Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Their father was a rat. To be frank, you expected a much older turtle. Instead, you got a short and chubby rat on a recliner. A projector played a soap opera at a low volume before cutting to a commercial. It was like you stumbled upon something important. You always had that feeling whenever you walked in on someone watching TV. It wasn’t like reading a book where you could still be in that world while your family or even strangers passed by.

The trip down to where the turtles lived was unexpected. You were starting to sense a pattern in that regard. Leo took you through a portal deliberately this time. The blue current running through you warmed up to your furry form. Maybe because it wasn’t some random location in Big Mama’s hotel. By the time you got through the portal, you were hit with the burning stench of sewer water.

It was practically the perfect place to hide. Big Mama seemed too prissy to get her hands dirty trying to find you. Not to mention, your moms wouldn’t be able to track you down the sewer. You liked to think they had standards with their dedication to you. Now, you waited for the rat to acknowledge you like waiting for a job interview.

You felt for the picture in your pocket. It was still safe, even when you were tied up with webs and flew around in Donnie’s hoverbike. Yet, you didn’t want to look at it. Feeling the paper was all you needed to remind yourself of life before all of this existed. Before yokai and mutants were a fairytale dream.

“Pop’s we’re home,” Raph said. “And uh…we’ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

The rat man jumped from his seat slowly, stubby legs padding against the floor. “Alright, but make it quick, so I don’t miss too much of my TV shows,” he scratched behind his ears before getting a good look at you. The height difference was odd. Although, rats were small in their own right.

“So, this is [Name],” Leo gently pushed you forward. “They’re kinda homeless, so they’re gonna be staying here for a little bit.”

“It’s not the best way to put it,” Mikey said.

“By definition, they are homeless,” Donnie shut down any kind of argument Mikey was about to put up.

Homeless. Donnie was right. You were homeless by an unfortunate circumstance. You were a number added to another list of numbers. Your contribution to New York would be nothing more and nothing less.

“So, it’s cool if they stay with us, right?” Leo asked, changing the subject smoothly. He smirked at his father like he was already going to accept you.

Splinter glanced at you, then at his sons. A smile curled upward and he immediately shook your hands. You almost lost your foothold, abruptly leaning forward to match the man’s level. “So they’re our new tenant,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too?” you said it like a question.

The meeting got cut off when the soap opera came back on. Splinter rushed to the recliner, done with his sons’ antics for the night. It was as if you no longer existed.

“That went surprisingly well,” Raph said.

“Come on! We’ve gotta show you around,” Mikey took you away from the TV room. “There’s the ramp room. Oh! We’ve gotta show you the Turtle Tank!”

“Mikey, they’ve been through a lot today,” Raph said. “Maybe you can take them somewhere for them to sleep.” He gently guided his younger sibling in another direction.

“Oh yeah, it’s almost one a.m.,” Mikey said. “Oh well, I can show you in the morning.” He dragged you in a different direction this time. His hand was firm around your wrist. For such a small turtle, his grip was strong. It was as if you weighed nothing to him. It was the same when he caught you while escaping Big Mama.

“What is with this family and arm-pulling?” you blurted. No one seemed to listen to you. Your words had not been a concern, but an observation. To you, it was a thought that was meant to stay in the sea of other thoughts.

Instead of going through the elaborate tour Mikey wanted, you were shown where the bathroom was, and where you’d be sleeping for the time being. It was surprising that they even had a guest room set up. On the way there, you passed a few bedrooms that seemed to belong to the boys. They were veiled with curtains, one having a ‘keep out’ sign hung over it. It was Donnie’s room as well as a lab no one can go in.

Once you got to the guest room, you found that it wasn’t as colorful as the other rooms. All that was there was a plain bed and a minimal amount of blankets. Although, it’s better than sleeping on a carpet.

“Our friend is in here whenever she sleeps over,” Mikey said. “She won’t mind it if you stay here, though.”

So that’s why they have this.

“Let me know if ya need an extra blanket, ‘kay?” Raph said.

“I will. Thank you,” you said. A simple thanks would not be enough for what they’ve done. You owed them your life at this point.

You calmed yourself enough to lay down. However, sleep could not overtake you. For an odd reason, Big Mama changed your sleep schedule entirely. Until today, you thought you’d be active during the day. In reality, that was when you’d sleep. Each companion had a whole to-do list before approaching your door. Time began to flow in a reverse direction. Today was tomorrow and tomorrow was today. Your picture taunted you now because all you longed for was yesterday.

Your emotions brought you to sleep this time, not sheer tiredness.

That sleep did not last very long. An oil spill in the ocean brought you into a dark and twisted nightmare. The pain from transforming into a fox increased tenfold. Your newfound ears were ginormous instead of large. The fur growing on your body became ten thousand tiny pricks on your skin.

The worst part of it is that your moms watched. Ma was screaming at the vomit on the floor. Mom tried her best to ease her pain along with yours. The vague scent of flowers carried through the room as a mist. Animals from grandpa’s dreams danced on the clouds. The music was misery-coated screams.

You woke up with a sharp inhale, wiping any kind of tears from your eyes. They soaked the fur under your eyes and on the back of your hand. Your heart was beating fast. Deep breaths attempted to calm the anxious heart. The guest room was so dark it was suffocating. A stray shadow could be a figure wanting to take you away.

You flipped the curtain open, noting not to wake up anyone in the lair. The kitchen shouldn’t have been far. Your feet tramped toward it out of instinct. Water, tea, anything to forget the nightmare. Eventually, you found the kitchen bathed in a reddish-orange. It was just about the smallest room in the lair so far. A dining table stood near the center while a proper stove and microwave setup were to the left. A tea kettle sat on that stove. It was in the shape of a helmet more appropriate for an episode of Supernatural. Its eyes glowed with malice as water housed inside boiled.

Speaking of that, someone was already in the kitchen, Leo. He was boiling some water in the creepy kettle. His pajamas had stripes of alternating shades of blue and a nightcap of the same color. The shirt in particular stretched over his back, outlining his shell. Leo already noticed you, turning his head away from the kettle. He didn’t have his blue bandana over his face, however. It made the red marks over his dark eyes stand out more than they already did.

“So, here’s our kitchen,” Leo said. “Usually whenever Mikey’s in here, it’s off-limits.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“You having trouble sleeping too?”

He leaned over the counter. His unassuming pose led you to step in instead of standing at the doorway.

“A little,” you said. “I think Big Mama messed up my sleep schedule. She, apparently, had me waking up once the sun was already down.”

“Yeah, that can make someone get insomnia,” Leo nodded.

“You have the same problem?”

“No one messed it up for me, but I end up sleeping at six a.m. Drives Raph crazy.”

“So you wander around looking like Ebeneezer Scrooge?”

Leo blinked, “Who?”

“You haven’t heard of A Christmas Carol?” you raised a brow. For a moment, you wanted to regret saying what you did, but Leo was too clueless to take offense.

“Oh, the old guy,” he nodded. “Are you calling me an old man?”

“What? No.”

“I guess this gives me an old guy vibe,” Leo gestured to himself. “I’d be a good-looking old guy, so whatever.”

“Sure, why not?” you rolled your eyes. “You’re a handsome old man.”

“Ooh, you’re saying I’m handsome?”

“Absolutely not!” you said. “I just—”

He was smirking, hand resting on his chin. His eyes were glued to yours. He wasn’t fazed by your sarcasm or the eye roll. You took at least two steps away from him.

“You’re teasing me!” you pointed at him accusingly.

“Me? You’re the one calling me handsome,” he said.

“Forget it.”

“You mean, fur get it.”

You sighed. It wasn’t the worst pun you’d heard but that didn’t mean it was anything good. Leo was only increasingly satisfied with himself. He only saw this exchange as playful teasing like you accused him of. However, you could not be offended even if you tried. Maybe it was because of his face or the pun, but something in you said he meant no harm.

The tea kettle whistled as if it grew tired of your conversation. The glowing eyes became more intense before Leo turned off the stovetop. He poured the hot water into his mug. The water ran through the herbs and bloomed into another drink entirely. Leo opened the cabinet again, pulling out a second mug.

“You want some? There’s enough for two,” he said.

“Sure,” you said with little hesitation. It looked like the kettle would jump to life and kill you if you refused.

Leo didn’t tell you what kind of tea it was but, you tasted chamomile. Who knows? It might be enough to get your sleep cycle back together, wrapped as clumsily as the bandages on your arms.

Your late-night/early-morning talk led to how Leo and his brothers learned combat. He said their dad taught them. You almost couldn’t believe how someone like him could know how to fight. It might be a compelling story.

“You know, a lot of the stuff we learned was from Lou Jitzu movies,” Leo said.

“Really?” you said. Lou Jitzu was a martial arts actor a while back. He had an odd catchphrase, ‘hot soup,’ and was the subject of many conspiracy forums. Mom wanted to find him someday if he were alive. You highly doubted that he was. His whereabouts were left unknown for three years before being declared dead.

Anne was a fan of his films in general, Punch Chowder in specific. She had you sit down and watch it with her on many occasions. You never got through all of it without falling asleep. You always felt bad for it, but Anne didn’t seem to mind.

I get it’s not for everyone, she said. I’m just glad you’re here.

“Yeah, I guess dad’s a big fan of him,” Leo said. “It worked though. You saw us in action, right?”

“You portaled us through the hotel on accident,” you said.

“Uh, it’s a new sword. I gotta get used to it first before I wow everyone.”

He rolled his eyes with a semblance of a smile hidden behind them.

“Do you have a favorite?” you asked.

“A favorite?” Leo turned his head. “For fox sake don’t get me started.”

That one came out of nowhere. You were so caught off guard that you let out a chuckle. Your hand covered your smile, muffling any snort coming your way. “Why did I laugh at that?” you exhaled. “That was awful.”

Leo paused for a second. His expression was unreadable. Then, a slight smile decorated his features. “I can’t blame you. That was one of my better ones,” he said.

“If that’s true, then I don’t know what to say.”

“Your sense of humor is broken?”

“Probably.”

Perhaps it was because of the tea, but you were a lot more relaxed than before. It made you sleep peacefully that night.