Disclaimer: TMNT don't belong to me...they belong to Nick.
A/N: This story takes place during season 7 of the OT show, so the Technodrome is stuck in the ocean in the Artic. I am attempting to make this a little more light-hearted than the other TMNT story I am currently working on "The Lesser of Two Evils." I am also having this star everyone's favorite pizza muncher, Mikey! I am not used to writing him, so hopefully I do him justice! Thanks for reading! And I do know that they don't use the nicknames in the OT, but in my head cannon they do :P.
Michelangelo had never been much of a planner. He tended to be a laid back, go with the flow type of guy. But there were always extenuating circumstances, moments which caused one to act contrary to their nature. And for this, he was well prepared. He had been planning for weeks for this day and he was confident it would go without a hitch.
He watched the kitchen clock with eager eyes as the second hand ticked its way around, marking the last few seconds until it was go time. He double checked the surroundings, a wide, satisfied grin gracing his features when he took in the perfection of his set up. His right leg bounced nervously in anticipation as his fingers drummed on the checkered table top in subconscious time to the clock.
He faintly heard the alarm emanating from Leonardo's room followed by vocal protests from his other two brothers at being woken up. A chorus of irritated "five more minutes, Fearless" and "you just interrupted a dream of me winning the Nobel Prize" then melted into confused wonderings as to why Michelangelo's bed was empty. And right on cue, his three brothers entered the kitchen in various states of awake. Michelangelo jumped to his feet and graciously pulled out three chairs.
"Good morning, dudes!" his grin widened, threatening to break his face in two. "How are my three favorite bros doing this morning?" He motioned to the table which was covered in breakfast pizzas, juice, tea and freshly brewed coffee. "Look! I even made a fantabuloso breakfast!"
Three sets of eyes shot up at him in confusion as they took in the feast on the table. Leonardo crossed his arms in his authoritarian older brother manner that his siblings all equally detested.
His voice was drenched in suspicion as he asked, "Alright, Mike, what's all this for? What did you do this time? Did you de-alphabetize by books again?"
"Did you break one of my inventions again?" Donatello chimed in, his voice accusing.
"Did one of your crazy pets decide to turn my belongings into an all you can eat buffet again?" Raphael inquired darkly.
Mike held up his hands in surrender, his eyes as wide and innocent as a puppy's.
"No way, dudes! Does a Turtle need an excuse to let his older bros know how totally tubular they are?"
"Hmm..." Raphael rubbed his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Coming from you..."
"YES!" the three oldest Turtles shouted in unison.
Mike slumped into a chair and deflated. This was definitely not going how he had pictured it. His brothers were supposed to have taken the bait hook, line, and sinker. They were supposed to have been so thankful for his breakfast offering that he could have gone right into what he wanted… He licked his lips nervously as he racked his brain for something to say.
"Well..." the orange clad turtle began. "There might be a teeeeeny something." He held his forefinger and thumb up a few millimeters apart to indicate "teeny".
"Ok, Michelangelo," Leonardo began, his voice stern, as if admonishing a child. Mike cringed at the sound of his full name. He knew Leo reserved using their full names for times when he meant business. "Out with it..."
Mike steepled his fingers and slowly tapped them together nervously.
"Umm..." Mike fidgeted in his seat, his next words coming out in a jumbled, rushed heap. "Well...there's kind of this totally awesome comic book convention going on today and I want to go cuz a mondo rare autographed comic is gonna be for sale and, dude, I have been saving up for months for it...so anyways...can I skip practice today and go, O Glorious Leaderdude?"
"Oh ho!" Raphael smirked smugly, catching Mike with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Now I see what this is all about."
"Mike," Leo chided, "you know how Master Splinter is about missing training, especially for what he deems as frivolous pursuits. While he doesn't mind you reading comics in your down time, I know he would not approve of you spending a lot of money on a single comic. It's impractical to say the least..."
"But...but..." Mike sputtered. "DUDE! It's 'The Pulverizer' issue 1, signed by the writer, Timothy Mutagen, himself! It's the only one I don't own...the one with his righteous origin story..."
"Mike," Leo spoke his name sternly, shaking his head, indicating that the conversation was over.
Mike hung his head as he stood and moped out of the kitchen.
"Way to dash a dude's hopes and dreams, bro," he said glumly as he headed out to his room.
Donatello rolled his eyes at Mike's dramatic exit. "If those are his hopes and dreams, I think I've heard enough!"
Raphael chuckled in amusement and turned his attention to the table, his stomach growling a little too noticeably.
"Well, guys," Raph said, rubbing his hands together with relish, "even though it has been clearly established that we are not the 'most tubular bros ever'" - he spoke in a perfect approximation of Mike's voice and motioning with his fingers in air quotes - "we cannot let such foods go to waste!"
"Agreed!" Donatello nodded as he picked up a slice of oatmeal and blueberries pizza and took a bite.
Leonardo sighed in resignation as he took a thoughtful sip of his tea, and glanced over in the direction of the exit to the kitchen. He hated saying no to Mike, but it just wasn't in anyone's best interest to allow him to go…especially amongst a large group of humans. He just hoped Mike understood his logic and wouldn't take it too personally.