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"Children do not use such language!"
Raph…swells. There's no other way to describe the anger he's committed hours, days of his life to manage healthily, only to have it careen past his control.
"Children?" Raph clenches his teeth, but the mean snicker slips through regardless. "Children don't wake up every morning to make sure the kids are fed," Raph starts, sweeping an arm back to his brothers, who are watching the confrontation, wide-eyed and mute, "because otherwise they'll go hungry until lunch. Or dinner.
"Children don't see their parents only a coupla hours a day, most days, when they ain't got school, and the parent has no job." Deadbeat teases the tip of his tongue, and Raph doesn't withhold for it for kindness. It simply doesn't feel painful enough a weapon to let loose. "Children have five fingers and five toes and aren't fuckin' turtles.
"Shouldn't be worried about my language. You barely listen to me half the time I talk, anyways! What's it matter!" Raph is heaving by the end of his tirade, sucking in breath between his teeth until they grow sensitive from the cold of it. He's had enough. There's something broken in their Father and Raph knows it. He's been as delicate with it as he could with his limited understanding because he loves his family. Until today.
Pops doesn't look wounded like Raph wanted. Raph isn't even upset about that, realizing belatedly that he doesn't want to hurt his father, he just. Raph wants to stop hurting. He wants the priorities to make sense.
Too much has been placed squarely onto his too-small shoulders and he needs to put it down. But he can't. Because despite being a child Raph has no adults he can hand it all over to, the unfairness of the situation infuriating him. He never should have been put into a position where he resents his baby brothers, which in turn makes him resent Splinter, too.
Vicious. Circular. Ugly.
They are never, ever going to be like the families on TV, or in the movies, or magazines. Not even for the obvious, non-human reasons. The bedrock this family is built on is cracked and Raph doesn't have the tools or the knowledge to fix that. Maybe it's not even something that can be fixed, Hell, who knows.
"You are grounded for speaking back to me," Splinter says, trembling with his own anger before turning on heel and sitting back in that stupid fucking chair.
"Yeah. Sure." Raph only says it to get the last word in. Splinter is going to sit his ass in that chair and not get up. Not even if the world is on fire, not until his little rerun marathon is over. Raph could go do a flip off the Empire State Building and he would be none the wiser.
Raph takes a rare page from his Dad's book, turns around, and leaves. He does his best not to look at his brothers; for once he's not concerned with what they think or feel. Raph said his piece. He meant it, and more. He isn't ashamed or guilty for being finally being honest about it out loud.
"I've never see you talk to him like that before," Leo almost whispers, appearing at his elbow and half running to keep up. Raph just grunts. There's an air of pleasure around Leo about the situation that's pissing Raph off even more. He's done his best to keep Leo from having to step up and take on any extra responsibilities, but hasn't always succeeded. So he thinks Leo gets it. Sort of.
"Will you actually follow curfew?" Donnie's voice is also quiet, but it's because he's farther away, unwilling to run to keep up. "You said you'd take me to the junk yard tonight--"
Raph doesn't stop walking, but he does turn his head and give Donnie a tired glare.
"Which we can reschedule!" Donnie quickly gets out, eyes wide with pacifying confusion. Raph wants to say Donnie can just go by himself-- God forbid they ever do anything by themselves-- but he knows that's not right. Donnie is still too little. He wouldn't know what to do if he got caught, and Raph couldn't live with himself if he wasn't around to protect him from that.
"We can still go out," Raph says, mood fracturing a bit. "Give 'em an hour to get fixated on his stupid show an' we can head topside." Donnie absolutely beams at the news, rocking forward to walk on his tip toes and bite his bottom lip in excitement.
"Raph?" For Mikey, Raph finally stops stalking down the corridor. He can't force a smile onto his face as he kneels, liking to be on Mikey's level whenever possible for more serious conversations, but he can rearrange his expression to look more tired than bitchy.
"What's up, Mike?"
"Do you hate being the big brother?" It's as honest as honest can get. Mikey's eyes are bright, wide without looking upset, or worried. He's probably never considered Raph-- or even Leo or Donnie-- could hate being older than him. Being older meant getting the remote, getting first dibs on leftovers, getting to be player one in their games. As far as Mikey is concerned being the oldest is way better than youngest. That seems to be all he's taken away from the spat, not really understanding what Raph's issues are with the way things are in the house.
"I like being oldest, 'cause I'm toughest. I like watching out for you guys," Raph says slowly.
"But you said you didn't like making us breakfast, and that's what big brothers do."
"No, that's what moms and dads do." Some of the anger comes back to lick the underbelly of Raph's words. "I don't like being asked to do dad things, but then told I'm a kid. What kinda sense does that even make?"
Mikey ponders this a moment before speaking, a rarity for him.
"I can make breakfast."
"That is not the point," Leo says dryly before Raph can just say sure, fuck it. They can all go back on a toast and cereal diet, which is all Raph could manage when he was Mikey's age.
"I can do it," Mikey says, face fierce and determined, only looking at Raph.
"I'll teach ya then, little man. Maybe you can bring your favorite brother breakfast in bed instead of the other way around."
"Don doesn't like crumbs in his bed," Mikey says, matter of fact, and then breaks out into giggles at the exaggerated offense Raph pulls at the idea he's not the favorite.
"I can show you how to make tea!" Leo says, clearly unhappy at how long he's been left out of the conversation. "It's real easy. Raph won't want you to use the stove, but I can teach you that, too." Leo elbows Mikey conspiratorially and his eyes glitter when they cut to Raph.
"I was using the stove at his age," Donnie touches Raph's elbow. "And I can install safety precautions. Auto-turn offs. Caps on how hot the burners can get. We can get what I need at the junkyard tonight, it's easy."
Raph stares helplessly at his brothers and feels sudden stinging behind his eyes and in his nose. They had listened to how Raph was hurting and wanted to help, genuinely. They wanted to help even if Mikey, at least, didn't really understand what the root problem was, all while their dad just. Sat in his chair, unchanging. Unhelpful.
"Alright," Raph bobs his head and clears his throat to keep his voice from cracking. "We can do all that."