outside her mind, she looks like a deer in headlights as she stands staring at the door. Her heart rattles in her chest-

“Heey, Mamacita! Chill out,” Green fingers settle themselves on (Y/n)’s shoulder, tugging her into Leo’s chest as a reassuring grin graces his features. Their cheeks touch as he stares straight towards the door, his fingers on his other hand softly gripping her chin and keeping her eyes on the door, “You know all the business insider secrets because of your mom. Don’t let them go to waste. Ya’ve got this, (N/n). Go in there and rock it like you know how.”

His words actually manage to calm her, her breathing evening back out as she slowly regains her confidence. The small feeling of nausea remains but is slightly tolerable now.

“Plus, as much as I love the laser light show idea for The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Hadestown will probably be a hands-down legend for this school with the right vocal lessons. But that’s just me.” Annnd now she knows his biases from her creative selections, “Knock ‘em dead, tigresa!”

He gives her a light push through the door, leading to her stumbling and falling on her ass in front of her teacher. He doesn’t pay her much mind, barely looking up from his paperwork.

“Ms. Brown. Good evening,” He gives her a bit of a hand wave before finally looking up, “Ready to discuss this semester’s play?”

“Yes, Mr. Sherma” She quickly stands to her feet, suddenly very self-conscious of her grotesquely decorated binder as she holds it to her chest, “Yes, I am. And, this time, I brought an idea book to explain my ideas a little better!”

He holds his hand out for it, delicately handling it as he brings it to lay on his desk. His fingers are nimbler than Leo’s as they open the pages, flipping through them with careful precision. His eyes linger longer, the scene playing out similarly to earlier.

He occasionally brushes the parts of his brown hair back, his eyes, tired but curious, scanning each and every detail. She’s reminded of some of her classmates joking about him looking like a Renaissance version of a particular Twitch streamer.

The only time it’s obvious which ones he’s interested in is when he looks over the proposed budget pages a bit longer than others. He hums and mumbles, not shy from making noises of displeasure at certain pages. She’s pretty positive she hears him mumble ‘cringe’ at some point.

(Y/n) awkwardly sits in one of the many chairs in his office, her fingers lightly tapping against her knees while her feet make little kicks. Her brown orbs glance around the room when she feels she’s been looking for too long. Various awards line the walls, some for students whose names she recognizes and others she’s maybe heard in passing. She recognizes a few of her own, not fighting the small smile that comes to her lips at the acknowledgment of her work of the past few years. The walls are also decorated with pictures throughout the years of performances and practices past as well as the occasional goofy memory, some a little hard to make out with the dying light of the assorted lamps.

“This… idea binder is full of interesting ideas, Ms. Brown, but they don’t tell me what you specifically want to do,” Mr. Sherma sighs as he closes it. His blue eyes meet her brown ones, an intensity behind them that she can’t read, “Each page has a lot of detail and potential, but none scream with desperate want, you know?”

She grows nervous, feeling herself start to sweat under his gaze. She tosses his words around in her mind, but it doesn’t make it much clearer, “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“What do you want, Brown? Tell me what you desire to see. Your deepest intent, Brown,” She feels herself flinch when he suddenly stands, her back pressing deep into the chair as he leans forward and sings at her. She never knows what to expect from her drama teacher, but the operatic sounds that leave his mouth aren’t it, “What do you see for this production? I’m looking for someone with strong ambition, someone to sell their specific vision, someone to share with precise precision their thoughts. ‘Cause I want you to want… To want!”

She’s thrown off further once he begins walking around his desk. He stops once he reaches the front, comfortably leaning against the mahogany with little disregard for its old and thin nature. He crosses his arms over his chest as he stops, looking down at her, “So what do you want, Ms. Brown? What’s the one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

(Y/n)’s lost at his sudden questions, her head naturally tilting as she stares back at his determined gaze with equal confusion. Her face scrunches up, eyebrow lifting. He doesn’t elaborate, again, so she doesn’t even know how to begin to unpack all of what he’s pushing for.

“I don’t think I have one of those?” She finally manages to wrangle up, giving her teacher another one of her nervous, closed-eye smiles.

He remains quiet for a moment, staring her down for a bit. She opens her eyes once she realizes he hasn’t said anything, awkwardly maintaining eye contact as he doesn’t exchange immediate words. She can feel a grimace starting to form while his face remains stony.

“Well, then, how’s anyone supposed to sympathize with you, Ms. Brown?”

“Huh? I don’t know…” Her mouth gapes open at that, but she quickly closes it to think of literally anything she could plausibly list. Most of her current goals involve catching criminals and living to make another day? Understanding her powers a little better and maybe her family heritage some? But those aren’t necessarily things many of her peers could relate to and sympathize with, at least, not in the way she has to deal with her goals. She thinks hard about some common goals that most high schoolers have, “I want what anyone wants…?” She thinks really, really hard, “Money, a partner? Kids, someday, maybe?”

Mr. Sherma nods his head at that, turning to face his desk. (Y/n) relaxes a bit, thinking that maybe, just maybe, that would be the end of it-

HE JUMPED ON THE DESK?!?!

“What the fuck?!”

“I want you to want, Brown! A girl so vague just can’t be trusted! Something you pine for, maybe someone who keeps you lusted. I’m just a boss, I’m not an idea guy! I hire you kids to keep our plays ripe. But if you can’t pin the point that’s in the skyyyyy!”
He starts to dance with ease, ignoring the resistance of his desk’s legs as he does a smooth spin in the middle of the surface. His footwork is delicate, fancy, even. (Y/n) finds it hard to even focus on what’s being sung at her as her eyes glide behind his movements. He stops in the center, sliding to his knees and pointing his right index finger in her direction while his left-hand rests on his chest “Then I want you to want, to want!”

“Sir?!” She can’t fight the laugh in her tone as she calls out, equally amused and heavily confused at this turn of events. She literally can not pinpoint why in the known universe he is singing at her, especially this song of all things, but she can’t lie and say she isn’t severely entertained.

“D’you know what I want for myself? I’ve waited for so lo-ong to tell somebody else,” His tone drops, becoming more somber as he manages to rhythmically set himself down from his desk. He grabs the picture of his wife off his desk, his head tilting as a fond look comes to his eyes, “Carol, my wife, you’re my muse, my source of light. Carol, my love, I want you to choke me out at night…” He plops himself down into his chair, longingly staring at the photograph of his wife, “I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me while I jerk off… I want you to choke me while I… jerk off.”

(Y/n) sits up at those words, a discomfort settling in the pits of her stomach and sinking further down. She doesn’t fight down the look of shock in her eyes at the admission, nor is she able to stop the noise of confusion she makes, “Um, sir-,”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Sherma presses the call button on his office phone, the beep loudly sounding through his small office. He leans over, a dazed look in his eyes as he stares forward, “Melissa, get my wife on the phone for me.”

(Y/n) quickly gathers her bags, reaching for her idea binder, “Mr. Sherma, I think I should leave-,”

“No, (Y/n), I want you to hear this,” He tugs the binder closer to him, not sparing her a glance as he adds, “If you leave, you’re fired.”

It rings a bit before Mrs. Sherma answers, “Carol! Yes, everything’s fine, I promise. I just wanted to tell you something…,” He freezes, his dazed expression growing horrified as he stares forward, past the expansion of the messily decorated walls of his office into the inner turmoil of his request weighing on him, “I, uh, I forgot what it was… Maybe someday I’ll remember. Goodbye…”

It remains quiet after that. (Y/n)’s gaze remains downtrodden as she contemplates and processes how she was thoroughly traumatized by the shame of her drama teacher, but also not surprised by his antics. Mr. Sherma, however, was mentally suffering with his inability to tell his wife his deepest desires…

She looks up in time for her (e/c) pools to meet with despair-ridden shades of blue, the latter widening as Mr. Sherma rises to his feet and dances around his desk.

“Ms. Brown, now you know what it is to want!”

“I want to go home!”

“It consumes a man with a passion to drive the primary plot,” His verses speed up as he ignores her pleas, “So take up yoga or improv classes. Volunteer at shelters or twitch to the masses.”

(Y/n) takes her gathered bags while he’s distracted.

“There’s gotta be something to keep my hands off you. Off youuu”

She manages to slip around him and grab her binder, holding it close to her chest.

“‘Cause I want you to want!”

“I’m gonna get some… coffee? Do you want anything?” (Y/n) manages to ease to the door, her hand struggling to get a good grip on the door.

“No, I need you to want!”

“How about an iced caramel frappe? Nothing better-,” The door magically opens for her just as her hand gets a good grip on the door. It drags her forward, causing her to lose her balance.

“And if you don’t want…” He freezes, taking a deep breath before releasing the highest note he’s hit that (Y/n) has ever known him to, “We’re throughhh.”

A soft donk sounds as her forehead meets a hard plastron. Scaly, strong arms wrap around her waist, holding her up. She isn’t surprised to find Leo above her with his signature, though more slightly confused than usual, grin. She raises her hand as she shrugs, nudging her head towards their exit and grabbing his hand to drag him through it, “Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Sherma!”

As the two leave, they hear her teacher call out for her, hitting one last high note as they push through the auditorium doors. It only encourages (Y/n) to pick up her pace, leading the turtle through the halls toward the exit.

Leo is rightfully confused, especially when (Y/n) doesn’t elaborate on it in the slightest.

“Are we going to talk about that orrrrr?” He attempts to nudge, his hands coming up and crossing behind his head. He leans back into the hold, his eyes never leaving her form as they walk the streets of the neighborhood around the school.

He feels his breath hitch when she turns to him, undeterred by the grimace on her face when the light escaping from the sun’s rays meets the color of her eyes. He hears her response, but he finds himself more focused on her mannerisms as she animatedly fumbles through explaining what went down. Her (h/c) hair bounce with every step, just as animated as her, but still relatively deflated from the exhaustion of her instructor and the heavy plush of her pink winter hat.

“This almost was not worth giving up my shift for,” She finishes, bringing her fingers up to her lips to breathe on them. A pout takes place on her plump lips as she digs in her jacket pockets, slipping her gloves on, “He started singing about wanting and wants when all I want now is to make back the tips from Run of The Mill. We didn’t even pick anything because of his weird song!”

Leo finds himself only able to nod as (Y/n) continues to grumble the rest of her rant. He had only really heard the last bit of what was going on, but that was due to him deciding to investigate after hearing some weird screeching and shouting. He didn’t actually expect to find her being held hostage by her singing teacher, but it aligned pretty well with the few things he’d heard about Sherma from (Y/n) and April. Even now, he feels the man is something unreal entirely.

He takes the binder out from between her armpit while she’s distracted, her ramblings turning into muttered gibberish that he can very much still understand. He starts flipping through the pages again, his face softening as he stops on a page of distracted doodles he hadn’t noticed on his first run.

(Y/n) was no artist, by any means, but she was damn good at creating a scene of stick figures. Some showcased plausible blocked scenes and others were silly little things like a chibi version of herself squashed under a rock labeled ‘Drama’ in her fanciest cursive or exaggerated versions of their friend group doing severely ambiguous poses.

As he goes to flip to the next page, the hums of people on the street reach his ears, but his companion has stopped her ramblings. She’s stopped altogether, staring ahead with a bewildered look.

“Carolers caught your attention, (N/n)?” He asks as he looks up from the book to her, a smirk dancing along his lips as the quip readies itself from his brain cells, “You can’t judge them too harshly for being a tad bit pitchy, y’know. Not everyone can hold a note by ear.”

The teasing was worth it, especially with the deadpanned expression she gave him in response. However, she shakes her head as her thumb and index finger grip his chin, pulling him down to her level. Their faces are mere inches apart and Leo can all but feel all the warmth spread through his face, “They’re all perfectly dancing in sync.”

He doesn’t exactly process her words, his eyes going smaller as his lips form an O shape, “What?” The words do slowly jog back up with his brain processing, laughing at her statement, “I’d expect them to be dancing in sync if they’re all caroling. Would be a little embarrassing if they put a whole dance together and all ended up doing their own thing-,”

“No, Leo,” Her fingers turn his head forward as she speaks. Her hold is firm enough to keep him there, yet soft enough that he doesn’t feel like his skin is gonna tear off as she directs him, “Look at them all in sync. Everyone…”

And just like she said, everyone on the street had been humming and dancing in sync to the same tune. No one seemed to be a pitch-off or a step out of line as they filled the streets of midtown New York.

“Holy shit…,” He mutters out, eyes the size of saucers as he takes it all in, “Was there some block party announced that we don’t know about or something? Flash mob, maybe?”

“For it to be this big, impossible,” (Y/n) mumbles back, releasing her grip on his chin as she also continues to take in the sight of the sea of bodies.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah!”

The crowd separates down the middle, continuing to shimmy and sway in tandem. A lone girl remains, bundled up in a big puffer jacket with a green vest over the top of it. Her right hand rightly grips a clipboard and the recycle sign on the left breast of her vest is just barely visible through the crinkles of the uniform. She’s suddenly belting out words, the widest grin on her face as she bounces for a few beats, fist happily pumping in the air as she perfectly centers herself between the crowd.

“Just a typical day, that’s got me feeling in a beautiful way. No rhyme or reason,” She starts, pointing at some random person in the crowd, “We could sing a duet, dance a style or two. Or I’ll make you a bet, just a smile will doooo.”

She does flawless chaines before going into a sly, Italian fouetté. The duo flinches at the precision, their eyes trailing her moves. It really does nothing to give them context, but they can’t really complain when they’re already so enthralled.

She ends by raising both hands towards the air, feet spread as she belts to the sky, “Sometimes I just wanna shout on top of roof and mountaintops. All the world is paved in goldddd.” She lowers her hands as she holds the note out, tossing her clipboard off into the crowd somewhere. She places her now free hands on her hips as she walks along the lines of the crowd, hips bumping to the beat of the music, “Yesterday was retroactive, got myself a new perspective. I strut it up and down the road.”

“If the fighting climate change gig doesn’t work, she’d totally rock Broadway,” Leo comments perfectly between verses as they get a little closer to the action on the streets.

The girl stops her strutting right behind them, both arms resting on one of their shoulders, “So I throw out my worries and my old skin away,” She gives them both a little shove forward, nodding her head before doing a pirouette en dehors, “Doing what I want to do on this la dee dah dee daaaaaaay!”

Both teens stumble with (Y/n) catching herself by setting her feet on the pavement and Leo grabbing his arm as she’s steady. The girl stops spinning as she holds out the note, the folks in the surrounding area joining in midway through. The crowd begins to form a circle around the girl, Leo, and (Y/n), joining hands as they skip around them for a bit before changing directions and skipping the other way.

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd releases their hands in exchange for clapping on the beat, perfectly moving their hands in tandem with one another. High right, high left, low right, low left which each other word of the chorus and clapping on every word for each straight ‘La dee dah dee day’

The girl gives them both a high five before running out of the crowd as the circle disperses. Everyone on the street continues to hum and step on beat.

(Y/n) and Leo turn to each other, equally dumbfounded at the event transpiring around them. They still somehow manage to remain in the middle of the chaos, even as they attempt to weave through the crowd in search of the nearest manhole cover.

“What the fuck was that?” (Y/n) finally asks, turning to the blue-clad turtle as he fixes his ruffled clothes to hide himself a little better.

Neither are really watching where they’re going when Leo accidentally bumps into a homeless guy on the street. He panics, straightening the guy before he can teeter much, “I’m so sorry, sir,” He quickly begins searching his pockets, “Here, let me see if I have any-,”

“Hey, man that’s cool,” The guy happily replies with a smile, seemingly ignoring the change that jostled out of his tin can, “‘Cause I may not have a home, but that’s way okay. ‘Cause I prefer to roam the streets all day.”

He sings in the same cadence as the girl from before. The crowd of people turns towards them, doing the heel-toe around them on the beat to the song, every other row going the same way while each row in between goes a different way.

“The world is my house, the dogs are my food,” A small dog scampers past, “Oh, look— a new blouse!” He lifts a newspaper from off the street, his face lighting up as he runs past them, “And a new trash can tooooo!”

(Y/n) steps closer to Leo, his arm immediately going for her shoulders and pulling her closer until she’s flush against him. Her hand immediately grips his jacket in an attempt to pull him closer. They’re unable to keep their eyes off of him and both are a little too petrified to move from where they stand. The guy skips around them, raising his hands into the air and lowering them the longer he circles.

“I used to want to kill them all while high on bath salt zombie drugs and snacking on a dead man’s face,” He stops and stares at them for a little too long, his glare shifting around to every person dancing around them as he does a little, slow spin in place. He stops before a bright smile lights his face, “But that just feels like yesterday! This song takes all the pain away. My politics and house views changed.” He does a little dancy dance to emphasize his point, “Dancing on the concrete used to hurt a lot, but now I got new feet and this jam’s just way too hot!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd around them all lift their hands to the sky as they sing the chorus again, waving them to the beat with a small step every other note, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day! La dee dah dah day!”

(E/c) orbs spot an opening, her mind counting each beat it opens up. She steps away from Leo a bit, getting a grasp on his arm as her narrowed eyes keep a close watch on her path of escape. Her compadre starts looking through his pockets again, a grin on his face.

“I have literally no idea what’s going on here, but this is so cool!” He manages to pull out a five, happily setting it in the homeless guy’s tin can, “That’s all I’ve got for right now, but I’ll totally keep more cash on me in case I run into you guys again tomorrow.”

“Leo, come on,” She manages to pull him through the crowd just in time. It’s almost comical how easily she tugs him along through the rows of dancing New Yorkians, “This is the second dance number I’ve been forced to sit through today-,”

They continue to weave through the crowd, the clear street beyond the dance mob seemingly beyond their fingertips. (Y/n) keeps a strong grip on Leo as she leads the way, while he remains amazed by the group's movements around them.

Just as they reach the end, the girl from before lands in front of them. She’s regained her clipboard, which now rests tightly in the palm of her hand. She takes a deep breath before she sings out a call, “Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Of course, you want to save the planet!” The crowd calls back, freezing in place to stop and look back at her.

“Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Well, there’s just one way you can do it!”

“By singing a song!” Without warning, the girl begins cartwheeling toward the center of the crowd as they sing back at her. She stops a moment to sing with them, “Singing along!” Before immediately going back to her cartwheels. The crowd goes back to singing the chorus as she does, every other row overlapping with the other

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!” With each row she cartwheels by, the ensemble turns back towards the center. They continue to repeat it a few times, changing the lyrics up just as she hits the last row, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day… Away…”

The girl does a flip in the air as she reaches the center, landing on her feet perfectly with her arms raised in the air and her clipboard intact between her fingers. She lowers herself to rest on one knee, belting out one final, “La dee dah dah”

Each row of the crowd falls to their knees one after the other aligned with each word she sings. It’s almost creepy how synchronized their moves are. They finish the song off in unison with a final, “Day!” Everyone holds the position for a few beats before getting up and moving along with their day like nothing just happened.

The two remain standing there after watching all of that happen, equally confused and mesmerized by the events that just transpired before them. Leo is by far more amused than (Y/n). He turns to her with a knowing grin as he takes in her face.

Her mouth is held open, has been since the girl cartwheeled and flipped back to the middle. Her eyes, while not the size of saucers, hold an intrigued gaze in them. Her grip on Leo’s arm loosened in the midst of that, her hand now limply resting on his inner forearm as opposed to tugging it forward.

“You’re gonna catch flies, (N/n),” Leo teases, his index finger hooking under her chin and slowly pushing it upwards. Once her mouth closes, he tilts her chin up towards him and their eyes meet. He doesn’t fight back his grin like he does the warm feeling in his cheeks and she doesn’t miss the way it rises as he catches sight of the soft flush in her cheeks, “You wish your classmates were that in sync.”

She huffs as she walks ahead of him into the alleyway, waiting for the streets to clear before pushing the manhole cover aside. She sits against the entrance, looking at him a little annoyed, “Yeah…”

She jumps down into the sewer hole and activates her flight ability just in time to float to the bottom. Leo climbs down not too far behind her, touching the pavement a few minutes after.

Chapter Text

“Okay, but I wish I got to watch him jump on the desk-,”

“No, you do not,” (Y/n) sighs as they enter the lair. She tugs her hat off her head as they reach the TV room, shrugging her puffy, pink coat off and hanging it on the guest rack, “I was so worried it was going to finally give out under him.”

The rest of the younger members of the Hamato clan are sprinkled across the various seating arrangements in the TV room, a single pie in a tin sitting in between them on the coffee table. April has a binder and papers out, her back pressed against the armrest of the couch, while Donnie looks over her shoulder at her work on one of the bean bag chairs; Mikey’s doodling on the floor, an array of color-filled papers surrounding him with a few sculpted paper pieces resting on his shell; and Raph has one of the game systems hooked up to the TV as he sits on the floor (a safe distance) in front of it, turned down to minimal studying volume. Mikey’s the first to acknowledge their entrance, a small shine coming to his eyes as he sits up a bit better to greet them.

“You’re finally here,” The paper figures flutter to the ground around him and his fingers are stained in various colors, “How’d it gooo? Did you pick a play for next semester?”

A smile graces (Y/n)’s lips, but it doesn’t reach the exhausted look in her eyes, “Nope!” She enunciates the ‘P’ as she throws herself across the free bean bag chair. She buries her face deep into the fabric with a loud groan, her thick binder falling to the ground beside her. She props her head up when she feels the bean bag sink beside her, Leo’s weight causing her body to roll against his shell.

“I told you,” Donnie doesn’t bother to look up from April’s homework, pointing at something as he raises a totally not drawn-on eyebrow, “Should’ve added more detailed equations and estimated costs based on the current stock market and estimated growth and decline, but noooo, Donnie, we’ll worry about costs after we hook him in-”

“Literally, no. Money had nothing to do with it,” (Y/n) straightens to face him a little better, her eyes narrowing, “He cryptically talked about wants and knowing what I want or something?”

“Correction: He cryptically sang at you about wants,”

“Regardless, I’m pretty sure I’m on my own about picking what to perform for the next semester,” She sighs, leaning against the terrapin beside her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she closes them, eyebrows scrunching as a grimace forms on her lips, “Kind of figured, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Her features soften when she feels three fingers dig into her scalp from behind, getting through her (h/c) tresses without tangling between them to softly massage at the back of her head. (Y/n) leans into his touch, tension releasing from her shoulders as she leans her head against Leo’s arm. She doesn’t notice him moving her binder until she feels the cover hit her black winter leggings. Her eyes shot open at the weight, watching it bounce against the fabric before perfectly landing closed in her lap.

April finally looks up from her homework when she more than happily reaches for her bag. She’s not subtle about opening her notebook, shoving her homework in it before loudly slamming it closed, “At least you’ve got a little more creative freedom than you were worried about. We both know how weird Sherma is about… Everything,” She finally gets to retort, shoving the rest of her textbooks in her bookbag, “I remember one of the plays last year got super weird because of his meddling. Reported on it for the school paper and all.”

Last year’s play was 35 MM: A Musical Exhibition, which is already a doozy of a musical if you don’t know much about the source material. It’s dark and Sherma only pushed to make it darker and darker. One kid had to hold huge poster boards with content warnings due to how graphic some of the acting got. It never went too far, but it pushed a lot of the drama student body to a limit they had never reached before (and also weeded out all the kids that were not made for the theater life). The main cast had gotten so small that (Y/n) remembered pantomiming numerous segments throughout the play along with being the lead singer for a few songs. That performance was what led her to the leadership role she was currently placed in as the student director.

The weight of the book starts to feel heavier as she processes those words more, now having it explicitly said by someone else really allowing it to resonate that the life-altering decision of what play she’d get to lead for the second semester was within her palms. It was daunting, teasing at all the plausible failures and gratifying successes that could easily fall upon her from how well any of the plays listed performed. She could either play it safe and pick a play that would easily work for everyone or she could pick a passion play and push her peers beyond their limits-

“I’m sure whatever play (Y/n) chooses will go perfectly fine,” Raph finally speaks up, setting his controller down as he twists a little to face them better. He moves just enough to have his score flash in the game’s bright colors, his smug grin just as bright, “That book’s fulla all sortsa ideas!”

An ominous aura starts to fill the room as various pairs of eyes hone in on the screen. The top 5 highest scores brightly shine with Raph’s usual input happily nestled at the top. The silence from the other three turtles is near-deafening while (Y/n) and April can really only sweat. Before either can speak up, the four begin brawling in the middle of the room, puffs of smoke surrounding them as they tussle about.

April shakes her head at their behavior, leaning over the arm of the couch to talk to (Y/n) better, “At least you’ve got the whole break to think it over? You can just sit and stew in your thoughts, meditate a little about it, then come to a decision about it later.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” She sighs in response, setting the binder into the now empty seat beside her.

It wasn’t a bad idea at all. She could get comfortable and play each soundtrack until something clicked. Even if it takes up most of her break, she’ll eventually have something come time for the next semester-

Wait, shit.

“I can’t! Ariana’s coming home for winter break in a few days!” She groans, slumping further into the beanbag chair. She can already imagine her sister being all over her the first week she’s back. She just knows she’ll have very little time to really dwell on it, “You know how she is when she comes home.”

The last time Ariana came home had been for April’s graduation party. She stayed long enough to watch her walk, which left her somewhat conjoined at the hip with (Y/n) for the first half of her trip. No one really minded much, it was practically like old times before she up and left for college out of state, but that energy was not as welcomed when (Y/n) had important projects she was supposed to be working on.

“I’m sure your sister won’t mind helping you pick something out-”

“Anything you can do, I can do better!” Leo sings out as he jumps out of the pile of jumbled bodies, a prideful look in his eyes as a grin forms on his lips.

“Ha!” The others scoff, shooting him accusatory glares as they all stop their wrestling.

“I can do anything, better than you,” The red-eared slider challenges, setting his hands behind his back as he leans towards them. He cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“No, you can’t,” Raph shoots, pressing his index finger into Leo’s chest with each syllable to annunciate his point.

“Yes, I can”

“No, you can’t,” Mikey pipes up with an unimpressed look, eyebrow raised.

Leo peaks his head past Raph to see his other brothers, wiggling his eyebrows, “Yes, I can.”

Donnie sighs as he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “No you can't.”

“Yes I can, yes I can,” Leo sings, twirling to move between the other three with his head held high.

April stares on in confusion, mouth agape as they sing at each other. She slowly turns her head to send (Y/n) a questioning look, mouthing a big ‘What is HAPPENING?!’ in her direction.

“This happened with Sherma and in the middle of town,” (Y/n) sighs as she facepalms, running her hands down her face before setting her chin in one of her palms. There’s a tired look in her eyes as they connect with April’s, “This has been my day the past few hours.”

“Anything you can be, I can be greater,” Donnie starts, shoving Leo out of the center as he points towards himself with his thumb. He extends his arms towards the others as he gestures at them, lip slightly upturned, “Sooner or later, I’m greater than you.”

“No, you’re not,” Mikey sounds. The box turtle leans over Don’s shoulder, as he pays the soft shell a skeptical look.

Don shrugs him off with a firm, “Yes, I am”

Another “No, you’re not,” sounds from Raph and Leo, the oldest’s holding more agitation while the other middle child’s was a little more teasing.

“Yes, I am!” Donnie says a little more exasperated and pointed, arms crossing.

Mikey slides to stand beside the older set, mirroring their crossed arms as they lean forward to meet Donnie more head on. He throws his arms out as the three come together for a final, “No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am, yes I am,” He retorts before he grips his shoulders, turning away from them. At some point, April whipped her phone out to record. He sets one of his arms behind his back as he sticks out a finger, head a little higher, “I can shoot a partridge with a single cartridge!”

Leo scoffs as he grabs Donnie’s shoulder, turning him to face them. He points to himself before pointing at a bird stuffed and mounted on the wall (a bird he cried about for two weeks), “I can hit a sparrow with a bow and arrow!”

“I can live on bread and cheese,” Mikey proudly announces as he steps between them, his hand laying on his chest as he rocks a little.

“And only on that?” Raph asks with a tilt of his head.

“Yep!”

Donnie snorts, “So can a rat.”

Splinter happens to pass by at that comment, ear twitching at the word rat. He leans over the couch, a knowing look mixed with a twinge of mischief swirling in through his orbs, “Any note you can reach, I can go higher!”

“I can sing any note higher than you!” Leo responds, pointing at all of them. As they attempt to sing higher than each other, Splinter makes his leave, satisfied with the extra chaos he created.

Mikey comes out on top, a glass shattering somewhere in the kitchen. The noises makes everyone flinch, the six of them all turning a bit towards the sound. He gives a few bows, giving his thanks as if he’s on a stage. He’s blowing kisses, the others almost completely out of breath. Raph somewhat recuperates when he asks, “How do you sing that high?”

“He’s barely pushed past puberty,” Donnie quips, getting a shove from Mike in response.

“Hey!”

Raph pulls Mikey in, giving him a noogie with a fond smile. He tugs Donnie and Leo into his hold with his other arm, surprising one while the other leans into them on instinct. A sly smirk comes to his face as he leans down, the next note coming in softly, “Any note you can sing, I can sing softer.”

“Scoff,” Donnie does so with a roll of his eyes, harshly whispering, “I can sing anything softer than you.”

The girls glance at one another as they continue to quip back at each other. April has a grin, her phone firm between her thumb and curled index finger, while (Y/n)’s face is contorted in confused amazement. It’s something about watching the terrapins sing at each other, outside of planned karaoke nights, that makes it somewhat surreal. April leans over, moving the phone away, “This happened to you earlier?” (Y/n) nods in response, slowly easing off of the beanbag to sit beside April. Her eyes never leave the sight, “Girl, this is crazy-,”

“I can drink my liquor faster than a flicker!” The two jump into each other as they loudly start singing at each other again. The boys have broken apart, Leo standing in front of them with one of his thumbs pointing at himself while he holds up his phone. The picture is from their last weekend get-together where a few drinks were present and everyone competed in a drinking game. Don’s head is down with a splintering headache you can feel through the screen, Raph is cradling a bucket in one arm with his free one thrown over Leo’s shoulders, Mike’s on the other side of Leo and happily holding his raised his in the air, and Leo sits between them all like the champ he is while trying to hold his drink down.

Mikey happily takes the phone and points at himself in the photo, a proud grin on his face, “I can drink it quicker and get even sicker!”

“I can open any safe!” Leo snatches his phone back from him, shoving it back where he got it.

Ralph lifts an eyebrow before lightly nudging him, “Without being caught?”

“You bet!”

“That’s what I thought, you crook!” It’s Donnie’s turn to pull out his phone, showing off a video of his security feed. It’s specifically an image of Leo breaking into his lab to mess with one of his tech staffs, a few beakers left broken in the process. (Y/n) remembers helping him clean it all up before Donnie got back from one of his personal escapades. He grumbles as he puts his phone away, “Any note you can hold, I can hold longer.”

The boys continue to go at it, leaving April and (Y/n) exhausted as they try to keep up. April turns her attention back to (Y/n), leaning over so her words aren’t caught in the video, “How many of these have you sat through today?”

“Counting this one, three,” She responds without hesitation, holding up three fingers as she slumps further into the beanbag, “Mr. Sherma’s was a solo, and another one was an intricate dance mob in the middle of the town square with everyone on the street except me and Leo involved.”

“I can do most anything,” Raph puffs his chest with his assertion, proudly grinning. Leo stands beside him, leaning his weight against him as he’s obviously out of breath. He’s heaving and holding his throat from holding the previous note for so long.

At some point, a girdle, a hurdle, and a sweater had all been involved at some point or another. They liter the middle of the common room, yet manage not to disturb the turtles as they continue to sing back and forth at each other.

Mikey comes between them all, holding the pie from the coffee table up high. A smug grin sets on his lips, “Can you bake a pie?”

“No,” Both Raph and Donnie sound almost immediately.

Leo drapes himself over their shoulders, grinning sheepishly as he nuzzles them both, “Neither can I!”

They all smile at each other, a few snickers releasing here and there. (Y/n) and April glance at each other a little uneasily when they catch the knowing smirks exchanged among the brothers.

“Is this the part where-“

“Anything you can sing, I can sing sweeter,” Donnie starts off, the softest and smoothest noise to ever come out of his mouth releasing with small churrs.

Mikey is fast on the upkeep, smirking with closed eyes as he does his own version of the smooth tone, “I can sing anything sweeter than you.”

As each boy sings, they ensure to hold the note out for longer and as sweet as they can muster. The sweet part is quick to knock Donnie out of the race, who can only keep up for a few back and forths. Inevitably, Mikey is next to knock out due to his typical reach making it hard for him to get to a comfortable pitch that still sounds as pretty as possible. Leo and Raph push each other further and further, which is a little shocking with how overtly competitive the last few call responses are.

“No, you can’t, can’t, can’t!” Raph retorts.

Leo’s quick to respond with, “Yes I can, can, can!”

At the end, they sing at the exact same time, both managing to hold their notes out for the same amount of time. They’re tones are a little passive-aggressive, but their body language reads somewhat playful.

When they finish, it’s like a veil is lifted off of them, each immediately responding with some form of disarray. Raph is holding his head in both hands, grimacing slightly. He turns away from the light with a small groan, “What was that?”

“Well, now I know how those people we passed earlier felt,” Leo states with a grin afterward. His eyes start to shine, almost as though they were clouded before. He holds his head after, holding his other hand out a little as he starts to dip a little, “A little groggy, but otherwise refreshed. And maybe like I just walked into Run of The Mill after a nice tussle with some baddies and there’s a house special going on.”

“People you passed earlier?” Donnie perks up, turning to his brother with a thick, lifted eyebrow, “What’re you talking about, ‘Nardo?”

“The thing (N/n) was telling you about as we walked in,” He responds in a matter-of-fact tone, grinning as he leans on Donnie a little, “Did you forget?”

“I watched something like this happen two other times, earlier,” The girl adds, her head slightly tilted as she takes in the boys’ responses, “We never stayed long enough to see any responses, though. Are you guys okay?”

“I was suddenly overcome with the strongest urge to sing, like a character in a musical or something! We all were!” Mikey exclaims, releasing his own hold on the side of his head as he glances around at everyone. His pupils dilate, a spark coming to them for just a moment. His hands rest by his side as he straightens up, a shiver racking his, and seemingly the others too, body. As the feeling passes, he holds himself in a hug, rocking as a wide smile comes to his lips, “I feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like after taking the first bite of a pie recipe gone right or something…”

“It’s like openin’ a Jupiter Jim comic for the first time in the sanctity of my room on a quiet night in,” Ralph adds with a nod, arms crossed.

“Like a hug from Papa after being out in the snow the week before Christmas,” Donnie adds, deep in thought. His thumb and forefinger rub at his chin as he stares at the ground, a little away from the group, “I’ve never felt like that after singing before…”

April sets her phone aside, her eyebrows furrowing as she leans forward on the couch. She takes a glance at (Y/n), their eyes meeting, “It’s like they’re feeling when they’re most happiest…”

Donnie holds his wrist out and scans Leo from head to toe. He pulls it back towards himself, typing a few things on it with a couple of hums, “There’s a lot more endorphins rushing through his body than normal.”

“Endor- what?” Leo asks, attempting to peek over Donnie’s shoulder. He gets shoved back, bouncing back onto the other side only for it to happen again.

“Those are the tissues that get trapped on the outside of the uterus during periods, right?”

“What?! No, Raph, that’s endometriosis,” Donnie retorts, a look of confusion painting his face before he sighs with a shake of his head, “Endorphins are the feel-good hormones we feel in our bodies. Dopamine and oxytocin?”

The other three brothers glance at each other, shrugging at one another. They turn back to Donnie and happily nod along with wide smiles. He can only roll his eyes.

“But why?” (Y/n) asks with a thoughtful look on her face, “What could possibly want to force people to sing and leave a rush of happiness afterward?”

The room goes silent for a moment as everyone seemingly thinks it over. Small hums and thought noises eventually start to fill the air, the air stilling as April loudly slams her palm into her hand, “Maybe it’s a mutant causing it? Or a yokai possibly?”

“That does seem like the most likely option until I’m able to gather more data,” Don responds, tapping a few things into the device on his wrist, “I’ll continue to monitor our vitals in the meantime and see if there are any more significant changes-,”

WE’RE A THOUSAND MILES FROM COMFORT-

“Whoops!” (Y/n) calls sheepishly as she pulls her phone out, eyes slightly wide in bewilderment from the sudden call. She lets out a small sigh as she reads the caller I.D., sending a small smile to the others as she quickly gathers her stuff together, “It’s my mom. Ari might probably be back already,” She slings her book bag back over her shoulder, “I’ll see you guys later!”

“Bye, (N/n)!”

“See ya, (N/n)!”

“Tell Aunt Celeste to send some baked goods with you next time!”

(Y/n) sends them a small wave of her hand as she heads out the main door, answering her phone and putting it to her ear, “Yeah, yeah! Baked goods or whatever- Hi, Mommy! I’m on my way back now, had to stop by the lair-,”
~~~~~~~

The apartment’s quiet as (Y/n) steps through the door. She hangs her key on her hook, her winter attire following suit and her snowboots left at the door. She takes small steps further inside, fluidly moving on the tips of her toes.

The smell of something sweet and warm wafts through the air. It’s definitely not being baked and isn’t fresh out of the oven, but it leaves her stomach rumbling all the same. Its alluring scent drags her along, her knitted socks slipping her along the floor more easily.

She peeks her head around the corner into the kitchen. Her mother has obviously been there, a few leftover tins and a note with the neatest cursive left in her wake, ‘Out to bakery. Plate in microwave!!!’

(Y/n) knew ahead of time she’d probably be gone by the time she got back, something about having some delivery boy pick up an order early, and she just wanted her home before it got too late. It was really just in case Ariana decided to come home extremely early and needed to be let in.

She connects her phone to the wireless speaker in their living room, turning on a random playlist before setting the device down and turning the microwave on for a minute. She hums as Lazy Love by Chloe x Halle sounds out through the apartment, the sound twisting upwards into the air with a comforting haze. She twirls on her way back to her binder, sliding into a chair up to the island. She flips it open, tugging a pencil out of her pocket and pressing the eraser against her lips as she looks the ideas over.

She’s really only torn between a few options: Legally Blonde, Hadestown, or Heathers. She had big ideas for them that would work without a big budget and not feel like they were missing something. Her main concern was really the performances of her peers and whether or not they would be received well.

She pipes up when she hears the microwave beep, quickly hopping up and taking the plate out of the microwave. She sets it beside her stuff, grabs a fork from the drawer, and settles back into her chair. As she sets her fork into the mashed potatoes, Pretty Girl Rock starts playing. (Y/n) wouldn’t mind if Lazy Love hadn’t ended so suddenly.

She feels herself perk up, setting her fork down as she stands up from her seat. She takes a deep breath, holding her hands out and letting them glow as she powers them up just a little. The shade of light pink fully encompasses her hand in a ball as she carefully eases into the living room. It’s empty, not one thing out of place. (Y/n)’s (e/c) eyes dart to her phone.

It’s facing the wrong side. She walks over to it, powering one of her hands down to pick it up. It’s smudged a little, the perpetrator messily swiping the song aside from unlocking it and choosing another. Too familiar…

She takes a glance at the door, a small amount of snow on the rug. It’s small, a sign that it’s been a bit, but not long enough for the snow to have fully melted. A few minutes at most… There are also no obvious signs of a break-in, but professional robbers wouldn’t do much damage either…

Slam. (Y/n) jumps at the noise of the microwave closing, the faint whirring noise reaching her ears once her pulse calms a little. She powers the glow of her hand back up, tiptoeing towards the kitchen as quietly as possible. She peeks her head around the corner of the wall that separates the living room and the kitchen, only catching sight of the figure before quickly moving back against the wall when they move.

Just as she gets the courage to ease further, the song changes to something a little out of place on her current playlist. For some reason, the tune’s a little louder than before, only rising with each second note. The singer’s voice fills the room in a way that makes it sound like a scene in a movie.

The first bit of What’d I Miss from Hamilton sounds all the way up to Thomas Jefferson’s part, stopping right before he would’ve entered. At the sound indicator, a familiar feminine voice sounds inside, causing (Y/n) to perk up and fully slide from behind the wall as the once unfamiliar form rises up in stature.

“Jane is following up on our work study, there is no more status quo,” She starts, a small smirk on her face as she unwraps her pale purple scarf from around her neck, allowing the fabric to drape on her shoulders in a showy way. Ariana’s early, and she knows it from the gloating look in her eyes, “But the sun comes up and the world still spins.”

“Aaa-ooo!” (Y/n) happily goes along with her sister’s antics. Anytime Ariana comes home in bright spirits, she always gives her own rendition of the song with an update on law school.

“I helped Kenyette draft a declaration then I said, ‘I gotta go, I gotta be with the familio.’ Now the work at home begins…” She cringes a little at her on fly use of familio to replace Monticello, but she’s gotta keep the beat up.

“Aaa-ooo!” The two sisters ease towards one another, wide grins on their faces. Both stop at opposite ends of the island, slamming their hands down at the same time to the last few beats before the next verse.

“So what’d I miss? What’d I miss?” Ariana grabs the nearest spoon, using it as a microphone as she sings into it, “Big apple, my sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss,” She blows a kiss at (Y/n), rounding the table as she continues, “I’ve been in Paris meeting lots of different ladies, I guess I basically missed the late eighties…” She stops just in front of her sister, twirling with her final line and playfully falling into her, “I traveled the wide, wide world and came back to this-”

“You could’ve stayed at your work study then, Ari,” (Y/n) teasingly interrupts, just barely holding her older sister up.

Ariana lets out a dramatic sigh, slowly straightening up. She grabs (Y/n)’s cheeks, smudging and lightly pulling on them as she speaks, “And miss out on spending the holidays with my favorite little sister?-”

“-I’m your only little sister-”

“The very idea is quite preposterous,” She finishes with a small nod, her hands coming up and lightly tugging at her cheeks. Her hands are surprisingly warm for someone that just came inside from the snow, “Hell, I even left a few weeks in advance when I heard they released you guys early. I’m guessing they’ve predicted another big snowstorm this year?”

“You check the news more than I do,” It was only mid-near late November and they were getting out relatively early in comparison to past years, which is why she’s trying to decide on a play now for next semester. It's definitely more than enough time, but it still feels kinda… dreadful. Luckily, she’d already narrowed it down to three main picks and she can just throw ideas at everyone until something sticks enough that she’s confident enough in the decision…, “How was the weather in Paris before you hopped on a plane to leave paradise?”

“Une occasion formidable. Je lui ai mis un petit,” There’s a small grin on her face as she responds, a bit of a dazed look in her eyes. (Y/n) has no clue what she said, but she’s immediately under the assumption it wasn’t something she’d say around their mother.

“That’s gross,”

“You don’t even know what I said,”

“No, but I know that look in your eyes too well. Disgustang,” She retorts, tugging her plate in front of her and deciding to finish off what’s left while her older sister recounts her tales in the city of love, “Start from the beginning but skip the sex stuff, I don’t care that you got laid.”

Ariana stares at her a moment before rolling her eyes, pulling a chair closer to (Y/n)’s, and grabbing her own fork. They both dig in as Ariana explains her work study in Paris, skipping the details of her romantic flings and going in-depth on the law study side of things. She wasn’t supposed to be there longer than a month, but the case she was interning for lengthened due to some evidence tampering and new witness testimonies. (Y/n) struggles to keep the details together, not really caring and just letting her sister get the past few months out of her system.

“So how was New York in my absence? Are you finally making more tips at Run of The Mill now that yokai are used to seeing you all the time?”

“Kinda? I think I get more tips when they think I’m a cool little trick. I give tiny light shows and make an additional $10,” I tell her. Working there isn’t that bad, especially with how kind Hueso is. Despite his annoyance with her closest friend, he’s a relatively chill boss, more so now that his brother is back as his associate, “Probably gonna take less shifts to help momma at the bakery, though.”

Ariana hummed at that answer, her own (e/c) eyes focused on the smaller details carved into the kitchen island, “Any new powers sprout since I’ve been gone?”

“Me or everyone else?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” She’s been waiting to ask. She asks every time she comes home, like she just knows there’s something more that is supposed to happen since fully unlocking all of that “April and Karai have gotten accustomed to each other, no new turtle mystic powers since Shredder, and I haven’t had much reason to practice.”

“Practice or motivation?”

“Yes”

“Oh,” Ariana lowly responds, setting her fork down on the plate with a loud clank noise. She was the only formal guidance (Y/n) had to control her abilities, with their mother being so determined not to even think of their alien heritage even though it’s the entire reason they’re even on Earth in the first place. Talking about it too much makes her uncomfortable, but she’s been a little more open since the whole tussle with ol’ Ancient One Shredder. Not open enough to talk more about her home planet, but definitely open enough to teach (Y/n) a trick here and there between work orders, “At least there’s an attempt now…”

“I guess…” The most explanation they’d gotten had been around the whole Shredder ordeal, with her simply saying she was a teen mom who needed to get out of there and took the chances during a ‘lottery’ of sorts. There was no sign of the ultimate evil she’d been warned of and no formal Hamato clan to train with in preparation. Or that was the case until a good couple of months ago where they finally put that ancient, mystically evil spirit into an unpeaceful grave.

It’s awkwardly quiet after that. Ariana takes the plate and their silverware, putting them in their loaded dishwasher. She starts it up, picking at her nails as she turns back to face (Y/n). She hums again, looking up with a small smile, “Any progress with blue slider?”

“Huh?!” (Y/n) feels her face warm at the question, eyes widening a little before quickly averting away from her older sister. The coy laughter of the older Brown sister has more honeydew filling her cheeks, “Shut up! He’s just my friend-”

“That you wanna kiss so so sooo bad-”

“-In middle school when everyone wanted to kiss someone!” (Y/n) is quick to quip back, tugging her sweater over her nose and glaring at her sister with her (e/c) orbs, “Plus, I have enough on my plate this year to be thinking about him like that. I’ll die from the stress of it all!”

Ariana’s laughing stops at that, an eyebrow raising at the phrase. It takes her a moment before it clicks in her mind, a soft ‘Ohhhh’ leaving her lips as the realization dawns on her. Then she makes a small noise of surprise, picking up the stray binder lying on the island before lifting it into her arms, “You still haven’t chosen something for your class next semester? I thought you settled on something?”

“Yeah, numerous somethings…” (Y/n) mutters. She holds up three fingers, letting her sweater slump down to its original place, “I’ve got three to pick between now. And I’ve got till December to decide…”

“Is Hamilton one?”

“Hell no.”

Ari barks out a laugh at the quick response, flipping through the binder’s page with more tact than its previous holders. She gives a small hum once she gets to the last page, a list of different musicals sitting there amongst the messier doodles. All except for three are scratched out.

“Just do Hadestown. I don’t trust your peers to do Heathers or Legally Blonde justice,” She states matter-of-factly as she sets the binder back on the island, letting it slide towards the center. She walks past (Y/n) after that, giving her a few head pats as she leaves out of the kitchen and heads down the hall, “Don’t stay up too late. If you see ma, tell her I’m jetlagged.”

“Yeah…” (Y/n) responds, staring down at the overtly decorated book.

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? She shakes her head, picking it up and cutting the lights out along the way to her own room. She shoots her mom a text, letting her know that both of the Brown sisters are under her roof now.

She closes the door behind herself, tugging at her clothes until she’s draped in her warmest and comfiest sleeping clothes. She turns her fairy lights on, sliding into her desk chair and she sets her binder down in front of her. She holds the page dedicated to her plans for Hadestown open, easing her worries about plausibly picking the play. She’s thankful for Ari’s input, as always, and she knows it’s the one she wants to do most deep down.

Before she knows it, she’s drafting up an email and guesstimating a proposed budget from the median of the other numbers she’s got listed. She doesn’t start feeling silly until she’s finished writing the full email out, closing the tab out, and pushing away from her desk. She goes to her bed, deciding to instead focus on forcing herself to bed.

She sets her phone down on her bedside table, plugging the device into the charger. The group chat she and her friends have has a few messages in it, specifically the gang going back and forth about what movie to watch for tomorrow night. Donnie also left her a few messages that were very obviously about the special effects for whatever project she chose to go with. And at the top is Leo, blue heart and clown emojis proudly sitting next to Neon Leon. His picture is a screenshot she’d managed to capture of him mid-wipeout during a Facetime call while he was skating (definitely would not recommend). When the others are miffed with him, they happily use it for his contact in their phones.

Neon Leon💙🤡: Hit me up if you can’t sleep, I’ll happily take a stroll ;)

She doesn’t know which is worse, the winky face or the fact that he used it knowing how cringe it makes his message look.

Theater Babe🎭💃: Shouldn’t you be in dreamland right now?

Neon Leon💙🤡: Don’s researching. Seems big and very loud

Theater Babe🎭💃: So that’s why y’all are arguing about movie night. Gotcha

After a few upgrades to a few of his many devices, Donnie’s lab tends to be way louder than before when he gets a little too into his zone. Techno music blasts out of a stereo and the many beeps, boops, and metallic clanks sound through the air and into the vents. While the others invested in some form of sound-cancelling headwear, Leo has taken up the habit of sleeping on a pink, chaise lounge chair in (Y/n)’s room. It’s become common enough that her mom simply greets him and offers breakfast in the morning. Celeste has also gained the habit of asking him to portal a few things to her bakery for her, which he happily does with his usual grin.

(Y/n) begins clearing any stray books and papers from the plush furniture, reassuring him there’s always a place for him in her room.

Theater Babe🎭💃: Be prepared to have more ideas thrown at you, Blue

Neon Leon💙🤡: What’re friends for

It doesn’t take long before the blue glow fills the middle of the room, flashing and shimmering as it awaits its user to pass through. It barelgy makes (Y/n) flinch as she gets comfortable on her own blankets, binder in hand, pencil in mouth, and stereo playing music at a low volume. Her companion twirls out of the portal, hands rounding around to rest behind his head, and flops down onto the plush blankets of her bed. The edge dips at the added weight from his shell, but neither pay it much ind as he leans his head back far enough to get a proper look at her.

“Next time, I’ll just walk you home,” Leo happily teases, rolling around so he’s laying on his stomach. He won’t admit he jumped at the opportunity to come see see her again and is secretly thanking his twin for the scapegoat.

(Y/n) can’t help but laugh at his greeting, scooting so the terrapin can get more room, “You’d complain halfway through if that one pop-up stall with the really good hot chocolate isn’t set up, though,” She hums as he takes up the space beside her, letting him get comfortable while still processing the ability to freely look over her shoulder, “Then we’d portal jump the rest of the way, even though we more than likely went back and forth about it before leaving the lair, and make instant hot chocolate in the microwave.”

“Yeah, you got me,” He snickers in retort, snuggling under her blankets like he isn’t gonna move to the chaise lounge chair in a few hours. He only takes a small peek at the page her binder is currently flipped to, snuggling more into the warmth of her pillows while she works away, “I see you settled on Hadestown. Guessing Ari got to you?”
“Said she didn’t trust my class to do the other options justice,”

“Me neither, actually,” The two sit in comfortable, mostly quiet, silence, with the occasional scritches of pen to paper and tapping of fingers against a phone screen accompanying (Y/n)’s thinking playlist.

The setting is perfectly them, even with their little to no verbal communication (which others would argue is rather out of character for both of them). (Y/n) is more than content here, in their little, almost impenetrable bubble. Nothing could possibly ruin this.
~~~~~

Lights flicker and glow in dangerous patterns as a certain turtle analyzes and reanalyzes the data presented to him through the little information he managed to gather from their small run in earlier. He’s listened to the audio over and over, taking note of how much better their voices sounded and how attuned they all seemed to be despite the four of them competing throughout. He doesn’t even recall feeling any contempt or disdain during the entire altercation, if it can even be called that. There’s at least a confirmed pattern, corroborated by Leo and (Y/n)’s recollections of at least two known events. He does hack into the cities security cameras to view the flash mob, which did actually happen in real-time, music and everything. It seems, however, that as soon as the two left, the people in the street also seemed to snap out of some haze, similar to him and his brothers earlier.

After adding a bit of a Donnie touch, he realizes that the group of people also seem to have a sudden burst in endorphins. However, he’s unable to pinpoint any source aside from the fleeing (Y/n) and Leo. He’s only able to deduce that (Y/n) has to be the trigger, unfortunately using only 3 instances. He’d rather have more data, but the results have been relatively the same, with the spontaneous songs only happening in areas (Y/n) happens to have frequented. He’s not sure what this means or why this could be.

His most likely guess is mystic stuff. Ironically, it’s the most rational answer. A year ago, he would’ve hated that he immediately came to and accepted that conclusion. Another plausible answer could be weird alien things, but he definitely doesn’t have enough data to make any conclusive statements with that theory.

“Sigh,” Donnie tiredly lifts his goggles, his hands rubbing at his face in an attempt to remove the growing exasperation. There’s been little sign of anything else out of the ordinary since (Y/n) left, which only further confirms the suspicions that the sudden chemical changes and song bursts revolve around her. The only step forward is to witness the happenings again and find out enough to create a controlled experiment to further understand, but he also knows that she’s going to give him hell if he even suggests following her around with a neuron analyzer and research notes, “Looks like Bootyshaker9000’s going to be getting his groove on very soon…”

Chapter Text

Like any other morning after a spontaneous Leo sleepover, Mama Celeste makes enough breakfast to share, then heads to work with a few passing forehead kisses on her way out the door. Ariana is an occasional addition, who quickly busies herself with her own school or internship work as soon as she’s done eating.

When Leo isn’t there, (Y/n) finds some way to occupy herself until something comes up, like a shift or planned hang sesh. When he is present, on mornings like this one, the two plan their schedules around getting things done, both together and separately, then pass time until they absolutely have somewhere to be. Today is no exception, with the student director waiting on her professor’s approval while also guesstimating how much money she’d make from the few hours she plans to work at Run of The Mill and the red eared slider deciding how long he’ll stay and help Mama Celeste before he heads back to the lair. Of course they talk about other things while they’re eating, like the group’s planned karaoke night tonight and their plans now that New York schools are out of school, etc. etc.

“Maybe karaoke will give you some ideas,” Leo mentions, happily stuffing his face with another piece of French toast, “We could sneak a few musical soundtracks in the set list and let them belch their hearts out.”

“Like that’ll work. Last time we tried that, they skipped all of the ones that weren’t ABBA or Beyoncé songs,” (Y/n) responds. Unsurprisingly, Raph knows Queen Bey’s entire discography by heart. He’s watched Dreamgirls more times than anyone can count, both with (Y/n) and on his own.

Leo lifts a finger, wiggling the green body part in disagreement until he swallows what’s in his mouth. He chases it with a sip of his glass of milk, “They played Jamie Foxx through too!”

“My point still stands, Blue.” There’s a small grumble near the end of her statement before she shovels some more of her breakfast in her mouth.

At the sound of her phone aggressively vibrating, (Y/n) quickly lifts it. Her eyes widen as she realizes her alarm’s going off, her feet moving just as she shoves what’s left of her plate down her throat. Leo moves alongside her, also realizing it’s her alarm going off from her reaction. He takes her plate from her, clearing the table of any other mess while she rushes down the hall to get ready for the day.

Every morning she gets a good shower in before spending a little too much time at her vanity doing her hair and maybe makeup (if she’s feeling up to it). Leo always moves around her perfectly, hopping in the shower after her and finishing normally in time to help her decide what she’s going to do with her appearance that day (he does her eyeliner 9 times out of 10).

After, the two go their separate ways. (Y/n) makes her way to a passageway specifically made for Run of The Mill, happily clocking in for the day. Leo, on the other hand, makes his way to Celeste’s bakery in one way or another. Usually, it’s still kind of early, a little too early, so he takes a nice stroll so the cool morning air can wake him a little more. However, on days like today, when the pavement is too hot to the touch regardless of the lack of blaring sun or the snow has completely covered the pavement, he happily portals his way to the backroom before knocking on the door and announcing his presence. After, he puts on an apron and a goofy baker hat. He doesn’t need the hat, but it makes him feel more in the role. Celeste says it makes him look a little dumb, but she supports it if it makes him happy.

He’s learned his lesson about just portalling in the main bakery area from the last few disasters it led to. One instance led to him almost having a blast sent through his chest by one of Celeste’s own bright, rare, and powerful powerballs. Another time he scared some older human lady so horribly she passed out and they had to rush her to the hospital.

Every morning, she has R&B playing through the air as she sets up shop, specifically the pre-2010s eras. Leo’s learned the names of every royal member of the genre from that time period and that you’re not allowed to mention Aaliyah, Left-Eye, Michael Jackson or Tupac without wishing their souls rest in peace. They’re not all R&B specific, but Celeste mixes them in enough for him to know a little too much information surrounding them and their entourages at the time.

After the Shredder incident, New York has slowly become more aware of yokai and mutants, mostly because their population nearly doubled due to the oozesquitos from a few years prior. While they haven’t all warmed up to them, the city has become a little more open to seeing them in varying places and they’ve even been getting hired in places more often without needing a cloaking brooch. Celeste’s bakery, Space Buns: Star-Studded Baked Goods, was one of the places that had already accepted them whole-hearted, mostly due to it also being one of the few places frequently being openly visited by yokai and humans (separately, yokai got a backdoor entryway). Recently, however, they’re more likely to be at or working the counter through either entrance.

Despite that change and the growth in employees, Celeste still prefers the quieter atmosphere in the morning of just the two of them taking early morning inventory and setting up shop before the morning rush. Leo also wouldn’t have it any other way, especially when she more than happily tells him about his dad’s old acting days between baking pies and frosting cakes.

“Yoshi dragged me to every jeweler in the area to find Big Mama a ring to propose with. We’d spent hours in each one as he personally studied each diamond to ensure it was perfect for his ‘sassy sugar badger’,” She recalls in jest as she tops a few pies with their crusts, setting each one on an oven rack after she tops the last one on the counter. Leo passes her the next set, taking the set cooling on the other rack and setting them on display, “Publicists were buzzing left and right trying to figure out who managed to tie Lou Jitsu down and I was trying to put his focus on literally anything else. She always managed to turn him into a lovesick mess with just a glance in his direction.”

She exhales after that batch, dusting her hands before grabbing a towel and cleaning the rest of the stray dough from her fingers. She glances over to his work, giving a smile of approval at his case work before her eyes catches sight of the pyramid he made with the mini, free sample cupcakes. She quirks an eyebrow, a hand making it’s way to her hip out of instinct as she awaits his explanation. Leo is, of course, ready to present, a wide grin coming to his lips as he gestures towards his creation, “Pizzazzed your free samples, Auntie! You’re welcome.”

“And if the tower falls? The others always get upset when they can’t replicate this beauty, Leonardo,” Celeste is unable to fight her own smile at his enthusiasm, even if they have this conversation at least twice a week since she started doing the mini cupcakes as free samples. He always gets excited when he manages to make it stand higher and higher with each passing morning and she can’t deny that the presentation draws people to try them while they’re waiting. Her only problem is that they are almost never able to get it back to how he did, somehow, and there’s only been a few gravitational incidents.

“Then it was never meant to be replicated by anyone else. Not my fault they aren’t as cool and amazing as moi.” He reiterates, as he always does in some way or another.

Celeste can’t find a retort, letting out a snort as she takes her apron off, take those pies out when the timer beeps, baby,” She mentions as she heads towards the backroom to clean her hands, “If someone comes in for an order while I’m in the back, it’s probably someone named Stone. They’re a yokai and ordered the nirvana cake I set to the side. Make sure he pays you.”

“You can count on me, Auntie!” He more than happily calls back. It’s rare she asks him to work the counter, but it’s also rare for her to get orders this early. Typically, they get it the day before if it’s for an early morning to midday function and it’s not often someone runs in with a last minute need for a baked good. If someone is in this early, it’s an office worker or desperate spouse that just remembered an important date, or a mutant or yokai that wants to avoid as much human interaction as possible (which is very hard in New York City, but to each their own).

Like normal, he grabs a broom and gets to sweeping the floors for her so she’s got less to worry about later, straightening decor along the way to extenuate the feng shui of the environment. By the time he’s covered most of the main floor, the timer beeps and he teleports over to the oven mitts. He puts them on, turning the oven off, and begins taking tins out. He sets them on the cooling rack, smiling proudly down at them like he did the work, and takes the mitts off before setting them to hang in their original place.

As he finishes, Celeste comes back out with a pencil pushed between her ear and a pen in her hair. Her (e/c) eyes, practically identical in shade to both her daughters (one of the few things they all have in common) shine with the determination they usually have after she spends a minute in the back, where she actually takes a bit to hype herself up before taking on her bakery persona. She inhales deeply, nose filing with the aroma of fresh bread and stirred frosting, before exhaling enough for her shoulders to visibly relax. Had he not known she was close in age to his own father, he’d assume she was significantly younger, especially when the only indicator of her age was her kids and the stress bags she’d have from time to time. Apparently, those are also recent because he doesn’t remember her having them a couple of years ago.

“(Y/n) mentioned you and your friends were hanging out tonight. Stop by and pick up some things before you guys head that way, alright?” She states, picking up her work book and flipping to the next available page. She writes the date at the top, quickly jotting down her orders for the day. She’s in work mode already, the customer service tone inching its way into the end of her words with little struggle. She’s perfected it down to a science, sounding like an almost entirely different person. It’s almost scary.

“Yes ma’am,” Leo responds out of instinct, noting it for later in the back of his brain. He watches as she grips her pencil like it’s a weapon, her hand fluidly moving across the white expanses of the sheet like it’s second nature at this point. It’s almost inhuman, but she insists it makes her just as human as any other individual living in New York. She never talks about home, “Hey, Auntie-,”

The doors to the bakery open with a soft ding from the bell at the top, alerting them to the customer coming in. She’d warned him ahead that they’d be there, but he didn’t actually expect them to come before he left. She straightens up quicker than Leo can react, a soft smile resting along her lips as she turns her full attention to the customer, “Good morning. Are you here for a pick up?”

Leo turns his attention to the figure making its way towards them and he doesn’t expect the sight in front of him. An all too familiar purple hippo walks in, a nervous bounce in his step as he inches his way further into the building. He’s wearing different attire than usual, trading in his usual magician getup for a pair of jeans and a tucked, white button up. A bit of his chest is left out from the few buttons he left open, giving the hint of jest black chest hair, groomed. He’s not used to seeing him without his tiny companion whose name he can never seem to remember, but he’s more bamboozled by the switch in outfit than his unusual loneliness.

From the way Hypno flinches, he doesn’t expect to see the red-eared slider either, a nervous glaze filling his ruby eyes. A flushed hue comes to his cheeks at being caught, especially by one of the annoying terrapins, but Leo’s more amused at seeing him draped in such normal clothes in such a normal setting.

“Nice to see you again, sir,” Celeste speaks up, slicing through the thick air with her customer service voice, sweet with a twinge of coaxing laced in. It scares Leo each time he hears it due to her sounding like a completely different person from the woman he grew up hearing.

Like any other person who hears it, Hypno nearly melts into a puddle of purple goop. He quickly shoves his big hands into his pocket, fist emerging with a stack of cash that’s nearly the same size. He fills the tip jar before happily handing the rest of Celeste without bothering to count it, “Keep the change, good madam. A token of my appreciation for your fine work, as always.”

His blue mask rises with his eyebrow lines as he analyzes the exchange, practiced in movement. Celeste sets the change in a spare jar, grabbing the victory cake from behind her. She boxes the sponge cake up, topped with vanilla frosting and various berries, before she hands it off to Hypno, his fingers completely enveloping the tiny box, “Hope you enjoy! I added the tiny worm embroidery on the sides like you requested.”

“I can’t imagine what you could possibly be celebrating when my brothers and I have stopped every evil scheme you’ve come up with the past year,” Leo spits out before he can be stopped, eyeing his blue painted nail beds. He watches purple arms flex under the white sleeves of his button up, the seams threatening to pop if the muscles under them wound up anymore.

He catches the side eye from Celeste out the corner of his eye, grin slightly faltering at the plausible lecture he’d get about the bakery being a safe environment. She deeply inhales, smile slightly more strained as she pushes the interaction along, “I’m sure there’s other victories worth celebrating, regardless of who sees. I hope you and your partner enjoy every last bit of it!”

“Thank you, Miss Celeste,” Hypno responds with a strained smile of his own, “I shall take my leave… and plan my next visit according to your little… buddy’s time…” He mumbles the last bit as he heads towards the door, sending the shop’s owner one last wave before stepping back into the world.

Suddenly, the room feels a little colder, the figure beside him stiffening a little as she allows her customer service persona to drop. She slowly turns towards him, staring at him through her lashes.

“Leonardo Hamato…,” Despite his growth spurt putting him at a height taller than her, he feels so small next to her. He almost feels like a child again, her voice scarily soft as she speaks his full name. While his dad was never big on the disciplinary side of things, Celeste’s strict parent voice still managed to send chills down his spine, “What’s the policy for the front counter?”

He feels himself begin to sweat as every instance of her reminding him to leave swords at the door pops into his mind. He’s normally not at the counter when one of their foes waltzes into the bakery so he never really heeded the warnings, but now he’s wishing he’d baked it into his skull as much as he did any other of her front rules, “Swords at the door…”

“Swords at the door. And that includes?”

“Pointing out their failed plans of villainy…”

Celeste lets out a small sigh at his response, shaking her head as she picks up her clipboard. She pulls the pen from behind her ear and gets back to scribbling, “Deducting 3 free pies from your monthly inventory-,”

“WHAT? AUNTIE, THAT’S NOT FAIR-“

“Rules are rules, Mr. Hamato,” She mutters back, setting her pen back behind her ear and setting the clipboard back down. She turns to him, an unamused look in her golden (e/c) eyes as she looks him over.

As he opens his mouth to retort and beg for his privileges back, the bell above the door rings once more. A certain box turtle bounces in, a big grin on his face as he slides further inside the facility. Small bunches of snow rest on his shoulders, melting away as he approaches the counter. A covered basket rests in his elbow, the blanket matching the threads of his mask in duller tints. A drooping flower hangs out the side and a tiny, white slip of paper stick out the side.

“Morning, Auntie,” He sets the basket in front of them on the counter, unknowing of the heartbreaking punishment he’d walked in on. He pushes it further in front of her, his usual peace offering in case his older brother managed to cause her any headache within the hours he’d been in her presence, “Lunch for today has Hawaiian grilled cheeses and a thermos of tomato soup, to beat the cold, and I bought a lotto ticket at the convenience store down the road. My readings for the day say we’re having a very lucky day!”

She chuckles at the notion, tugging the slip out first and handing it right back to him, “You’d need it more than me if it’s a winner.” She sets the rest of the continents of the basket under the counter, filling its vacant spot with a medium muffin, “Applesauce. Didn’t know if you had breakfast, so I played it safe.”

“Thank you,” He happily swipes it off the plate, humming as he takes a bite of the warm bread.

“You didn’t offer me an Applesauce muffin,” Leo grumbles with a small pout, glaring at the delicacy resting between Mikey’s fingers.

Celeste gives his shoulder a squeeze as she lifts the basket and carries it towards her back office, “I made you breakfast this morning!”

He simply huffs at her answer, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he turns the rest of his attention to his brother, “Hypno came in earlier. Picked up a victory cake and there was no worm in sight.”

“What would he need a victory cake for if they haven’t had a successful heist in months?”

“That’s what I asked! Risked 3 free pies this month for it and got no answer,” Leo rolls his eyes as he says it, frown deepening at the very recent memory, “I’ll never work the counter again.”

“We both know that’s not true in the slightest,” Celeste comes back with a knowing grin on her face, lightly tugging on Leo’s cheek “I’m assuming you’ve come to take your brother back? He’s free from his duties for the day.”

“Yes, indeedy. Raph has a new training regiment he wants to try before we hit the town tonight,” Mikey finished the rest of his muffin before he continues, “And you’re on snack detail for leaving without saying anything last night.”

“Tsk tsk, you snuck into my daughter’s room and didn’t let any of your kin know? You’re really risking my approval, Mr. Hamato,” Celeste teases, also leaning over the counter.

Leo’s taking off his apron as he scoffs, hanging the garment on one of the back hangers. He takes his swords from the staff cubby (which he uses to be fair) and sets them in their holsters. He flicks the tails of his mask behind his shoulder, pursing his lips, “We both know you love me, auntie.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you, sir,” She quips back.

Mikey giggles at her words, leaning forward as he also takes a jab at the red-eared slider, “You’re giving a lot of red flags with your behaviors, mister. (Y/n) doesn’t need a bad influence as a significant other.”

“Ha ha, you’re both soooo funny,” Leo rolls his eyes as he jumps over the counter, tugging his swords from their holsters. He cuts both through the air, the bright blue light sparking before enlarging into the circular portal. He shoves his little brother through first, sending a wave to the older woman as he begins to pass through himself, “I’ll see you later, Miss Celeste. Hope you change your mind about my free desserts for the month!”

He closes the portal before he gets a response, turning away from the recently closed travel way to see he portaled them to the center of their half pipe. The noises of the lair immediately fill his senses, followed by the soft groaning of Michelangelo as he lays on the floor from landing out of the portal. He holds his hand out, helping him stand to his feet.

“Nice of you to come home this mornin’, Leo,” His eldest brother greets as he steps into the room, arms crossed like a disgruntled father. It’s harder to be intimidated by the snapping turtle when he’s got a toothbrush sticking out from between his arms.

Leo instead plays it off by stretching his arms above his head. He rests his palms behind them after, walking past his brothers towards his bedroom, “I would’ve stayed all night if plush, pink pillows weren’t calling my name,” He turns back to them as gets to the door, sending them a small smirk as he pushes it open, “I’ll pick up snacks during patrol.”
~~~~~~

(Y/n) happily welcomes the blast of heat that hits her face as she opens the secret entrance to Run of The Mill, quickly stepping inside to escape the bitter cold of New York City. She flits to the back, her various coworkers trying to set up for the day while the early set of patrons lounge about for the day. She mentally prepares herself as he changes into her uniform, taking the time to remind herself of her job’s environment and repeats to keep as much of a smile as possible throughout.

She tightens the tie on her uniform, dusting off the black skirt and adjusting the red apron, ensuring the bow she always ties in the back is presentable and even. Like always, she gives her cheeks a small smack, rubbing the burning area with small pats in between. Despite working there for a year now, she still has to remind herself that yokai very much come in different shapes and sizes, yet she still manages to be surprised every once in a while when someone who looks like no one she’s ever seen walks in. She’s the only human-esque person that works there, so a lot of the patrons find her amusing. Well, she’s amusing until she has to threaten to blast a laser through someone’s face for worker mistreatment, then she’s entertaining.

Despite a few setbacks, she relatively enjoys working there. In general, she finds herself feeling more comfortable in the Hidden City as opposed to the regular streets of New York. To her, the deep parts of the hidden city feel more cozy and welcoming than the harsh reality of the upper parts of the area; she knows she’s lucky to even have access to this part of the world. Not to say New York doesn’t have its perks, the Big Apple is just as exciting and interesting, but in a different, familiar way.

Her coworkers are some of the coolest adults she’s met, even if they can be a little scary when you’re on their bad sides. Señor Hueso is a pretty funny guy and he’s been teaching her a bit of Spanish between the work hours to fill in the gaps of her shift. He’s begged her to let him know if a certain set plan on passing through and she does her best to alert him when they tell her. Capitán Piel is a newer addition to the team and causes his brother as many headaches as he does joy. After getting in trouble for helping him in a few smaller pranks, she’s been stationed as far away from him as possible, but that has yet to stop him from loitering in her area and snatching a few things from the richer patrons.

Exploding Frankie is kind enough to give her a head’s up ahead of any birthday events, which is normally when she takes her break and hides away in Señor Heuso’s office. She almost never sees Ms. Minotaur and she kind of prefers it that way after the incident with the turtles in the maze the week before she’d fully started. There’s no bad blood between the two of them specifically, but the anxiety of her distaste of the brothers hits (Y/n) each time she passes their picture on the wall of shame. Other yokai fill the worker roster, but (Y/n)’s become specifically acquainted with the few her hours tend to coincide with.

“Hey, (Y/n),” She perks up at the call of her name, turning around to see Aska’s head popping into the door. There’s a few sheets of paper hanging from her antlers, nothing compared to how full they’d be a few hours from now, “Me and Carmen already agreed to take the east and west wings. You’re left with the middle.”

Aska was a deer-esque yokai, similar in appearance to a Sika Deer. White spots dotted along the fur of her back, dipping into her uniform. Her fur was a darker shade of ginger and she always kept a bandana on her somewhere. From the few conversations they’d had, Aska seemed really into old school action movies and big on martial arts. Their first personal conversation had been during their breaks when (Y/n) noticed a Lou Jitsu pin she’d been sporting that day. Carmen, on the other hand, was a yokai similar to an axolotl. She was a dark blue with light shades of pink on the tips of her scales and held eyes that shined like dark pools of chocolate. She was slippery and used the natural fluidity to her advantage constantly, especially during rush hours. She was also big on action movies, but preferred kickboxing underdogs over the ninjutsu and martial arts Aska was fond of. She keeps her curly black hair pulled back into a bun, coils and curls sticking out the top in a satisfying manner.

They were usually assigned early mornings together, released from their duties between the lunch and dinner rushes. (Y/n) typically stayed later, a precaution by Hueso in case her companions decided to stop by kind of late. Others would ease in throughout the day, but the three were consistently paired together, “The middle usually isn’t filled until lunchtime though.”

Aska snickers at the groan (Y/n) lets out, leaving out the door as she calls, “Should’ve gotten here a little earlier then.”

With one last huff, (Y/n) steps out to the floor, fixing her work smile into her mouth and ingraining it as though her life depends on it. If things were a little different, smiling would probably be exactly what keeps her alive, especially when she tends to get bigger tips from the action.

Aska and Carmen are already scurrying about, both holding a notepad that’s already been ripped out of a few times. Despite the restaurant being the most empty it’ll be until after lunch rush, it’s still its own vibe of hectic. Keeping track of orders is apart of that ordeal.

“What’s the special for today, Carmen?” It’s empty enough that orders can be heard from across the way. He asks every morning, even if he gets the same thing every time.

“Deep shit pepperoni and bacon,” Her sleepy brain supplies, her big, brown eyes glazed over as she tries to keep them open. She’s never been a morning person.

“Deep shit?”

“Ye- Oops,” She perks awake at that, glancing down at her notebook before correcting herself, “Deep dish! Sorry, Cal.”

He laughs at her mistake, flipping through the menu like he’s actually looking, “Get it together, girl.” He sets the menu closed, pressing it towards her, “Lemme get my usual.”

“The day starts like the rest we’ve seen, another carbon copy of an old routine,” She begins singing as she takes the menu from him, scribbling down the order before she shoves the thick plastic under her arm. Cal doesn’t react, instead smiling down at his phone.

“Days keep coming,” Aska continues with the set tempo, hip-bumping (Y/n) as she passes by her. She rips her ticket out, setting it over the counter towards the kitchen.

(Y/n) doesn’t realize she’s humming along until she adds on, her lips moving faster than her brain can compute, “One out, one in.”

“They keep coming,” The three sing at once, leaning together against the counter while the wait for new patrons to come in or their orders to finish.

They all jump at the call Cal makes towards them, “And make the coffee strong enough to chew!” They giggle at his request, Carmen sending him a simple thumbs up in response.

“I don’t know what I wish I had, but there’s no time now for thinking things like that,” Carmen continues, slouching into the counter enough for the metal to dig into her side. She grimaced slightly, sighing out, “We’ve got too much to do.”

“Too much to do,” Aska and (Y/n) supply.

“All these same things. We’re always…,” The three turn towards the counter as they hear the bell ring, the first finished pitcher of coffee awaiting them. Carmen reached for it first, pouring her patron’s mug before handing it off to Aska. Aska’s plate holds three mugs already, a typical morning for her as she slowly attempts to one-up herself through the day. The three all turn at once, harmonizing as the belt the next line out, “Opening uuuuuup, letting the day in!”

(Y/n) follows Aska out of instinct, snatching one of the cups from her plate and setting it down at the first table they stop. While she waits for her spaces to be filled, she assists her coworkers and keeps up conversation. Eventually, all the conversations relap by the end of their shifts, sometimes in slightly ridiculous ways.

“Over a cup, we’ll say ‘Hello, how ya been?’” The two smile down at the guy at the table before moving in to an older businesswoman sitting in a corner. The lady tips in advance, which Aska happily pockets into her bra, “‘Thank you, come again!’ Some things ne~ver chaange!”

“I wouldn’t call this place a happy end, but I’ve been ‘round the block and just came back again,” Aska picks up the note by herself as they move to the next table, setting the final mug down. There’s a small chip on the handle. She tucks the black pan into her elbow. Aska had once aspired to work for Big Momma at the Battle Nexus, either as a champion or in the main entourage. She’d set off one day to achieve something similar, but she came back a few months later. Her tune changed a little, but she hung around Captain Piel a bit more. She hip-bumps (Y/n) once more before she walks further ahead, a soft smile on her face as she glances around, “This restaurant isn’t much, but sometimes home is where your ass ends up.”

“Order up!” They hear Ms. Minotaur call from the back, a couple of pies sitting at the counter and steaming.

(Y/n) heads that way out of instinct and just in case either of the slightly older girls need assistance with their orders. They move faster than she can assist, the red-furred deer balancing pizzas down her aisle while the blue axolotl has a few meal items filling her own hands. She leans against the counter as she waits for a patron to finally sit in her area, perking up once a tiger lady sits down.

“Ordered up is how the day will find me,” She happily sings as she tugs her pencil from behind her ear, holding the writing utensil to her paper as she awaits her order, “Everything in its place and time,” She neatly writes each thing the lady says down, despite her singing. Somehow she just knows, continuing on towards the counter to set the order in the spinning wheel. While Carmen and Aska have their complaints about certain parts of their days feeling repetitive, (Y/n) finds it to be the saving grace for her typically hectic days, even if they have a tendency to be a little formulaic. This is the calm before whatever storm the day may bring, “And I like the way most of the days look exactly the same.”

Ms. Minotaur calls out again, increasing in speed with each of her orders. The floor begins to slowly fill with various faces and bodies, some familiar and others blurring into the background. They shift in and out of shape, tables filling and emptying as time blends together. (Y/n) and her coworkers swap between tables, the lines of their “assigned” areas mixing together into an organized mess. They’ll split the tips later anyway…

“Check the clock,” In tandem, the girls check their watches. Carmen looks exasperated as she groans out, Aska shrugs it off with a small hum, and (Y/n) softly sighs before following it with a small grin, “Tick, tick, tock!”

“Don’t stop!” They hear the head chef call out again, her red eyes peeking out at them. Her eyebrows are furrowed, pointed in warning. The fatigue is slowly starting to catch up, a sign of the incoming rush alongside the quickness growing through the patrons.

Captain Piel passes by them, sneaking in with the newest batch of customers. His grin is cheeky as ever, gums included, as he jests, “Serve with smile!”

Hueso would kill him if he heard him.

“Hurry up, fill the coffee cup,” The girls sing at once, each coincidently holding a pitcher in their hand as they fill or refill a mug. Carmen is the first to test against the counter, (Y/n) then Aska following suit, “And then in a while, take a breath when you need to be reminded that with days like these we can only do the best we can,”

Carmen moves to check her watch, an amused light filling her chocolate orbs as she pushes her wrist towards her associates. The other two glance down, separate sighs of relief sounding from their chests as they look up to confirm the emptiness of the facility. Somehow, they’d managed to sing their way through the day and now the last remnants of the rush were slowly filling out.

“Til we do it again,” They happily chirp, their exhausted bodies leaning into one another as they let themselves catch their breath. How they got through a whole shift with no break was a miracle they’d never be able to answer, but (Y/n) will happily take the magical time passing abilities of whatever the singing brings.

“Let’s go, guys! It’s pizza time,” The group of girls straighten as they hear familiar voices walk into the joint, (Y/n)’s infamous friends bringing a new energy into the restaurant despite how dead it mostly is now. She can only playfully roll her (e/c) eyes, a soft smirk playing up into her lips as they roughhouse further inside. April and Sunita follow close behind, one joyfully unamused and the other happily smiling along with the excitement.

“Opening uuup, letting the day in,” The girls begin to sing again, Carmen gripping (Y/n) shoulder before giving it a soft pat. Aska gives her another hip bump, pushing her a little further, “Opening uuup, some things never changeeee.”

“Hello, how ya been?” Carmen sings first, untying her apron as she starts heading towards the back room.

Aska is right behind her, the rest of her apron already tugged off her body and slung across her forearm, “Thank you, come again.”

(Y/n) watches them step off with a small smile, tugging her pencil from behind her ear and hugging the notebook closer to her chest. She sweats a little bit as she approaches her friends’ table, “Some things ne~ver change…”

Like always, multiple conversations and one big one are happening at once as she steps up to the table. Donatello is typing away at his tablet, goggles resting over his eyes while his lips rest in a flat line. Michelangelo has a thick slip of paper tightly held between his fingers, managing to animatedly talk to April and Sunita. (Y/n) assumes it’s about that very paper from how he motions towards it, stars dancing through his eyes each time he chances a glance at it. Leonardo and Raphael are bantering away about god knows what, but the snapping turtle is very unimpressed with whatever his younger brother is chattering on about.

(Y/n) moistens her lips with her tongue, chapped from the busy day of working and singing she’d endured. She’s unable to prevent the genuine smile that spreads across them, any exhaustion from the day dissipating as she stands in the presence of her friend group, “Good evening, my fine and esteemed guests. What can I start you with today?”

However, an unusual aura surrounds (Y/n) as she stands before them, vibrant and bold in a way they aren’t used to seeing right after the lunch rush. Her brain feels fuzzy, tickling her skin as it bubbles and spreads through the rest of her body. Her cheeks flush with a soft honeydew, eyes shining brighter than the morning sun. She’s practically glowing, each step holding a little float in them. But like, literally. She is literally hovering off the ground.

“Safe to say you had an amazing shift today, ‘(N/n)?” Leo is the first to tease, leaning forward into his hand as his eyes drink her in. He’s trying to fight down the warmth growing in his face, the added effects heightening her beauty in a way he can barely handle. The others can feel it too, obvious from the way they’ve all grown quiet just to take it all in. It’s almost addictive.

“It went by waaaay faster than usual,” She chirps, a bit of a dazed look in her (e/c) irises as she seemingly stares off a little. She’s drunk on the sudden happiness, flustered from the overwhelming butterflies filling her stomach. She's sure that is NOT normal, “Weird thing happened actually. Completely forgot until it happened, but-,”

“(Y/n), your pheromones are off the charts!” Donnie finally speaks up, his device loudly beeping as he holds it out towards her. It goes flying out of his hands, circling around her as it scans her top to bottom and left to right.

“D-Donnie! Is it supposed to be doing that?” She attempts to step away from it a few times, only for it to follow and continue its observations. The high feeling slowly begins to disappear, embarrassment creeping into its place. Self consciousness fills her veins as she suddenly feels her feet touch the floor with a small tap. She stiffens a bit, glancing down at her black shoes, cheeks lighting up, “Was I free-floating? Craaaap…”

“Donnie, explanation please?” Raph speaks up as he turns his attention to the younger twin, who is tapping at his wristwatch like his fingers are running a marathon.

Donnie glances towards him for a moment before fully turning his attention back to (Y/n), stopping his clicking fingers to check the readings on it, “Did something happen?! Did you finally sing?! How long were you floating for and did it happen after the hypothetical singing?! Did anything happen overnight?! I must know for my research and I didn’t know Leonard was going to your abode, otherwise I would’ve sent a secret camera with him to analyze all your movements-,”

“Don, slow down,” April places her hand on his shoulder, removing it as soon as he tenses up. He pushes his goggles to rest on his head, dead shot eyes making themselves known. It’s like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep at all,” Ah, that checks out, “I was too busy trying to figure out all this singing business.”

“Singing business?” Sunita questions, tilting her head as she glances around the table. She accidentally presses her finger a little too far, the goo easily slipping into the goo of her chin, “I’m a little confused…?”

“Weird magical singing stuff keeps happening around (Y/n). It makes you feel all warm inside,” Mikey supplies, hugging his ticket closer as he wraps his arms around himself, “Donnie’s looking into it.”

“ANYWAY,” Donnie interjects, calling his little device back to his robotic shell. He types a few things into his communicator, staring into (Y/n)’s eyes with his sleep-deprived ones, “Have you or haven’t you sung yet?”

“I sung, I sung,” She responds, holding her hands up defensively, “Just keep your little analyzer thing on a leash, please. He’s scaring me,” she mumbles after, glancing to the side. She slides in next to Leo, looking around to make sure Señor Hueso isn’t looking before getting a little comfortable, “It happened so naturally. I didn’t even realize until the harmonizing.”

“And we missed it? Your singing voice is so amazing, I feel cheated!” Leo grumbles, pressing his face into the table.

Raph reassuringly pats the back of his shell, a knowing look in his eyes as he stares down at his younger brother, “I’m sure you’ll get another chance, Leo.”

Donnie hums in response, typing away again. He continues to type this time as he further analyzes, “You seem to have a stronger response to it, seeing as you started involuntarily using your abilities. Maybe the two are connected… but I can’t say for certain until further tests are done.”

“Figures,” She responds, her brain slowly beginning to fry the more Donnie contemplates. Leo’s knee lightly hits her thigh, garnering her attention enough for him to flash his usual grin. She doesn’t fight the smile that grows in response, holding her pencil up as she looks around the table, “Now, I can’t clock out until I get your orders down, so please tell me what you want to eat or I will let you starve for extra cash…”

Chapter Text

The gang all circle around the lair, filling out the TV room as they set up for their planned karaoke night. Casey planned to pop in a little later, rounding out their group for the night to an even number. Per usual, they’d start out strong and slowly the number would dwindle through the night until the living area was left with each member of the group conked out.

“Snack table’s looking kind of empty, ‘Nardo,” Donnie points out as he sets the finishing touches on setting up the karaoke machine. He lifts his goggles, eyes kinder to look at after they forced him to take a nap sometime between getting back and setting up, “Don’t tell me you forgot… again.”

“I didn’t forget!” Leo is quick to retort as he lounges back against the couch, arms resting behind his head while his crossed feet are propped up on the table. He snuggles further into the plush cushions, courteous of (Y/n)’s space. They’re a little too close to each other, skin touching despite there being enough space on the couch for the opposite. If it were his choice, they'd be even closer, “I just… didn’t think about it until now. Technically not forgetting!”

“That’s the very definition of forgettin,” Raph tosses a pillow across the room in that direction, hitting the red-eared slider directly in the face, “Go get them, Mikey’ll go with you to make sure you get the right thing.”

“I’ll go too,” (Y/n) happily announces, standing as soon as the words leave her lips. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, small bits of skin coming off, “I’m still feeling a little jittery and need to stretch my legs.”

“Snack run!” Mikey follows, the two already heading towards the entryway without the person who was meant to be getting the snacks anyway. Said person grumbled as he got up from his seat, dragging along behind them as they entered into the sewers.

The trek to the surface didn’t take long, the trio quickly making their way to the nearest convenience store and grabbing as many snacks as their arms could carry.

“My horoscope was all wrong for the day. I scratched the ticket and didn’t win anything except another free ticket,” Mikey huffed as they counted the snacks before deciding whether or not they may need more. He’d finally decided to see if his winnings were lucky once they were all gathered around at Run of The Mill, only to be sorely disappointed at the results, “And I almost gave that card to your mom. She would’ve been so disappointed after I hyped it up so much!”

“Well, my mom doesn’t really believe in the lottery anyway, so I doubt it would’ve mattered all that much,” (Y/n) mentions, finishing up her inventory before setting them on the counter. The guy was sitting in the back, letting them take their time to gather what all they’d need for the night, a common weekly routine at this point with how often they’d all get together, “You were lucky to get another for free, maybe that’s the luck your horoscope was talking about-“

“Or, and hear me out, baby brother,” Leo slides between the two of them as he sets down all the drinks he was holding, searching each nook and cranny of his person for his wallet. As he pulls it out, (Y/n)’s glad she’d decided to tag along, “Maybe the free ticket is the winnings? Cash that bad boy in and it’ll definitely be a winner, champ.”

Mikey looks over his lottery ticket, mask crinkling from the unsure stare he gives it. His hand begins to tremble as the ticket’s weight seems to double.

“Mikey, come on,” (Y/n) crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, head tilted as she reads further into his face, “Even if you traded it in, could you handle the possibility-,”

“-Small possibility-,”

“‘Small’ possibility of losing again- EEK!” Mikey slams the ticket down on the counter as the cashier comes out, both the man and (Y/n) flinching from the notion. The cashier only nods his head afterward, flicking the lid to the paper’s containers and handing Mikey one of the flimsier sheets, “Yeah, that makes sense…”

He furiously scratches at the patches while they get all of their items ringed up, the cashier tiredly scanning and bagging each item. (Y/n) and Leonardo glance at each other, the flicking of plastic and scratching noises in the background as they frown and grin respectively. He leans a little closer, a head over her now since his growth spurt last year. He proudly holds it over her head, mostly because they’re not the same height anymore. He dreamed, wished, hoped, and prayed for the day he’d finally be taller than her. It was like every fantasy coming together when it finally happened.

“Mikey’ll be on this until we do karaoke tonight, just let him get what’s left of it out of his system,” He attempts to explain, peeking over at his brother for a moment before allowing his eyes to land on his closest friend in front of him. He can’t help but be mesmerized by the big, (e/c) eyes looking up at him, his stomach fluttering despite the teasing disappointment swimming within them. Her glow from when they’d stopped by at the end of her shift had significantly dimmed, yet the natural parts of her beauty continued on without their enhancement.

“Yeah, but I don’t think we should encourage him to keep going, y’know? Even if he hasn’t spent much money on them, I think his pile on the counters growing too steep…” Deep down, he’s wondering if he’ll get to witness that glowing again, the light and aura surrounding her in an intoxicating way similar to the aura they’d all received during the fight against Shredder a year or so back. It was different from the Hamato aura and he couldn’t place his finger on how. Regardless, he wants to see it again, feel it again while they’re all goofing around later. Donnie’s expressed the possibility with how few songs she’d experienced today in comparison.

“OH COME ON!” The two jump a little as their companion shouts, various lottery tickets littering the area around him as he glared down at the specific one in front of him. Each one won a free extra ticket, including the main one within his vicinity. He’s on the verge of popping a blood vessel, veins sticking from his clenched fists. He holds the lottery ticket towards the cashier, his hand trembling as though he’ll break at any moment, “Give me another one, now.”

The duo glance at one another for a moment before both move to fix the situation. Leo immediately grabs hold of his brother’s hand just as the exchange is made, turning him away from the cash register. He sets a few bags in his younger brother’s hand, setting the exact amount of cash on the counter as he grabs his own set of bags and begins leading Mikey to the door. (Y/n) grabs the rest, bidding the cashier a good night and issuing any needed apologies before the trio leave.

“Hey, bud,” Leo speaks up once they’re back to standing in front of the store’s entrance, the big windows fogged over as their sills continue to fill with the snow. Flurries float through the air, clouds slowly beginning to roll in for another wave of flakes for tomorrow. Leo’s fingers walk along the back of Mikey’s shell, resting comfortably on his shoulders as he steers him towards the nearest alley with a manhole, “I know you really want to win that lottery money, but sometimes you gotta know when to stop and you definitely surpassed when it was time to stop.”

“It wasn’t about the money, Leo,” He responds, his voice despondent as a look fills his eyes. He stares straight ahead, letting them lead him wherever. The only sure sign of his soul still being within his body is how tightly he grasps the bags between his green fingers, “I kept winning free lottery tickets… And only free lottery tickets…” He stops as he looks down at the remaining one in his hand, the rare sight of fear clouding them as he takes it in, “This one’s probably going to give me a free lottery ticket too… Isn’t it?”

(Y/n) quickly snatches it from his hand, placing it inside her puffer jacket’s pocket furthest away from the box turtle. She digs through one of the bags she’s holding, tugging one of the sweeter snacks out and placing it in the slip’s place, “Let’s not focus on that right now. Eat a snack,” It’s a long stick, caramel on the outside and vanilla creme on the inside. It was one of the few cow tails she’d snatched up while perusing the store, a rare thing for her to share, “It’ll put your mind at ease.”

Mikey sighs before pushing it inside his mouth, muffling around it before tugging the lower half away with his teeth. He continues to mutter behind it, taking another chomp out of it while Leo lifts the manhole cover.

“Let it all out, bud. That’s the spirit,” He glances up at his little brother, stepping aside so the others can go ahead of him. Mikey finishes up the remainder of his cow tail and hops down the manhole first, the two following behind him, “Maybe tomorrow it’ll change? That’s how those readings work, right?”

Leo motions for help towards their comrade donned in a pink, her brain quickly picking up the que, “Yeah, maybe it’ll be something completely different when you scrape it tomorrow,” She continues from where he left off, leading the two turtles through. She begins to skip a little, her face brightening as a smile begins tugging at her lips, “It’s karaoke night! Be happy, please.”

Her puffer jacket thumps against itself as she continues further ahead of them. Mikey does perk up a bit, just as the three enter back into the lair. The warm air fully encapsulates them, any discoloration from the cold easing away the longer they sit under the warmth of the heater. They set the bags around the center table, everyone beginning to unpack them and set the snacks up. Casey came in while they were out, comfortably taking up the space between April and Raph.

Once the group finishes setting up, they draw straws for the order of the first round. They do it every time, just to properly get everyone in the mood in a fair way before letting rock-paper-scissors take the reins for the remainder of the night. It’s less straws and more picking numbers from a hat, this one being an old puffer hat neither of the boys wear anymore but keep for the sake (and memory) of it.

Once numbers are drawn, everyone gets a little more comfortable. Mikey takes the mic first, like always (the draw is always rigged). While he begins scrolling through the list of options, Donnie starts rummaging through some box. No one knows how he got hold of this box or when he did, but it takes it around the group and adorns everyone with his Donnie sensors, ensuring they’re as tight and snug as they need to be so they don’t fall off.

Cass leans over towards April and Sunita, lifting her hand to cover her whispering, “This about that magic singing thing?”

“Yep,” It does little to cover their small gossip, the three leaning to observe a little better. April’s arms are crossed as she lets Donnie apply his tech, unbothered as he adjusts them so as to not mess up her hair. Casey attempts to remain as cool, flinching a little as the cold metal touches her olive skin. The tech meshes within Sunita’s goo, a little of the substance getting on Donnie’s fingers. He’s quick to flick it back on instinct, moving on almost as fast.

Mike remains unbothered, continuing with his song selection despite his older brother moving around his motions. Leo attempts to fight him off, giving in when the softshell gives his head a smack, “Donald, what are these for?”

“No one signed or consented to any of your experiment consent forms, Don!” Raph swats at the younger twin, who uses his agility to his advantage to get them on anyway.

“The last form’s renewal date has yet to hit, so technically all of you have,” Donnie informs as he continues to move along the group, adjusting the sensors so as not to disturb the coils of his friend’s head. He ends the line at (Y/n), an extra set being applied to her persons, “These are to analyze our inner chemical reactions during our karaoke sessions, just in case the strange phenomena surrounding (Y/n) here decides to rear its head in the midst of our hang time. Just pretend they’re not there so it doesn’t affect my data, please and thank you, fam.”

“Is this all really necessary, Donnie?” (Y/n) asks nervously, straightening as latches one onto her chest. She tilts her head as he backs away, tapping away at his wrist com.

A soft boom sounds from the mic as Mikey lightly taps it, a signal that he’s chosen his song and he’s ready to serenade their group. His usual beginner song begins scrolling across the screen in warning, Brand New Funk in bold letters followed by a blown up picture of a young Will Smith in his signature black tank from the music video.

“Yes,” Donnie responds simply as he settles in on one of the bean bag chairs, pushing it back against the wall so he can better observe the group.
~~~~

Despite his wishful hoping for another magical performance to happen, the moment never comes. The group have lost count of the amount of times they’ve all gone, slowly dropping like flies as they succumb to the lull of sleep in their veins into the late night. They’re all scrawled about the room, various states of disarray and tangled limbs littering the TV room’s floor.

Only two remain, the TV fully turned down as they take to a corner away from their sleeping companions. They’ve built a small fort around them, a phone flashlight sitting between them as they whisper about their days. Leo recounts an uneventful patrol and (Y/n) further expresses her feelings of singing through her work shift.

“It’s kind of weird,” She mentions, tugging a loose strand of hair away as she stairs at her tucked knees, “Aside from karaoke night, there wasnt much else singing…”

“Seems like a bummer to me,” He responds, leaning against his arm while his free hand shovels more popcorn into his mouth, “Maybe whatever’s going on is starting to wear off.”

A small silence envelops at that possible assessment, (e/c) eyes slowly easing up to gaze into those adjacent, further emphasized by the royal blue mask surrounding them. It is a chance that it could’ve only lasted a day or two, she’d never really considered it before. It felt like too small an amount of time for her to just take it as it was.

“Maybe,” She mumbles, cheeks puffing a little as she attempts to think further on it. Maybe her voice needed to be the last straw for it to finally wear off?

She hates to say it, but…, “You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

Yeah, she is. She’s very disappointed if it’s all over…

“It didn’t reach my mom yet, so I’d say it’s lucky,” She responds, laying onto her back. She wants to shut her eyes and ignore the plausible absence of the noise that had suddenly filled her life temporarily.

Of course, it hasn’t really been quiet the past few years. Her teenage years will be something for the books later on, but having something so personal and enjoyable for such a short period of time suddenly be yanked from her ust as quickly is near heartbreaking. She hates how attached she became in less than 48 hours, but maybe it’s for the best that it ends just as quickly as it began…

“Hey,” Leo follows suit, his plastron lightly tapping against the cold floor with a soft noise. He quickly turns on his side to face her, a small smile gracing his face as he takes in her features. (Y/n)’s sadness is apparent on her face, from the way her plump lips hold a soft downturn to the way her (e/c) orbs have glazed over. Even in her sadness, he thinks she’s extremely beautiful and it’s almost embarrassing how often he’s found himself pining over her recently, “Maybe it’ll come back tomorrow? And if it doesn’t, you’ve at least gotten those creative juices flowing.”

(Y/n) turns to properly face him in return, returning his smile with her own as she takes in his words. Her chest releases some of the tension as he finishes, demi-relieved to hear someone point out that the whole thing was beneficial regardless, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
~~~~~~

(Y/n)’s face scrunches up as a bright light shines into it, lighting up the back of her eyelids in an exhaustive way. She slowly blinks them open, attempting to adjust to the sunlight coming in…

Sunlight? Her eyes widen open as she realizes that she shouldn’t be feeling sunlight, especially not a light that leaves her as warm and fuzzy as it does. Neither should she be laying across something as plush and soft, the lair’s floors have never been as soft as the comforter she’s laid across. Her eyes bounce around her surroundings, taking in the soft tones of the room around her while she remains snuggled under a large blanket. Next to her is a somewhat familiar face, a darker shade of green and missing it’s their usual red crescents around his eyes. Despite the obvious changes in appearance, she’s able to put together that it’s him, his blue eyes holding a fondness as he looks her over.

“Leo…” Her voice comes out softer than she intends and his hand caresses her cheek. She doesn’t recognize any of this, her voice or this version of their bond. It all feels so wrong, like she’s in someone else’s shoes, “What are you doing?”

The space between them becomes smaller, her cheeks bursting with new warmth while he stares at her as though she’s his entire world. The area where his eyebrows would be furrow, slowly softening as his other hand comes up to lightly grasp her hip. She doesn’t realize she’s wearing silk pajamas until he pushes the fabric more into her skin, “Thinking…”

She finds herself laughing at his response, “Thinking pretty loudly about?”

“Us,” He responds, moving upward to press a peck against her forehead. He handles her with more care than she thought him capable, his kisses trailing down her face, “What we are now,” He kisses her nose, “How we should’ve been here so much sooner…” He ends it with a kiss to her lips, a thought that crossed her mind a few times throughout adolescence into her late teenage years that would keep her up late some nights, “It took us being here for me to say anything.”

“Maybe some rando should’ve threatened to propose to me sooner.”

“Don’t mention that,” He groans at the response she gives, burying them under the covers. As the darkness engulfs them, she feels his lips touch hers again.
~~~~~

(Y/n) takes in a deep breath as she shoots awake, her (e/c) eyes wide and her cheeks lightning up like a Christmas tree on a cold winter’s day next to an open fire. Her original surroundings have returned, their pillow fort from the late night of karaoke sagging downward as some of the foundation weakened from holding everything up for hours. Smells of caffeine in varying degrees fill the air as hustles and bustles from the kitchen accompany the atmosphere. There are still a few slack bodies filling the TV room around them, some noticeably missing.

It's a little more than helpful in calming her down, allowing the dream to properly flash through her mind so she can fully let it settle. The more she thinks about it, the more her cheeks fill with a deep honeydew. She gives them a smack, rubbing them as the pain begins to blossom in them. It enhances the red, but in a slightly different tone.

The body next to her groans, rolling over. A singular blue eye peaks up at her, tired but equally as worried as it takes in her form. There’s a hint of the fondness that she saw in her dreams, but it doesn’t feel nearly as intense to her.

“Everything okay?” His voice is low, from being half awake, and he attempts to sit up a little better. His fingers immediately move to rub at his eyes, pushing any remaining sleep from them as he attempts to give her his full attention, “Bad dream?”

“Not even close,” She mumbled on instinct, her hand patting the back of his shell while her (e/c) eyes look him over. Images from her dream flash to her brain as she takes in his sleepy form, the feeling of surprisingly plush lips meeting her own spreading through her brain, “Just thinking.”

“Thinking pretty loudly about-”

“The sun is bright, our shirts are clean. We’re sitting up above the sea, come on and share this jam with me,” Mikey interrupts from the kitchen, popping open a couple of jars. Jam jars, made apparent by his singing.

“Peach or plum or strawberry, any kind is fine, you see, come on and share this jam with me,” Sunita adds as she slides in beside him, disheveled from being snuggled into the couch with April and Cassie. She holds a butter knife in her hand, assisting in jamming and buttering everyone’s respective toast who wants it, “I’ll do my best to give this jam the sweetest it deeserrrevess.”

Mikey closes the jars behind her, putting them back where they belonged right after, “And I’ll keep it fresh, I’m jamming on these tasty preseeeerves!”

“Ingredients in harmony, they mix together perfectly,” The two lean against one another as they continue to plate breakfast for everyone, singing out the final note together in perfect counterpoint, “Come on and share this jam with me!”

Any response (Y/n) had for Leo was quickly replaced with the sudden happiness that overwhelmed her senses to hear singing again. She was worried, obviously so, that she wouldn’t get to experience the deep excitement it caused her within the two days it occurred, but seeing it now and getting the confirmation feels her with a giddy that distracts her from anything else she was feeling.

“Song,” Leo perks up after he gets over his own shock, pointing in their direction, “Singing.”

“Singing. Song,” She repeats in reverse, looking around the room to see if she can spot the softshell, “Donnie, experiments back on!”

“YES! Great, I have so many tests prepared for this!”
~~~~~

(Y/n) couldn’t tell which was more uncomfortable: the cold metal of the sensors covering various parts of her partially clad body or the way Donnie essentially treated her like his favorite lab rat of the day. On one hand, she was unbothered about being down to her skimmies. The discomfort was how heavy the sensors were, pressing as deeply as they could into her skin and potentially leaving circular marks in their places when they’re eventually moved. On the other hand, if there wasn’t an audience of their dearest friends all huddled in the lab, (Y/n)’s sure Donatello would’ve fully removed her brain, cloned, then dissected it all with enough time in the day to pick-up a coffee from the mom and pop place not far from Central Park.

“What’s the plan here, Donnie?” Raph thankfully asks between another one of Donnie’s scarily excited mad scientist cackles, arms crossed as he slides next to the younger twin and tree owers over him. The original hundreds of tests planned to analyze whatever phenomenon was causing all the theatrical singing was mass voted down to two. At the moment, the first was wrapping with a neat little purple bow, symmetrically sequined, “You do your weird little readings on all of us and then what?”

Donnie’s metal machinations disconnect from (Y/n)’s skin with a few button presses, returning back to their daddy’s happy little computers. A few beeps sound here and there before a few more place themselves in their places. He’d already used them to compare everyone’s last readings to their current chemical makeups, various medical and science jargon scrolling and flashing across the various screens lining the lab, “I’ve got a general reading… Now, I just need to…” He sticks his tongue out as he focuses on his computer screen, furiously tapping at the keys, “Force a reaction.”

“And what do you mean by that?” He remains unfettered at April’s question, flipping a few switches as (Y/n)’s body begins to glow.

Everyone stands still as they watch her body begin to lift off the ground, her own body stiffening up as she begins to glow brighter and brighter as the seconds pass. Everyone but Donnie, who seems unamused as he continues to flip switches and push buttons from the comfort of his desk chair. Despite the seemingly high dosages of power, his computers continue to push through the surge, even when small flashes of lightning bounce around the room, scorching corners. (Y/n)’s (e/c) eyes eventually begin to glow the same golden color, her chin raising a little as her plump lips part.

“To grab onto something and duck,” The others manage to squeeze under Donnie’s desk, a respirator mask now covering the parts of his face his purple, hitech goggles don’t reach. The group adds to the ruckus with their own shouts of fear and protests (Cassie’s the loudest of the bunch, no one can tell if it’s fear or excitement), all pleading with him to disconnect and drop this experiment before someone, specifically (Y/n), gets hurt or hurts someone, specifically (Y/n).

“Someone’s callin, no reply,” Everything seems to stop as (Y/n) belts out words, deep from within. It carries in a haunting tune, the golden glow staring off into space, “Nighshade’s fallin’, hear him sigh…” Disjointed voices seem to follow along, howling her name in the background like a choir of wolves. Her arms, covered in golden stripes, wrap themselves around her body as it shivers and shakes, “Empty spaces in his eyes,” They stretch out, raising slowly as she finishes out, “Empty arms outstretched, he’s crying…”

The melody stops as she holds out the last line, her body lowering to the ground as the glow eases away, taking its enveloping warmth with it. The room feels so much colder as they watch her toes touch the carpeted floor. She wobbles a little before losing her footing altogether, eyes closing as her body slumps forward. Leo slides in just in time to catch her, holding her close to his plastron as he turns back to their friends. They all exchange looks, except Donatello, who’s quickly typing away at his keyboard.