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Rain lashes from the sky with enough fierce drive to have Leo almost doubled over as he ducks out of its way as best he can, avoiding the stampede of New Yorkers that have the same ideas as him as the dart in and out of store fronts towards overfilled bus shelters to seek refuge from the bitter weather.
Leo is faster than most, however, zipping between strollers and shuffling business men that hold briefcases over the top of balding heads.
He moves with clear intent, huffing and puffing under his breath.
His jacket swaddles him, freezing fat droplets of rain bouncing off the waterproof material with a series of out of time thunks and drums.
The small ball of fuzz he’s got cradled carefully beneath it, pressed up tight against his plastron shrinks with fear at the sound, letting out a weak, pitiful mew that only makes Leo rush faster.
He makes it to his usual manhole cover and manages to flip it effortlessly even just one handed.
It gains him only a few stares — most days his entrance and exit went mostly unnoticed by such locals, like the bodga owner of just the usual bustle of people that swept this way on their travels to and from work.
But occasionally, visitors and tourists alike would stop and gawk, no different in the freezing rain, much like most of the time, Leo pays them no mind as he hauls shell down the hole towards home, sealing the sewer entrance with a reverberating clank.
Down in the sewer tunnels, it wasn’t that much warmer than it was up on the street level, the only saving grace was that it was somewhat shielded from the pouring rain, yet still damp enough to set a chill beneath his skin.
This was a sewer after all.
By the time he’s reached his home, the tiny creature that was shivering against his body seems to stir. Whether it’s because she senses a shift in energy or because there’s the familiar warmth that rattles out past the old space heater Donnie fixed up two winters ago, or maybe it’s the smell of the trendy lasagna soup that Mikey was no doubt finessing in the kitchen, Leo keeps his movements swift and quick as he makes a beeline for their shared bedroom.
He grits his teeth, almost hesitating at the threshold when he notes that Raph is already in their room. He’s lounging in his bottom bunk, most of his focus honed in on the old DS that was pink and scuffed at the edges.
He looks up once, and despite Leo’s best efforts to look as normal as possible, Raph only quirks his brow ridge once, and asks him flatly,
“What’s in your coat?”
Leo shuffles, like it’ll somehow make it less obvious that he was hiding something with his arm stuffed into his jacket.
“Nothing,” he answers him.
And it’s that moment, that the helpless little kitten curled up in his palm yowls rather loudly — an impressive feat for a such a small creature.
Raph gets up at the sound of that, just as also hurries into the room, gunning for his own bed.
“You can’t tell dad,” Leo warns him as he carefully removes the animal from inside his coat.
It’s a tiny little thing, pathetic looking and shivering now it wasn’t happily curled up against Leo’s chest.
It’s once-white fur is matted and long, and it’s eyes, green and bleary and wet, are round where it looks up, flickering vision between both turtles.
“Shit. Where the hell did you find that, Leo?”
The kitten is carefully extracted from the warmth of the fleece-y lining of his coat to sit upon the somewhat nest of blankets of the turtles semi-made bed.
It wobbles once it tries to hold itself up on its own, tiny little legs buckling and tail going stiff as it tries and fails fo regain balance.
Leo moves his hand, letting her lean her weight against his palm where he curls in tight, feeling protected.
“In a box, by the bodega. I barely heard her over the rain. She was so scared, I couldn’t just leave her there.”
Raph, who’s been standing behind Leo the whole time, sweeps closer, bending down to get a closer look.
“Was there any more?” He asks, voice quiet.
Leo shakes his head, and uses a finger to give her slow, careful scritches behind her scabby looking ear.
“All alone. Dumped.”
For a moment, both boys remain quiet where they simply give the kitten all their energy and attention as she tries to manoeuvre around the blanket nest.
She’s not got a lot of strength, and a few times, before either Leo or Raph can catch her, she faceplants, with her butt up in the air before there’s gentle hands to pick her right back up again.
“She’ll probably need a vet,” Leo explains with a sigh. “I don’t know how old she is but I knew that I had to help her. If we manage to keep her under wraps tonight we’ll take her tomorrow morning, first thing.”
They don’t need to say much more after that — a silent agreement that didn’t need words.
Raph moves off, and for a second Leo believes he’s perhaps lost interest, chosing to go back to his game.
But less than a moment later, he has returned, with one of his larger hoodies and a handful of crushed up Cheezits.
“To keep her warm,” he tells Leo as he one handed lays out the garment of clothing across the bed. He glances down to the small mound of snacks in his hand, then back to Leo and shrugs almost sheepishly. “And, well. No harm in trying, right?”
The kitten doesn’t take to Raph’s secret stash of cheesy crackers, but she does curl up into the hood, a faint rumbling of a purr bubbling at her chest as she gets herself comfortable and falls fast asleep.
Leo and Raph are suspended in the moment, watching her keenly, as if both were afraid to move and break the spell.
“Are you gonna tell the others?” Raph eventually asks, voice hushed for both their and the kittens sake. “Mike and Don, that is.”
Leo swallows thick and shakes his head, not once taking his eyes off the small bundle of fur snoozing away on his bed.
“No,” he says quietly. “Mike’ll just flip out, you know how he is around cats, and Donnie is a hypochondriac; he’ll get an itch about fleas, most likely.”
He turns and faces his brother, catching the gleam in his eyes and the small quirk of his mouth.
“Cool,” he says, voice still small. “S’been a while since we teamed up like this. Usually it’s the other way around.”
Leo smiles back, bemused at the situation and nods, before he looks back at the cat.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “You’re right.”
It would appear that keeping a kitten out of sight of two brothers and a dad that practically absorbed anything within a remnant of personal space, would be harder than expected.
The first night, Leo decides that once his youngest brothers were asleep, he’d sneak into the bathroom and sleep in the tub with the kitten where he could get away from any watchful or snitching eyes.
It’s an uncomfortable night but one he’ll gladly take for the moment his little stray finally settled atop his chest, small and mighty.
And by mid morning, when he’s somehow managed to fall into a deep sleep, and there’s curious paws wobbling over him, he barely has enough time to register to sound of the door opening, and the shower curtain being pulled back, so show a very confused and serious looking Donatello with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, headphones blearily playing whatever K-Pop song he’s got on loop this time.
Leo makes a clumsy attempt to sit up, the little kitten gives a big stretch and a yawn and a chirp as if to say: good morning!
“Uh,” Leo says with a forced chuckle. “Don’t tell dad?”