Work Text:
Twas the morning before Christmas,
And although the O’Neil house,
Two creatures were stirring,
A rhino-warthog powerhouse.
———
Christmas in the sewers was… strange, to say the least.
April hadn’t known the turtles for a very long time, but she shouldn’t have been surprised to discover their love for festivities. Each was a rather whimsical individual, and Christmas was nothing if not whimsical. But boy, the scale of their holiday excitement was surely interesting.
It seemed each of the brothers had become busy during the holiday season. Leonardo made himself busy decorating every inch of their home, handcrafting new decorations to line the walls. Michelangelo had discovered ‘the art of holiday pizzas,’ a dish that April gratefully passed on. Donatello was even merrier than his usual self, working on numerous mechanical gifts—things April didn’t understand until he introduced them.
O’Neil was sort of flurried by all the action. She stood, stunned, in the entrance to their tunnel home. She had come to visit her reptilian friends but didn’t expect this much action. The colorful mutants were rushing about, various objects in their arms, shouting holiday greetings as they passed.
Even Splinter was in a particularly warm spirit. His wooden cane announced his approach, and April turned with a smile to see the rodent. He wore a kind smile along with some nicer robes. Looking nice for Christmas, she guessed.
“April. You’ve come at quite a time,” he commented, pausing beside her to survey the area. April was grateful for his calmer demeanor compared to her younger friends.
She shook her head in slight exasperation—affectionate exasperation, of course. “They’ve been preparing all week, and they’re still busy on Christmas Eve?”
Splinter hummed, smile growing. “Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo sure are,” he commented. The vagueness in his words pushed April to ask for more information, her reporter spirit awoken.
“And Raphael?” She tilted her head, stepping out of the way and setting her purse on a chair. She had planned to do some Christmas shopping after this, but she had a feeling this would take longer than expected.
Splinter said nothing, just nodding his head down one of the sewer tunnels. His eyes glimmered with his own curiosity. She paused, staring down it, glancing back at Splinter with an unamused raise of her brow.
“You’re trying to get me to check on him, aren’t you?” She asked dryly.
The rat chuckled as he turned away, and she sighed as he simply headed off to the dojo as usual. He was great at vagueness, and she was afraid she was susceptible to his games. April stared down the tunnel again, a strange feeling growing inside. She huffed. This better not be a trap.
And with that, she began a short journey to find the red turtle. Her mind wandered. What would he be doing? He didn’t often avoid people like this.
April swallowed and pushed the thoughts away. Glancing at the graffitied walls, she worried she’d get lost in the identical tunnels. Splinter wouldn’t send her out here unless he trusted she’d be fine, right? Even with the thought, her nervousness didn’t disappear.
She and Raphael weren’t particularly close—not any more than his brothers, at least. His behavior didn’t sit right with her. Admittedly, it was sort of hypocritical; she was known for her matching attitude. But Raphael—it seemed to be something he even idolized in himself. Sarcasm was like a king’s crown for him—something making him ‘superior.’ It bothered her.
But it seemed there was always more to him. He came off as rude and uncaring, but he wasn’t completely indifferent to everyone. April had seen shows of genuine concern—for his brothers, for his father, even for her. It was… interesting, at the very least. He was caring, in a sense, but chose to cover it up and hide it. Why? Was he embarrassed?
That was her working theory, at least. Even during the Christmas season he was anything but a sap. He seemed to... hide from it. Now that she thought about it, that was interesting behavior for him. Realization hit that there may be more to him than meets the eye. More than the other turtles.
“…holiday, let's see…” A voice pulled April from her thoughts, and she ducked behind the nearest corner. Her surprise disappeared when she identified Raphael. The turtle was seated in a dead-end tunnel, shell pointed in her direction. He was hunched over something. “Day, may, lay… way? Ugh! It's one time.
He was talking, but nobody else seemed to be present. He certainly wasn’t talking to April. To himself, then? And why? What did that mean? Questions filled her mind, and her fingers suddenly craved a pen. She wished she had her purse, but oh well.
She took a tentative step forward, her boot clicking against the concrete. Raphael’s head shot up; the turtle gazed around. Upon seeing her, he immediately looked surprised, flustered as he held something to his chest.
“April-? Why? Huh??” He sounded more like Leonardo before he gathered himself together. The attitude came back. “I mean, can a guy not catch some alone time out here? Jeez.”
Nope, April didn’t come all the way out here to deal with his crap. These sewers smelled, and it was too quiet for there to be no reward. “What are you hiding?” She asked, as if talking to a little brother.
Raphael swallowed. His red mask was askew, and April realized she must have scared him. “Splinter and I were wondering where you went off to. I came looking for you.”
Raphael was stubborn—as per usual. “I’m not doing anything!” He told her, crossing his arms. A folded piece of paper was in his hand, a pen in the other. He was writing?
She stalked forward quickly. He dropped into a defensive position out of instinct, dropping the page to instead remove one of his sai. A mistake, he realized, hands fluttering to grab it.
April was quicker. She snatched it. Raphael was visibly mortified. The paper looked used, with scratches of pen visible even on the blank side. She unfolded it while the mutant sat, stunned.
She expected some secret, but what she found was different. She read it—or at least what she could.
A poem—or the rough draft of one. The handwriting, although surprisingly good, was done quickly, and some phrases were scratched out and replaced. It was unfinished, the ideas of a last section sitting at the bottom—likely the part she’d overheard. The most surprising part—it was addressed to her!
She peered over the page at Raph, who was staring at the floor in shame. “I just—it's stupid—“ He grabbed it back from her stunned fingertips.
“This is good, Raphael—“ April started.
Raphael shook his head. “No, no—it was just an idea. I probably wasn’t going to finish it. I have better gifts— He started to rip it. April panicked, grabbing the top.
“No—really!” She nodded, genuinely smiling. “This is good! I mean it.”
Raphael just stared, neck tucked back into his shell. He tentatively pulled it from her hands, tucking it into his belt. “Oh…” He didn’t seem to believe her.
“And you wrote this for me…?” She felt her heart was warmed. This changed her view on him.
“Um. I did… not just you…” He stepped away, rubbing his face with embarrassment. “Look, you really don’t have to be nice. You’re nice, April. You’re super cool. I didn’t know—I—
April shook her head and stepped forward. Raphael was taken by surprise as the taller human took her arms around him. A hug. “Thank you. It's a wonderful gift, Raphael.”
He was flustered, surprised. “Aww, thanks, April—“
And then voices took him by surprise.
“O’Neil wasn’t in her house, Bebop! We can’t go back to da boss now! We have to’ find her!” A deep voice complained, likely the larger sets of footsteps coming their way. Raphael moved quickly, pushing April behind him.
“She’ll be here! The titles are ‘sposed to be in the sewers, remember?" The other grumbled indignantly, not enjoying his partner’s abuse.
Raphael crept a step forward, and April realized who their unwanted companions were: Bebop and Rocksteady, one of the Foot’s first little experiments. Internally she was more annoyed than scared. They seriously thought she’d just let herself be kidnapped? …Again?
Then they walked right past. She held her breath, but they didn’t even glance down their tunnel. At first she was relieved. But Raphael wasn’t so happy.
He leapt forward. “You leave April alone!” He yelled, making April groan. These boys couldn’t think!
Bebop and Rocksteady spun, stunned for a second as their terrapin enemy ran forward. Rocksteady was quicker to regain himself, lumbering forward in time to get away from Raphael’s attack.
Bebop struck as Raphael landed, throwing the butt of his knife against Raphael’s shell. The turtle, off balance, fell over. Papers slipped from his belt’s pouch, spraying Bebop.
“Whoa!” The warthog yelped, falling back as a few landed on his face. Rocksteady turned, lunging for Raphael. He grabbed the turtle, lifting him high.
He was awfully smug about it too. “Looks like you’re not so strong on your own, huh?”
Bebop giggled from his spot. He was reading one of the papers. “Of course he is! He’s a sappy little poet!”
“Hey! Put that down!” Raphael ordered. The barbaric duo didn’t listen.
“Writin’ for your papa, eh?” Rocksteady asked as he read it. “Aww, daddy’s boy—!”
Wham! Rocksteady was cut off as something slammed into his head. April stood nearby, her shoe in her hand- and now against the mutant’s head. The rhino groaned, dropping Raphael, who was quick to move. He lunged at Bebop.
“That's none of your business!” He shouted, twisting the warthog’s body. The foot soldier was stunned as Raphael pinned him, smiling self-satisfied. He snatched the page up, tucking it away safely.
April herself felt confident. She stepped a boot on the fallen Rocksteady’s back, hands on her hips with satisfaction.
“That's for ruining Christmas, trying to kidnap me, and making fun of my little brother!” April announced heroically.
Raphael beamed. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.