Hello everybody, I promise to make this note short. I haven't been on FF in months, but I was cleaning my computer and stumbled on my unfinished stories/drabbles ect. This is a one-shot I actually liked, and after altering it a bit, I decided to post it. I see some potential to write more chapters for this story, but I haven't really decided on that yet. So tell me what you think and enjoy reading.


Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Dirty Little Secrets

It wasn't like Michelangelo wanted to blackmail Leo. No, he would never do that. All right maybe he would, but not with something private. Not with Leo, the guy would take it far too serious. Michelangelo just wanted proof. Solid proof that his brother, the fearless, perfect, clean Leonardo, was just like the rest of them. He wasn't even searching for something specific. Anything would be fine as long as it just confirmed Leonardo was human. Well, turtle, if we're going to take things literally.

At first it was trying to catch Leonardo doing something wrong. Michelangelo would spend an entire training session studying his brothers moves. Nothing, flawless. Michelangelo didn't take it that serious by then. Just a point he tried to prove for himself. Just trying to find an answer to that question that was bugging his mind almost frequently these days. He just wanted to know if his brother really was that.. clean.

Because he always is so insufferable clean! His bandana, clean. Gear? clean. His room is just plain clean and when he speaks you can hear he has overthought what he was about to say before he actually said it. Like, even when they are watching a movie together, and every normal guy would just ask for the popcorn, Leonardo looks at it, pauzes, tries to estimate who is positioned closest to the popcorn bowl, formulates a question in his head and then finally asks that question to the nearest person.

That could really drive Michelangelo crazy, and that was the reason why he needed to know. He wanted to know if Leonardo's thoughts were that clean and controlled as well. He just wanted to know if he ever thought : "Damn, she is hot." while watching a movie, or has some dirty magazines hidden beneath his bed. Because it was so difficult for him to imagine Leonardo thinking those things, but it also seemed so impossible for someone to not have those thoughts once in a while. He just wanted something to prove that his brother also has hormones raging through his teenage body. Like that time he snuck up on Donatello in the middle of the night, and discovered that he read very mature stories about the Power Rangers on the internet, giving a whole different view on their companionship. Or that time he caught Raphael trying to hide a couple of very interesting movies. He never mentioned those things again.. Well maybe he did, but not to anyone else. Because it is no-one elses buisness what a guy preferes to do in private with its privates. Well... normally it isn't. But this time he would make an exception

Gradually, the thought was turning into an obsession. He followed his brother around all day and found himself wondering about what was going through his mind. The most frustrating thing was that the more he looked, the less he found. One night they watched TV together and Michelangelo put in a movie to test his brother. One of his favourites, with a very rainy roof scene where the nipples of the heroine are showing on 1:05:47. He kept his eyes glued to Leonardo's face to see a reaction, any reaction, but he didn't even blink. Well maybe he did blink, but that could have been on the exact same moment that Michelangelo had blinked, so he might have missed it. He even wondered if his brother had noticed it at all (although it would be very hard to miss). It was like Leonardo was a programmed robot, doing the same routine over and over again. Michelangelo had discovered his brother frequently writing in a little notebook and had tried to take a peek in it but every time he came close, Leonardo made sure he wasn't able to read the content, placing his hand on the page.

So it really was Leo's own fault he was here now, Michelangelo tried to convince himself. If Leonardo would be a little bit more open this wouldn't be necessary. He searched around until his eye caught the object he was searching for. Lying innocently on the nightstand was Leonardo's little book. Michelangelo grinned in victory. He knew this was wrong, very wrong. He should be concerned for his brother, since he was getting treated by Donatello. But hey, it was just a minor wound and maybe this was the only opportunity he would get.

He reached his hand out to open the book but hesitated. Maybe this was really private. Maybe this little book contained some of Leonardo's deepest feelings, poetry, stories or maybe even something way more dirty than those. Michelangelo was caught with doubt.

He shouldn't do this. This was Leonardo's and he really had no right to take a peek.

A small peek?

No, he shouldn't it wasn't a right or honourable thing to do.

On the other hand, he didn't mean to harm Leonardo. He wouldn't say anything about the contains of the little book. Not a word. Leonardo would never need to know and Michelangelo would keep this moment for himself and take it to his grave. So after he had justified his own actions, Michelangelo opened the book with a devilish smile. He was ready for anything, he was ready to discover his brother's dirty little secret.

It took him a few seconds to realise something was wrong with the handwriting. When he did however, he shut the book with a scowl. Japanese.. Why did Splinter ever attempt to teach them Japanese? Why was Leonardo the only one fascinated by the characters? Why didn't Michelangelo concentrate on those lessons back then? Why, why, why? Who with a normal and rational mind would write a diary, or whatever it was, in Japanese? Michelangelo could answer that question of course. Of course Leonardo would do that. He wouldn't make it easy for his poor curious brother, no he'd write in Japanese, of all languages. Maybe he could've made any sense out of Spanish, or maybe even worked his French when he concentrated, but Japanese? For him Japanese was just likeā€¦ Japanese.

Michelangelo pulled himself together and took a deep breath. Fine. He didn't need to know anything about Leonardo. He didn't care about whether he was perfect or not. His brother could be replaced by an alien robot for that matter, he wouldn't care. He put the book down on the nightstand and marched out of the room, making sure he slammed with the door. This of course wasn't the smartest thing to do since he was technically still undercover, but he couldn't find the energy to be bothered about this. When he passed Leonardo, bandaged and throwing his little brother a questioning yet demanding look, he huffed.

"Fly to the moon you flawless leader."

Maybe it was a little uncalled for. Maybe it was a little bit unfair since Leonardo couldn't figure out what he had done wrong and Michelangelo knew his words would hurt him, but he didn't care. No, he had more important things to do than trying to figure his brother out..

Like learning Japenese for that matter.


Thank you for reading!