Chapter Text
It started, as most of Leo’s observations did, with an unexpected reaction.
He wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to act like it—swaggering into every room like he was the core of the world. Sunglasses indoors, a pick-up line always cocked and loaded. But Leo was more observant than most assumed.
Tide had first crossed paths with the boys at some swanky industry event. One of those glitzy, overhyped nights where stars circled around one another like sharks in sequin. He was the new blood on the scene, fresh off the breakout single that had rocketed him into fame.
Most artists would’ve kept things cool. Polite. Distant. But obviously, not Tide.
He sauntered right up, drink in hand, and struck a conversation like they were old friends instead of chart rivals.
From then on, they kept running into each other. Award shows. Launch parties. Late-night talk in greenrooms. Eventually, events turned into afterparties, afterparties turned into casual drinks, and drinks turned into hangouts at their own houses.
From the moment Tide had approached them, all sun-drenched curls and a matching charm, Leo was on it like a heat-seeking missile. He laid it on thick—All in good fun, of course. He knew when someone wasn’t biting.
They’d just wrapped up another informal practice session they’d invited Tide to, instruments half-packed, takeout boxes scattered on the coffee table. Tide was draped lazily over the couch, humming something under his breath. Raph was pretending not to watch him from across the room, biting into a protein bar absent-mindedly.
Leo strolled in from the kitchen, drinking some fancy, cold flavored water.
“I’m just saying,” He drawled, continuing some unimportant banter they were having, “If you ever get tired of emotionally unavailable men with big arms, I make a mean breakfast.”
Tide chuckled, not even looking his way, “You burn cereal, Nardo.”
“I didn’t say I cooked it,” Leo shrugged with an eye roll. “I just serve it in bed.”
From across the room, Raph muttered something unintelligible, eyes very pointedly not on them. He’d probably just given up on scolding Leo about not flirting with the competition.
“C’mon Tide, what’s a turtle gotta do to get you to admit he’s exceptionally charming and kills it as a casanova?” Leo pouted, leaning dramatically on the edge of the couch like a model in a bad cologne ad. “I wouldn’t offer this to anyone, but I can beg on my knees—”
Tide shot him a crooked, but serious grin. “Get on your knees and I’ll start charging you for eye contact.”
Donnie cackled.
“Ouch,” Leo laughed, holding a hand to his chest, “Welp,” he said smoothly, sitting up straight, “I do believe I have been rejected. Again.”
“You’re adorable, Blue.” Tide hummed, giving him a reassuring pat on the shell, “But I like my men with a little more… Growl, y’know?”
Leo definitely noticed the way Raph was looking at him now. Like he was ready to launch a cymbal at his head. The kind of reaction he’d gotten used to, usually before he got hauled over the coals.
His eyes narrowed just a little. It wasn’t a weird or uncommon thing for Raph to chew him out with the ‘no flirting with competition’ schmuck. However, he also took note of Raph's odd behavior over the past month or two.
Like how Raph’s eyes would linger a little too long when Tide laughed. Or how Raph would stare at the lyric sheet like it might catch fire if he blinked when Tide leaned over his shoulder to point something out. Or how Raph always coincidentally was the one to walk Tide to his cab.
Interesting.
Later, as the others drifted out for the night, Leo sidled up to Raph, arms crossed, that infuriating all-knowing-brother smirk already plastered to his face. Raph grunted, avoiding eye contact like it was his job.
“So,” Leo started in a casual tone, leaning in conspirationally. "You gonna tell me why you looked like you wanted to murder me with your bare hands earlier?"
Raph didn't spare him a glance. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
Then he was lying about it. If this were just another one of his usual tears into Leo, he’d be going for his throat by now. But instead, he danced around the subject, avoiding it with an almost careful hesitation.
Very interesting, indeed.
“Sure you don’t,” Leo said, raising a brow. “Just coincidence that you suddenly start death-glaring every time I flirt with Tide?”
“And he shoots you down,” Raph said, trying—and failing—to hide the satisfaction in his voice.
“Oh? So he just politely ignores my devastating good looks out of moral obligation?”
“Maybe he’s got taste,” Raph muttered, frown easing in the slightest.
Leo blinked, then slowly the gears turned in his head. His eyes widened. “Oh... ohh. Wait a damn second.”
Raph scowled. “What?”
“You’ve got it bad, huh?”
Raph didn’t look up. “Got what?"
“Don't play dumb. You're jealous.”
Raph stiffened. “Shut up.”
Dead giveaway.
“No way,” Leo breathed, voice pitching up like he’d just unearthed the plot twist of the century. “You’ve got a thing for him. You're a fucking hypocrite!"
Raph's whole face turned several shades darker, putting a hand on Leo's face and pushing him away. “You’re imagining things!” He exclaimed defensively.
“Don’t even try to lie to me, I saw the look you gave him when he sang that demo last week. You were about five seconds away from swooning!” Leo squawked back, regaining his balance. "How didn't I piece that together!?"
“I don’t swoon,” Raph growled. "And there's no piecin' together to do because you're seeing things!"
"I was so stupid, how didn't I—” Leo sputtered, words failing him as his mind went wild with just, clarity. “I thought he kept telling me off because he was playing hard to get, a classy little slap to the ego. But now I see it! He likes you!”
Raph bristled. “He doesn’t.”
“You like him!”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Shut it, Leo.”
Leo didn’t. Of course he didn’t.
He pressed harder, arms gesturing wildly now, smugness completely erased by the incredulity. “Oh my god, Raph. You’ve been on my case since day one about not messing with the competition, and now look at you—sitting here acting like you haven’t already mentally picked out wedding colors!”
“You’re makin’ it into something it ain’t,” Raph said firmly, but his voice lacked bite.
Leo pointed a finger. “You said that! You laid down that rule. And here you are—breaking it like it never existed. All while calling me out every time I smile at anyone who happened to hold a mic!”
“Because it is a problem!” Raph snapped. “You do that shit all the time—playboy turtle, Mr. Smooth Talker, layin’ it on just to see who bites!”
Leo stared at him, that self-satisfied, almost offended look sharpening into something a little more serious. “No,” he said firmly, jabbing a finger at him. “You don’t get to pull that.”
“Pull what?” Raph barked, voice rising.
“Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about!” Leo bit back. “Every time I even looked at Tide, you were like two seconds away from busting a vein. And here I thought you were just being dramatic, but no—turns out the big tough guy with all the rules broke his own first.”
“I didn’t!—” Raph’s voice cracked out, rough and defensive. “It’s not that simple Leo—”
"You think I wouldn’t have backed off if I’d known you were actually serious about someone for once? You like him, you’re just too chickenshit to admit it!”
“I didn’t ask you to back off!” Raph threw at him, loud now. “You were the one tryna flirt your way into his pants at every event, and I just—!”
He cut himself off with a growl, turning away. The silence that followed was heavy.
Leo just watched for a moment longer, expression unreadable, before exhaling deeply through his nose. All the heat, all the teasing tension that had built in his voice just moments ago cooled like steam on tile.
“…Man,” he said, quieter now. “You’re really not gonna admit it?”
Raph stayed silent.
Leo let the silence stretch for maximum drama. Then, gently—almost sincerely—he said, “Fine. Don’t worry. I’m tapping out.”
Raph blinked. “What?”
Leo shrugged. “From the Tide-flirting business. He told me I wasn’t his type—which I assume is code for ‘stop before I punch you.’
Raph rolled his eyes, but his shoulders eased the tiniest bit.
Leo gave him a long, fond smile, nudging him playfully. “Hey, he's not not into you either, y'know?”
“Shove it...”
"I'm serious."
Raph scowled, eyes kept away, but there was the faintest flush creeping up his face.
Leo’s smirk softened. “Just—" he said, nudging Raph’s foot with his own. “I’m just saying… if you ever want some help? A wingman? Your own personal love guru?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Okay, cool,” Leo shrugged. “But when you two inevitably make out behind a bar and you need someone to distract the paparazzi, don’t say I never offered.”