this takes place potentially after The Moons of Thalos 3, unless the turts get a breather-moment before that episode kicks off. but everything in here just deals with the events in Beyond the Known Universe.
aka The Aftermath of Agrabah on Tatooine.
"So," Honeycutt says, when things are calmer, and they're licking their wounds. "Would you care to explain just what happened earlier? Anybody? No?"
He brandishes a mug of cocoa like he's about to either take a sip of it with his robot pinkie out, or smash it on somebody's foot. Leo casually shuffles so that his toes are as under his shell as they can be, and that most of him is behind the navigation pod he and Donnie had co-opted in their third escape in as many hours.
Honeycutt starts to walk around, surveying each one of them with his Suspicious Face (you see this? Suspicion.) "Nobody wants to tell me how the six of you managed to get on the wrong side of an entire planet, in less than fifteen minutes?"
"Practise," Raph snarks, and Casey laughs, until the Suspicious Face turns into the Angry Face and Casey quickly shuts his mouth.
"I have a hull breech," Honeycutt says firmly — Leo wonders if I refers to the ship, or if Honeycutt is the ship. "And far too much organic mess to mop up." True enough, there are big, gooey splatters all around the bridge. "So this had better have been worth it."
Leo looks from Raph, to Mikey, to Casey — all of whom look suitably guilty. And so does April, surprisingly enough, whereas Donnie looks absolutely innocent, and indignant about it too. "One at a time," Honeycutt orders, and one by one, Leo listens to everyone fess up — from the innocent ("That giant guy stomped past and the ground shook, and I dropped a crystal in the store," April says, ducking her head. "Sorry."), to the idiotic (Raph, and Casey — just… being Raph, and Casey) to the just plain weird ("I punched out a cake," Mikey says, "but it was totally asking for it.").
Then everybody looks to Leo.
"There was— this girl," Leo begins, his face heating, and every single one of them, his brothers, April, Casey, the Fugitoid, just goes, "ohhhhhhh," and nods in understanding, as though that explains everything.
Leo wishes he was an only child, sometimes. This is one of those moments.
Donnie clears his throat.
"Well," he says, the way Donnie does when he's trying to sidle out of things, like randori, or his kitchen chores, or being social when he wants to spend eight hours in the lab. "April and I were just caught in the crossfire, so we'll just—"
"The hologram, Donatello."
"Ye-e-e-es," Honeycutt says, his optics blinking into some attempt at raised, stern eyebrows. "I assume you simply forgot to pay for it?"
"Um," Donnie says. His fingers twitch. "In fairness, we were already being shot at before I stole it."
"He has a problem," Leo adds. "We're working on that."
In the end, they all end up fixing the hull, and Donnie's grousing (I do not have a problem, Leonardo, I am an opportunist, there is a difference), and the fascinated delight in Honeycutt's voice as they find out that there is a coagulant in turtle vomit that makes the perfect adhesive — just look at that bonding! Lovely stuff! — and the miserable whining as Raph space-crawls back into the airlock to hurl again, all add to the headache that Leo has been quietly cultivating since the first or second time he had Mikey slamming straight against his skull.
He refuses dinner, and takes a shower. It's sonic, and the soft whirring just irritates him more, and there's no hot water to run against his shoulders to soothe his muscles. He gives up once he's sure that the last few flakes of insectoid are gone, and slopes towards the small little room that Honeycutt assigned him.
The bedrooms are all closer to the hold, in a quieter part of the ship, with private rooms as well as a big open living quarter that's empty aside from two: Donnie — maintaining a respectful distance this time — and April, talking quietly about constellations: "and right over there, you see that one? That would be Deneb Algedi, part of the Capricorn constellation—"
Leo almost facepalms. He manages to hold it in until he makes it to his room, and then he does. The slap stings, the noise echoes off of his palm and the strange, not-quite-plastic, not-quite-metal walls.
She'd just been his type — tall, with sharp eyes, and a mouth that could kill him.
He'd missed that.
(Six months back-and-forth, Karai was still a snake, and still roaming New York, with a mouth and a heart that tried to kill them all, with fangs and venom and blood and anger and he couldn't save her then, and Leo doesn't know if, when all this is done, he can even save her at all.)
#pray4karai. also, #pray4honeycutt as he has to deal with these six little cherubs for the next 20 episodes.