This is a TMNT fanfic centered around my favorite of the brothers: Michaelangelo

This is one of those "what if?..." stories where if I had the perfect afternoon to spend inside my imagination and anything and everything was a possibility. Fictional characters were real without needing an explanation for their existence, I could place myself anywhere at any point in time and had access to whatever I wanted. This is how one of those days might go.

Michaelangelo's character is a mix of TMNT II: Secret of the Ooze and TMNT movie from 2007, and aged to about his mid- to late-twenties. My OC in this is AR:Kim or Alternate Reality Kim (myself).

Chapter 1

"Watch out for the void zones on the floor! Stick by me and follow the path I take!" I shouted from the other room. My Druid continued her hectic spell rotation against the enemy boss while trying not to die from the purple-colored death traps on the floor spawned by the boss monster I was fighting. Random pick-up groups for these boss encounters are almost harder than going in with a coordinated group of people from a guild at a Heroic difficulty setting. Healers have it tougher, because players tend to throw all caution to the wind and play how they want.

Just as I think this to myself, I hear from the living room, "I'm trying, but these noob-ass players are standing in them and I'm trying to keep them alive!" Thus the reason why I gave up my healing spec and opted for damage. Ignorant and flippant players had grated on my nerves too much over the years that I had stopped caring about saving their hides and went the route of the spell-slinger.

"If they're going to be idiots, let them die. I can take a look at the meters after we get through this phase and 'battle rez' anyone with decent DPS." Even though I was spec'ed for damage, being a hybrid meant I had a few aces up my sleeve to help out in a pinch. Which was another reason why I stuck with my Druid for so long. Poor Mikey had chosen the path of the Paladin healer. "If we wipe again, are you sure you don't want to switch to your Retribution spec and go toe-to-toe?"

A resounded "aarrgggh!" was groaned. "No, because I've got all the gear I need for that spec, and I told myself I was going to heal this and get my off-spec gear even if it was going to kill me."

"Be careful what you wish for, buddy. You may very well in fact die...again. At least your pixilated self, anyway."

Three minutes later and the group had wiped again, and the giant Beholder-looking monstrosity had won out again. I took off my headset mic and wheeled back away from the desk. I needed a break. A person can only handle so much MMO-induced stress before she reaches a breaking point. And I knew just how to solve this round of headaches.

I walked out into the living room where I saw Mikey sitting on the floor, propped up against the couch and the coffee table pulled up to him with the new gaming laptop Donnie had put together for him. "How can you play on that little monitor? My eyes would go buggy after 15 minutes trying to stare at that thing figuring out where all the spell effects were at in a raid."

"How can you stand only being in one spot with your humongous rig? Mobility is where it's at, man!" The giant cheesy smile on his face made me chuckle.

"Yeah, but YOU need the mobility. You are a secretive ninja after all. Which, I have to admit, would be a lot of fun if I had any martial arts skills at all."

"You only say that because you think you've got a humdrum, boring life. If I could snap my fingers and be fully human for a day, I don't even know where I would start! "

He did have a point. Being a giant walking, talking humanoid turtle wasn't the easiest thing to be if you wanted to go out and experience the world. "Well, it's a good thing you've got a network of friends you can always call on if you get bored. We should think up some stuff we can do out at night. Maybe you can show me the 'way of the ninja' sometime. I think I've got a dagger around here somewhere."

One of the biggest belly laughs I've ever heard from Mikey punched through the apartment. "Hahaha! That off-balanced decorative dagger you got from the gift shop at Medieval Times does NOT count as a legitimate dagger. Besides, aren't you more into the archery scene anyway? And whatever happened to that hunter character of yours that you had been playing for a really long time before you went the way of the pewpew Druid?" he asks as he gestures his fingers and hands to look like a set of pistols firing off in random directions.

"I happen to really like my Druid, thank you very much! Shapeshifting into animals and having the ability to cast spells from the power of the heavens is so much fun! Anyway, I came out here to get a drink to ease my gamer rage. I'm thinking one of those cocktails I mixed up the other night when you were over here last time would do the trick."

"The one that looked just like milk until I realized what it was?! First you almost choked me to death after you handed it to me and I took a giant swig of it because I was so thritsy, then it about had me on my ass because it was nothing but super strong alcohol with a ton of sugar. Those things are dangerous! I didn't realize how much I had to drink because it tasted way too delicious. I think I'm still getting over that hangover." Mikey put a hand to his head and gave me the most adorable and goofiest puppy dog face.

"Oh, get over yourself. You were fine the next day after you had a ton of water and some aspirin. I honestly think it improved your dance skills...up to a point." I shot him a sly smile remember back to when I had cranked up my "rig" and started playing some of my favorites from my Soundcloud account. I had The Fat Rat, Kubbi and Power Glove cranked up so loud that the neighbors came pounding on my front door, and I had to quickly hide Mikey behind the couch before I went and answered the door. The cranky couple from across the hall had been angered again, but I think that night in particular they had a valid complaint. All the other times I thought that they were a couple of stick-in-the-muds who spent all their spare time reporting people for various noise violations that never carried water with the landlord.

"At least you were nice enough to let me crash on your couch. There was no way I was going to be able to make it back home after having so many drinks. Again, damn you for getting me so wasted that night!" Even if he was chastising me for it, he was still smiling. Likely thinking back to the amount of butt-shaking he was doing in front of my apartment windows and how I had to drag him away from them before someone spotted him and had to make the decision to either call the police or animal control.

"It was also a good thing you guys got setup with that new cell phone carrier so I could call your sensei and tell him where you were at and let him know you'd be here. Which, by the way, I don't think he was too keen on. I could feel the tension through the phone. Admit it, you had fun. But, seriously, I think I need a little of that special Rumchata and butterscotch schnapps highball. All that raiding frustration is giving me that special kind of headache I hate so much. Plus the remedy is super tasty." I headed off into the kitchen and went to the little space in the cupboards I had designated as my liquor cabinet. Not much in there, only because I didn't like a ton of different alcohols. The fruitier, creamier or sweeter the better. Baileys, Rumchata, a few schnapps flavors, Frangelico, amaretto, and a cake flavored vodka. I grabbed the Rumchata and Buttershots, a glass with some ice in it, and decided to mix in some milk so it wasn't at full strength, It was only late-morning and I didn't need to become a complete lush just yet.

My apartment was just started to get cozy. I had moved out to the New York area after getting contacted by a production company that was specializing in content for YouTube. I always like writing, producing and acting in my own videos I did just for fun. One day I made the leap and submitted my best works I had already put up on my channel, organized a portfolio and resume, and was contacted by one of the east coast YouTube studios. Granted they had groups that were only both the east and west coasts, the internet kept everyone connected across the country and even allowed for cross-collaboration. I chose to go to New York, because I still wanted to experience the seasons. An almost perpetual summer just wasn't my thing. I was a Midwest girl, and I needed my falling leaves and snow.

The place was a one bedroom that I scored at a relatively low rate, but only relative to New York prices. If I was going by one of my paychecks back home, it would have cost me almost twice each month for the one-bedroom as it would have for a super swanky three-bedroom back home. It also wasn't uncommon for groups of people who do YouTube content to all room in a house or apartment, but everyone was full up when I had made the move. Which I guess was OK, only because I thought my brand of comedy and loud funny voices would get on someone's nerves eventually.

My "studio" consisted of my HD webcam, a handheld camcorder, two relatively big photography lamps that I bought from a photographer friends who was selling them when he moved to a bigger studio, My main computer I used for editing and rendering as well as a slightly older computer used to do video capture of videos games that I would play on my consoles connected to my television. I also had my USB condenser microphone, a Samson C01U, in a floor mic stand with a shock mount that came in handy when my neighbors around me though it was a great time to walk around like they had wooden Dutch shoes on. My main issue at the moment was what direction I wanted to take my channel content in. I was pretty good at the humorous short comedy videos and the video game commentary was evolving well enough. At some point I was going to have to pick on style and make it the main focus of my channel, but I have always been all over the place when it came to interests and hobbies. I wanted to do anything and everything that caught my attention and that I have a drive to learn more about. Jack of All Trades, Master of None was my personal tag line.

With the only bedroom in the apartment being taken up by the recording and editing equipment, it meant that my living room & kitchen area had really also become my bedroom. The couch served as my bed, and I had an inflatable mattress I bought once for camping as my backup bed for if I had someone stay over. I usually took the blow-up one, just because I wanted to be a good hostess and give my guest the premium sleeping area. Lately, that had been frequently used by Michaelangelo. I only had to toss a throw pillow at his head a handful of times for horrendously loud snoring, but all was forgiven in the morning if I made French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. I usually had coffee in the morning, but I always kept a half-gallon each of milk and orange juice in case Mike came by or stayed over.

Wow, try explaining that arrangement with my parents! "Mom, Dad, I want you to know that I've settled in really well at the apartment, and I've even made a new friend who comes over to visit a lot. Hmm? His name's Mikey and he's a half-turtle, half-human mutant of some sort that knows martial arts and we play World of Warcraft together when I'm not making my videos." At which point my parents would either take the next plane to New York and have me hauled off to a mental institute, because they think I've lost my mind from being on the internet too much, or would think that I'm pulling their leg to get a reaction out of them as I sometimes do.

So, for right now, I keep that little bit under wraps. I figure I'm not doing anyone any favors by blurting out that little tidbit of my personal life.

Mikey had told me about the rest of his family, which is just as unusual as he is. He's got three other brothers, and they all practice ninjitsu and other forms of martial arts combat and weapon training. Their teacher and father figure is a rather disciplined and wise mutant rat named Splinter, who they also call their "sensei" or teacher. Living underground is the only place they can be, given their appearances, and how they came to be who they are is, well, unique. Suffice it to say that accidents happen, and sometimes the results are one-of-a-kind.

I snap myself back from memory lane, and go about making that drink. Not too much ice or I'll either not have enough room for the amount of drink I want, or I'll drink it too slowly so that at the end it'll be half water and not very tasty at all. I walk back out to the main room and plop down on the couch next to Mikey, who is now thoroughly engrossed in watching the latest video from the Epic Meal Time guys. If you're not familiar with their particular brand of videos, lets just say that if you don't like bacon or Jack Daniel's, look away. I end up laughing and having a slight bit of nausea at the end of most of their videos. I have no idea how they come up with these "meals" where most of the food just can't be finished and is subsequently thrown away at the end of each episode. I think I'll stick to the humorous sketch videos. Less environmental impact that way.

"So, any of this making you hungry for breakfast? Or do you want to drink it instead?" I wave the highball under his face, which he responds by gently pushing it away with his hand and chuckling.

"Girl, you are NOT getting me plastered out of my plastron AGAIN! It's way too early in the day to be starting that. What are you, a professional lush or something?" He sets his laptop back down on the coffee table and swings around so his back is against the opposite armrest of the couch, his right leg bent up on the cushions and the other leg hanging off the side like he hasn't decided if he wants to sit cross-legged on in it or straddle it if there wasn't a back to the couch. Just to be cute, I mimic his posture on the other end of the couch, holding my drink in my left hand and resting on the top of the couch's back and my right leg hanging off the front of the couch. "So?" I ask him.

"What is 'A needle pulling thread,' Alex!" he answers, Johnny-on-the-spot-like, cocking his head to the side and flashing me a huge, cheesy grin.

"Ha ha, cute, very cute," I answer in a droll tone, but he always gets me to chuckle in the end. "What I mean to ask you is, are you getting hungry for breakfast? I think I still have some bacon leftover from last time, and I just bought some more eggs, but sadly I think I'm out of bread. French toast is likely out of the question." I rack my brain for more options for food, but I really do need to make a run to the grocery store and stock up on some actual food. Canned goods, pasta, and instant dinners does not do a body good after a while.

"You know, you always cook for me. How about I cook something for you this time? I mean, it's the least I can do, right? You've been super awesome letting me hang out with you as often as I do, and I feel that this time I need to repay the favor." Now he's leaning forward with his hands clasped together and giving me that cute, pleading, puppy dog look again. It's really annoying and hard to resist. It's an endearing trait that he knows exactly when to use on me. Usually when I'm either being too gracious of a host and he feels like a mooch, or when he knows I've had a particularly rough day.

"Why can't more guys be like you? Awesome WoW partner AND able to cook for a lady." Now I'm really pouring on the sappy acting. If I had some ham to throw in to this breakfast idea, it couldn't be more perfect.

"Ah, but there's can't be more guys like me! I'm like Tigger, Iiiiii'm the only one!" And with that, he bounced off the couch and happily strolled into the kitchen. He got to work right away going through my fridge and the cupboard, hauling out a few items here and there. Then I hear him going for the pots and pans I keep stored in the little pullout drawer that most stoves have underneath them.

"Do you want some help in here?" I call out. Maybe I should go in there an at least help supervise. It's not like he knows were everything in the kitchen is. I could also get a sneak peek at what he's planning on concocting in there. I set my drink down on the coffee table and head for the kitchen, hoping that by this time he hasn't sliced off a thumb or broken any of my mixing spoons. I don't get an immediate response, so my curiosity gets the better of me. As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I see on the counter the carton of eggs, a can of sliced mushrooms, a roll of refrigerated biscuits (that I still had no idea what to do with yet), sliced Swiss cheese, my Mrs. Dash table blend seasoning I loved so much, the remaining bacon and the leftover sausage gravy I saved from when I got biscuits and gravy from the drive thru two days ago. I was in such a rush, that I just ate the biscuits and saved the gravy for sometime later. I must have been so scatterbrained lately that I didn't put that together with the biscuit dough. But, it didn't look like Mikey was making biscuits and gravy, In fact, it looked like he had found my cookie sheet.

"Ah, ah, ah!" as I get a finger waggled in my face. "Now, young lady, you march your butt back out to that couch, and you let me, Head Chef Michaelangelo, prepare you breakfast for once. And no peeking!" He took me by the shoulders, spun me around and started to march me right out of my own kitchen! Well, I wasn't having any of that!

I spun on my heels like I was performing a tight marching band maneuver from my glory days in high school, and abruptly came face to face with my new Head Chef. Something in me stumbled as I looked him in the eyes. I'd never been this close to him before. Up until now, I'd never noticed all the flecks of gold and green in his brown eyes. They weren't colored like other brown eyes I had seen. Those had been a color that were deep and liquid. Mikey's eyes made you feel...alive...when you looked at them this closely. Like all those flecks of color that you wouldn't expect to see there sparked something back at you and made you feel energized and giddy. Made you want to see everything in a more positive light. But it was having another affect on me as I looked into them. I couldn't name it just then, but it felt like a combination of intrique and caution. Like I wanted to see more of them, but should also put up a barrier and give him space. I mean, we were just friends after all...right?

Mike was also caught off guard by the sudden shift in my momentum, and when his face came close to mine, it was like he completely forgot what he was going on about. Dumbstruck was a good word for it. Like he was smacked over the back of the head with something and was trying to figure out why it had happened. He still has his hands on my shoulder, albeit they are now on the opposite ones from where they started because of my little twist, but he didn't drop them from where they were. He's doing the same thing I am, looking at me like he's looking at me differently now, but only briefly, and can't bring himself to look away. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but I interrupt him by clearing me throat and taking a tentative step backwards.

"O...OK, if you think you can handle yourself in here, then. I'll just go back out and finish my drink while you work your magic in here." Why am I suddenly fidgeting with my hands. I never do that! And why do I feel so odd? This is a little on the weird side of things. "I'll be out here if you need me."

Mike kind of takes a hopping step back and smiles like it's not a big deal. He waves a little at me and says, "OK, I'll holler for ya if I need...anything." Clearly this close encounter has us both a little unbalanced, but I shouldn't read anything into it. We were both just a little shocked that we almost collided noggins with each other.

I sit back down on the couch and take a bid draw from my glass. Whatever rattle my thought processes back there could all be smoothed out with a little alcohol. I think I needed this glass more than I thought this morning. And to think, I only needed it for a slight headache. Now I needed a little anxiety suppressant. The wonders on self-medication via rum and schnapps.