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They get a flat tire on the way back to New York.
Because of course they do. Turtle luck giveth, and turtle luck taketh away. And sometimes turtle luck just acts like a bitch.
Leo’s thankful for the rain; it blurs their figures and gives them a good excuse to wear the over-sized raincoats and boots that have been stored in the back of the van for years. Leo had been stashing things in the van for ages, always trying to be ready for anything. So he allowed himself to feel just a bit pleased with his foresight.
What he’s not pleased about is Raph’s bitching.
They’re both knelt in the mud at the side of the road, working to get the tire off the van. Donnie directs them from the open door, a little muzzy from the high dose pain meds still running through him from Alfred’s treatments. But he’s doing his best to keep focus. Mikey is hovering over Leo and Raph, trying to stay out of their way while simultaneously holding a flashlight and an umbrella.
“’Course the damn tires survive everything Gotham chucked at us,” Raph grouses, leaning heavily on the lug wrench, “But the second we’re outta town in the middle of nowhere, it blows out! Typical!”
“At least we have a spare. You should be grateful for that,” Leo frowns, collecting the last lug nut when Raph manages to wriggle it off the flat.
“I’ll be grateful when we get outta this damn rain!” Raph snaps as he yanks the tire off. The movement jars the van, rocking it on the jack. Inside, Donnie sways with the movement and blinks rapidly, sitting up straighter from his seat on the floor just inside the open door of the van.
“Less talkin’, more poppin’ that tire back on, dudes!” Mikey sounds far too cheery for someone standing in the cold rain.
Raph makes a sound like he’s about to launch himself out of the mud and strangle Mikey.
The only reason he doesn’t is because Leo shoves the replacement tire at him with a firm look. Raph grumbles like a thunderhead but turns away to try and wrestle the tire onto the van. Leo climbs to his feet to store the flat in the back and by the time he’s returned, Raph is waiting impatiently for the lug nuts.
They’re soaked, muddy, and cold when they clamber back into the van. Their coats and boots end up in a dripping pile at the back and Leo tuts at it as he passes around towels.
Donnie watches with a frown, “Just how much stuff have you been hiding in my van?”
Instead of answering, Leo flops into the driver’s seat and cranks the heat up. They’ve still got quite the drive ahead of them and his toes are numb. Donnie is still protesting behind him, even as Raph pushes him into a seat and buckles him in. Mikey is giggling like a maniac.
Leo smiles to himself. The long road trip’s not so bad, if he has these three with him.
He takes it back, he wishes he was by himself.
“Leeeeeeeeoooooooo!” Mikey whines, banging his heels on the floor of the van, “Come oooonnn, man!”
“Just wait, Mikey,” Leo says through gritted teeth. He’s cursing himself for not keeping an eye on his brother’s soda intake in the Bat Cave.
“Duuuudddee! I can’t wait! I’m gonna explode!” Mikey insists with the desperation of someone who may, indeed, explode.
“Shut up, Mike, just piss in a bottle or somethin’!” Raph grouses, slouched in the passenger seat next to Leo and glaring out the windshield at the streaks of rain.
“Don’t you dare,” Donnie hisses, “For god’s sake, Leo, just pull over and let him go on the side of the road!”
“That flat already put us behind schedule,” Leo argues, pressing down on the accelerator to pass a semi, “I want to get back to New York before the weekend traffic hits.”
“Who cares! We’re already gonna be in trouble for takin’ off anyway,” There’s two solid thunks as Raph slumps down far enough to kick his feet up on the dashboard, “Just let him out, I’m sick of listenin’ to him whine.”
“LEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOO!” Mikey wails, flailing around in his seat.
“Feet off the dash,” Leo orders, scowling at Raph, “And Mikey, can you just—”
“I’M GONNA PEE MY PANTS, BRO!”
“We don’t even wear pants!”
“If you urinate in my van, I will do unspeakable things to your comic collection, Michelangelo!”
“Dude! Not cool! You can’t threaten a man’s comic books! I’ll piss on your stinky van if I want!”
“Don’t whip yer dick out in here! I don’t wanna see that shit!”
“You won’t see anything! You’re in the front seat!”
“I said no pissing in my van!”
“Maybe you should have installed a toilet in here then!”
Leo slams on the breaks, yanking the wheel hard and screeching to a halt at the side of the highway. His brothers are silent.
“Michelangelo,” Leo speaks calmly and clearly, staring out the front windshield, “Go.” No one moves. Leo tightens his grip on the steering wheel, “Now.”
A click and a scramble, the sound of the rain gets louder as the van door opens. Donnie hisses something and there’s a fumble of wet clothing. The van door shuts again. No one moves. Raph still has his feet up on the dash but has pointedly turned his face away to look out the window. The awkward silence persists.
Donnie clears his throat, “Erm, Leo…?”
“What.” It comes out flat and icy.
“Er, sorry, just...do we have anymore painkillers?”
They have to make a pit stop at a gas station to refuel anyway.
The van isn’t used to such long trips and Donnie doesn’t keep spare fuel in the truck (“Do you know how dangerous that would be!? The amount of times we get shot at—I mean, it’s not like the movies but it’s still a highly flammable substance and—”). So they don’t really have any other choice but to pull up to a pump as far away from the front of station as possible and pray for the best.
Leo’s cooled off by then, enough that he allows Mikey and Donnie to go into the store to stretch their legs. They’re smothered in the giant raincoats, scarves, boots, and gloves and they’re not great disguises, but it’ll have to do. Raph suggests just stealing what they need “like we always have” but Leo shoots that down quick. They don’t know the layout of the store, where the cameras are, and Donnie’s in no shape to hack the system to wipe their presence. No, it’s better to be just another group of weirdos passing through a truck stop in the middle of nowhere. In, out, forgettable as possible.
It’s still pouring rain outside, the foul weather from Gotham chasing them all the way back to New York. Leo can see his breath fogging under his hood as he watches the numbers on the digital pump readout tick upwards.
There’s a thud from the van and then the door slides open just a few inches, enough for Leo to see Raph sitting on the floor with his shell to the back of the driver’s seat.
“How mad d’ya think Dad is?” Raph’s voice is a low timber, his perpetual frown as calm and casual as his resting bitch face will allow.
“Mad enough to ground us for at least the rest of the year,” Leo lets out a humorless chuckle, tucking his fingers deeper into the sleeves of his coat, “He’ll be running us into the ground with training to pay for it too.”
“Hey, maybe you’ll finally get to work on those, uh, Miso...Jeekee…”
“Muso Jikiden Eishin-Ryu.”
“Yeah. That.”
Leo hums, “Doubt it. Ten bucks says it’s stance and endurance. Qigong.”
Raph groans, tipping his head back to thud against the seat, “Not that shaolin shit again...aight, bet. Ten says it’s repetitive basics drills.” Raph grins at him through the gap in the door and Leo grins back, showing his teeth in a friendly threat.
Donnie appears around the side of the pump, distractedly shuffling behind the van to climb in through the other side. Leo shifts to the side so he can see what’s going on and watches Donnie wriggle out of the layers of clothing before flopping into his seat.
“You good, Don?” Raph asks as Donnie digs into the plastic bag he’d come back with.
“No,” Donnie is fumbling with the cap on a bottle of painkillers, trying to grip it between his knees so he can get it open, “Arm’s hurting again. And my head. I want a nap.”
“Where’s Mikey?” Leo asks, looking over his shoulder towards the station. The lights from the big windows are streaked by the rain.
“Still in there buying junk food,” Donnie curses as the medicine bottle slips from his grip and rattles to the floor. Leo doesn’t bother to chastise him for the language—a Donatello that’s wasting breath on swearing is a Donatello that is probably in a foul mood. And a Bad Mood Donatello is more dangerous than a Bad Mood Raphael.
Raph snorts and leans forward to snatch the bottle, cracking it open himself, “It’s all that thinkin’ you keep doin’. Pop some pills and pass out, brainiac.” He dumps some of the pills into Donnie’s waiting hand.
“Take water with those,” Leo orders when Donnie moves to dry swallow them. Raph rolls his eyes but opens a bottle of water for Donnie too. Then he scoops up the bag and starts digging through it for whatever else Donnie’d brought back.
“Aye, you get us sandwiches?” Raph sounds delighted, holding up a gas station sub with wilted lettuce and pale meat sticking out of the plastic looking bread.
“Mm,” Donnie grunts through the mouthful of water and pills and swallows with a grimace, “Yeah. Looked like the healthiest things in there. Condiments in the bag too. Now please try to be quiet? I’m going to take a nap…” So saying, he tilts his seat back a little and pulls himself into his shell. His cast thunks against the side, unable to fit into the gap, and Donnie makes a frustrated sound before adjusting himself enough to be comfortable. His broken arm remains propped on his plastron outside. It’s probably not the most comfortable position, but he clearly wants to be left alone.
Leo gets distracted by the gas pump thunking loudly and he turns away from the van. The numbers on display make him hiss through his teeth—god, this thing eats gas like Mikey eats pizza. He hears the van door slam shut as he’s hanging up the nozzle and a commotion kick up inside the vehicle. Leo looks skyward and prays for the patience to make the rest of the drive home in peace before he climbs back into the driver’s seat.
He shoots a glance into the review, sees his brothers shuffling around in the back and refocuses his attention in the front. The chill from the rain has sunk into the van and Leo kicks the ignition on, cranking up the heaters again. The windshield immediately starts to fog over and he sighs, fiddling with the knobs some more until things clear up and the van is purring, eager to get moving. The argument in the back has escalated; two opposing forces of Raph’s bullheaded anger and Donnie’s dry smartass snaps hitting against each other in a rare display of discordance. No doubt Mikey is watching with a fistful of snacks, waiting for the opportunity to stoke the fires with a stupid interjection.
Leo presses the heels of his hands into eyes and breathes. He’s tired. The adrenaline high of their victory in Gotham had worn off miles away and now all he wants is his cozy bed in the sewers and the longest nap ever.
“Okay, enough,” He calls, purposefully putting the van into drive so the engine snarls louder, eager to be on the move, “Raph, just leave it. Get up here and buckle in.”
“Whatever!” Raph slams himself into the front seat, hands shaking with repressed frustration as he does up his seatbelt. Then he crosses his arms and sulks.
Leo just sighs, lifts his foot of the brake, and drives away.
Donnie emerges from his shell with a wide yawn several miles later. The van has been mercifully quiet; Raph having dozed off a little ways from the gas station and Mikey being wise for once in keeping his mouth shut. There hasn’t been a peep from anyone and Leo has enjoyed the meditative calm of driving in the rain, each roll of the tire bringing them closer to home.
“Hey, Leo…?” Donnie sounds groggy, still waking from his short nap.
“Yeah, Donnie?”
“Where’s Mikey?”
“Very funny.”
“No, Leo, seriously. He’s not in his seat.”
Leo’s heart drops.
No.
He didn’t.
He pulls over to the side of the road and twists around in his seat. He expects to see his two brothers sitting where they’re supposed to, maybe Mikey completely conked out and taking a nap.
Except there’s only Donnie. The other seat is empty.
“Oh my god,” Leo chokes and then, louder, “Why didn’t either of you say anything!?”
“I was in my shell trying to sleep!” Donnie protests immediately, “This isn’t my fault!”
“Raph!?” Leo rounds on his passenger and is mortified to see Raph struggling to hold back a laugh, “Raphael this is not funny! Why didn’t you tell me Mikey wasn’t in the van!?”
“He was too busy being pissy,” Donnie spits and Raph’s humor switches to anger in a flash. He sucks in a breath to start shouting but Leo’s had enough.
“No! No more! Shut up, both of you!” He whips the van around in a squeal of tires and hiss of rain, “We’re going back and I don’t want to hear a peep out of either of you until Michelangelo is safely back in this van!”
For once, both his brothers obey his orders.
“Mikey, I’m sorry—”
“I can’t believe you dudes just left me there!”
“We didn’t mean to, Mikes, there was just a lot happenin’—”
“Yeah right, I bet you all thought it was a great laugh!”
“Actually I think Leo’s heart stopped.”
“I am not responsible, I was taking a nap.”
“...I’m telling Dad you left me behind at a gas station in the middle of nowhere.”
“Mikey…”
“Surrounded by humans.”
“Mike...don’t…”
“I could have been kidnapped. Or tortured. Or eaten.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“Don’t tell Dad, Mike, we’re already in enough trouble.”
“Mikey, please, it was an accident.”
“…fine. This is blackmail then. I’m never letting any of you forget this.”
There’s a collective groan as the van pulls away from the gas station again, this time with all its passengers in place.
Leo’s fighting to keep his eyes open by the time they’re driving through the familiar streets of New York.
He’s exhausted, his eyes heavy, fatigue dragging his body down, and the chill of the storm that’s been following them seeping in through the cracks in the window. The lights of the city are blurred streaks of neon in the dark, dripping down the shadows and pooling in puddles on the sidewalk.
Leo yawns, blinking the tears from his eyes and focusing on the road. He knows the way home by heart and he probably could drive it with his eyes closed. If there were no pedestrians or other cars out, anyway. He bites his tongue to keep himself awake and wonders if maybe he should have stolen a couple drinks from Mikey’s canned coffee or whatever it had been.
Whatever it was, it certainly hadn’t kept Mikey awake. He’s passed out in the back seat with his legs stretched out and his arms tucked into his shell, his head listed to one side and leaning against the window. He’s going to wake up with a crick in his neck.
Donnie’s out too, his phone loose in his hand where it rests on his lap, chin tucked against the inside lip of his plastron. Leo wonders if he was texting with Batgirl. It’s good they made friends, he’s happy his brothers found people their own age to get along with. They don’t know many people and most of the ones they do know tend to be enemies. He’s glad Batman and his clan turned out to be friendlies.
He’d thought Raph was asleep, but there’s a gleam of Raph’s eyes showing in the dark, reflecting the city lights. He’s leaning against the door of the van, arms crossed, quiet and still. The frown he always wears makes him look angry, but there’s no tension in his frame. It’s the most relaxed Leo’s seen him since they left New York.
But maybe that’s it. Everything outside of New York is an unknown, dangerous territory made all the more deadly by the lack of knowledge. It’s the farthest any of them have been from home. Chasing the Shredder was a natural instinct, especially knowing he was working with someone else and knowing he had canisters of ooze at his disposal. They hadn’t thought twice about packing up and giving chase. It’s only now that the fight is over, with the promised safety and quiet of home on the horizon, that they can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s over.
The secret wall giving way to the ramp to their underground garage is the most welcoming sight in the world. The dark, cramped passage is an old friend, holding them close. The silent garage filled with Donnie’s junk and half finished projects is a balm.
Leo’s throws the van into park and kills the engine with a heavy sigh. The weight sloughs off his shoulders and makes more room for exhaustion. He’s ready to lay face down in his bed and not get up again for several days.
But he’s got his brothers to see to first.
He slides out of the driver’s seat, stretching and shaking the pins and needles from his limbs, and opens the back door to pry Mikey and Donnie out of their sleep. Raph’s already grabbing what little they’d brought with them to Gotham; weapons, first aid, water, and the leftovers from the gas station stop.
“Mikey,” Leo shakes Mikey’s shoulder, rousing him, “Hey, wake up. We’re home.”
“Thank god,” Mikey rubs at his eyes, stumbling out of the van still half asleep, “M’ gonna go make out with my pillow dude…”
“Ew,” Donnie grunts, leaning against the van as he toddles over. His eyes are hazy and lidded and he sways on his feet. Leo puts a hand on his shell, steadying him, “Mm...c’n I get some coffee? Wanna study...this, um…”
“No, you’re going to straight to bed,” Leo says, steering Donnie gently out of their garage and into the lair proper, “You’re dead on your feet.”
“I would say the same about you, my son.”
That stops them all in their tracks.
Master Splinter is standing a few feet from the door, hands folded behind his back, and an expectant look on his face.
“Oooohhhh…” Mikey shrinks into his shell a little, shamefaced, gaze darting away.
“Master Splinter,” Leo puts himself between their father and his brothers and bows low, “We’re sorry for leaving without saying anything and for not contacting you. We were chasing reports of the Shredder and—”
“Peace, Leonardo,” Splinter raises his hand, silencing Leo, “Explaining your behavior can wait. You are tired and,” His sharp gaze flickers over Donnie’s broken arm, “Injured. You need your rest.” A small smile crooks the corner of Splinter’s mouth and he rests his hand on Leo’s cheek, “I am very happy that all of you have come back alive. Perhaps next time you could leave me a note so you do not make this old rat worry so much.”
Leo smiles a little in reply, “Sorry Father.” He hesitates and then wraps his arms around Splinter, “I’m glad to be home.”
He feels his brothers crowd them, all eager to be included in the hug. They’re warriors, ninjas, fighters hardened by time and battles. But they’re still teenagers. They’re still young. Leo doesn’t like to think of himself as a kid but sometimes, much like now, he thinks it might be okay to remember that he is still a child and this is his dad.
“Leo kicked a dude in the balls.” Mikey says suddenly, "Very dishonorable."
And Leo also remembers that being a kid means that sometimes he wants to strangle his brothers.