Bay! Leonardo X Reader (Part II)
Author's note: Leo in the bayverse movies is kinda nasty sometimes LIKE i understand where he is coming from most of the time but he is kind of a dick to his brothers for like zero reason. need him to yell at me like that lowkey
The cold settled in the moment I stepped onto the ice.
It wasn’t biting, not enough to be uncomfortable—but it lingered, sharp against my skin, curling into my lungs with every breath. Each exhale came out in a soft cloud, fading just as quickly as it appeared.
The rink was alive in a quiet kind of way.
Blades carved steady lines into the ice, the sound crisp and rhythmic. Laughter echoed from somewhere across the rink, mixing with the faint hum of music playing overhead. Lights reflected off the surface beneath our feet, turning it into something smooth and glass-like, almost glowing.
I stood there for a second, taking it in.
“…I forgot how much I missed this.”
Beside me, Casey crouched slightly as he tightened the last lace on his skates, tugging it firm before tying it off with quick, practiced hands. His movements were easy, automatic—like muscle memory drilled in from years on the rink, just a different kind.
“Yeah?” he said, glancing up at me. “Didn’t peg you as the type to miss freezing your face off.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, shifting my weight as the cold seeped through the soles of my skates.
“It’s not the cold,” I said, nodding toward the rink. “It’s this.”
Casey followed my gaze for a moment, watching a couple skate past, their movements uneven but determined.
“…Yeah,” he said after a second, a little quieter. “I get that.”
He stood, rolling his shoulders once before stepping up beside me at the edge of the rink. For a brief moment, we both just stood there, watching the flow of people—some confident, some clinging to the railing, all moving in their own rhythm.
His blade cut into the ice with a sharp, controlled scrape, sending him forward in strong, grounded strides. There was power in the way he moved—built for speed, for impact, for control in tight spaces. Hockey.
I followed a second later.
The second my skates touched the ice, everything fell into place.
The balance settled under me instantly, edges catching clean as muscle memory took over. I pushed forward into a smooth glide, weight shifting effortlessly from one foot to the other, each movement controlled, precise—years of figure skating settling back into my body like I’d never left.
The cold air rushed past, brushing against my cheeks as I picked up speed without thinking.
Like stepping back into something that had always been part of me.
I exhaled slowly, letting the rhythm take over for a few seconds before I noticed Casey glancing over his shoulder.
“…Okay,” he said, dragging the word out as I pulled up beside him. “Yeah, that’s not normal.”
I smiled faintly, not slowing as I matched his pace.
“It is if you know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, letting out a quiet breath of disbelief. “That was way too smooth.”
He huffed a laugh, adjusting his stride to stay beside me.
“Alright,” he said. “So what—this is like a hidden talent thing, or…?”
“Or I’ve just been doing it for a while,” I replied.
“Yeah, that makes more sense.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, skating side by side as the sounds of the rink blended into the background. His strides were heavier, sharper—cutting deeper into the ice with purpose. Mine were quieter, lighter, guided by edges and balance rather than force. Different styles, completely—but neither of us had to adjust much to stay in sync.
After a moment, he spoke again.
“…So how’d you end up with those guys?” he asked, nodding vaguely. “Not exactly your average crowd.”
I let out a small breath, eyes focused ahead as I leaned slightly into a curve, letting the edge carry me.
“Honestly? I could ask you the same thing.”
He smirked a little at that.
There was a brief pause, the only sound between us the steady scrape of our skates against the ice.
“Just kinda happened,” I added after a second.
“Wrong place, right time.”
Casey nodded once, like that was all the explanation he needed.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds about right.”
He pushed forward a little harder, gaining a bit of speed before looping around in a loose arc, cutting across my path with a quick hockey turn before falling back into place beside me.
“They’re good, though,” he added. “Your guys.”
A small smile pulled at my lips.
I glanced over at him. “You’re one to talk.”
“Hey,” he pointed briefly at me as he skated, “I’m completely normal.”
He bumped his shoulder lightly into mine as he passed a little too close, the contact brief but steady enough to throw off my balance for half a second.
“Careful,” I said, correcting smoothly, shifting onto my edge without breaking rhythm.
“Relax,” he shot back. “You’ve got it.”
I let out a soft laugh, pushing into a longer glide, one foot trailing behind me in a clean, controlled line, posture straightening instinctively.
Casey slowed just slightly, watching.
“…See, that,” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“You make it look like you’re not even trying.”
I shrugged, letting the movement carry me.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I turned slightly, letting the edge of my blade guide me into a smooth transition. Without really thinking about it, I spun—quick, centered, controlled—years of practice making it effortless before I settled back into a glide like it was nothing.
When I looked back at him, he was staring again.
“…What?” I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice.
He blinked, like he’d been caught, then let out a short breath.
“Nothing,” he muttered. “Just—yeah. That’s actually kinda cool.”
I laughed, the sound lighter now, easier.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
The cold air, the steady rhythm, the noise of the rink—it all blurred into something distant, leaving just the movement and the quiet understanding settling between us—his power, my control, somehow meeting in the middle.
Casey exhaled slowly, glancing around like he was taking it all in again.
“…Haven’t done this in a while,” he admitted.
I nodded slightly. “Same.”
Then I glanced over at him, a hint of challenge creeping into my tone.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Casey’s head turned toward me, brow lifting slightly.
A slow grin spread across his face, something more competitive slipping into his expression now.
The lair buzzed with noise.
The TV cast flickering light across the room, reflecting off the concrete walls as the sound of a hockey game filled the space. The sharp crack of sticks, the rush of skates, the distant roar of a digital crowd—it all blended into the usual background chaos.
“—NO, that was a penalty! There’s no way that was clean!”
Michelangelo was halfway off the couch again, one foot planted on the cushion as he pointed aggressively at the screen, like the players could hear him.
“It was clean,” Raphael shot back from across the room, arms crossed, completely unmoved. “Your guy just got outplayed.”
“He got demolished! That’s not the same thing!”
Donatello barely glanced up from where he sat, fingers moving across his tablet.
“Technically,” he said calmly, “body checking is a legal maneuver within regulation play—”
“Donnie,” Mikey cut in, whipping around dramatically, “I don’t need facts right now, I need support.”
“You came to the wrong turtle.”
Before Mikey could argue further—
Footsteps echoed faintly from the tunnel.
“Wow,” a familiar voice called. “I could hear you from halfway down the sewer.”
April stepped into the room, brushing a bit of dust from her jacket as she looked around, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“April!” he said, spinning toward her. “Perfect timing—you’re about to witness injustice.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been here for three seconds.”
“Exactly. You’re unbiased.”
Raph snorted under his breath.
“Unbiased doesn’t mean blind.”
April laughed softly, shaking her head as she stepped further into the living area, her gaze flicking between them.
“You guys are unbelievable,” she said. “Is it always this loud down here?”
“Yes,” Donnie answered simply.
“Always,” Mikey confirmed.
April’s attention shifted as she looked around the room, taking in who was there—
“…Wait,” she said, brows pulling together slightly. “Where is everyone?”
Donnie didn’t look up. “Define ‘everyone.’”
Mikey followed her gaze, looking around exaggeratedly before slowly sitting up straighter.
He pointed toward the empty space beside the couch.
April answered without thinking, her tone casual.
“Oh—she went out with Casey.”
Raph’s head tilted slightly.
Donnie’s fingers stilled for half a second.
April nodded, shrugging lightly as she stepped closer to the table.
“Yeah, they mentioned something about an outdoor rink. Skating, I think.”
He’d been near the counter, one hand resting lightly beside his mug, posture relaxed in that controlled way he always carried himself.
“They seemed pretty excited about it,” she added, glancing back at them. “Casey was going on about hockey, and she said she used to skate—like, actually skate.”
A quiet clink echoed through the room.
Leo had set his mug down.
Mikey’s head snapped toward him immediately, eyes widening just slightly.
Raph’s gaze followed, slower—but sharper.
Donnie definitely noticed.
April blinked, looking between them. “…What?”
Leo didn’t look at anyone.
His gaze stayed forward, jaw set just enough to give him away—if you were looking for it.
“I have training,” he said.
Mikey tilted his head, squinting. “…Right now?”
Raph pushed off the wall slightly, arms still crossed. “Didn’t you already train this morning?”
Leo’s expression didn’t change.
There was no room for argument in it.
He turned before anyone could say anything else, footsteps echoing against the floor as he headed toward the hallway.
But his hand flexed once at his side, fingers tightening before relaxing again.
The room sat in silence for a second longer than it should have.
Mikey leaned slowly toward Donnie, voice dropping.
Donnie adjusted his glasses slightly. “That was quite the behavioral shift, yes.”
Raph huffed quietly, shaking his head just a little. “He’s ain’t subtle.”
April looked between them, confusion turning into realization as she replayed the moment in her head.
“…Wait,” she said slowly. “Did I say something?”
Mikey turned to her immediately.
“You absolutely did,” Donnie added.
April blinked. “…What did I do?”
Mikey leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing something important.
April’s eyes widened slightly as it clicked.
The cold lingered a little more once we stepped off the ice.
Without the constant movement, it settled in—biting at my cheeks, seeping through my clothes as I pulled my jacket tighter around myself. The sounds of the rink faded behind us, blades and laughter turning into something distant as we stepped back onto solid ground.
I flexed my fingers slightly, still warm from the gloves.
“…Okay,” Casey said, exhaling a cloud of breath into the air. “That was worth it.”
I smiled faintly. “Told you.”
He nudged the door open with his shoulder, holding it long enough for me to step through first before following me out into the open air.
The sky had darkened while we were inside, the last traces of daylight gone. Streetlights cast a soft glow over the sidewalk, reflecting faintly off patches of ice and snow.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Boots crunching lightly against the ground, breath visible in the cold between us.
“…You’re way better than you let on, you know that?” Casey said after a minute, glancing over at me.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t ‘let on’ anything. You just didn’t believe me.”
“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Didn’t expect that level of… whatever that was.”
He gave me a look. “Don’t push it.”
I smiled a little, looking ahead again as we walked.
The quiet wasn’t awkward.
The kind that didn’t need to be filled.
Casey kicked lightly at a patch of snow in his path before speaking again.
“…You should come out more,” he said. “Not just skating. Just—out.”
I glanced at him. “Are you saying I don’t go outside enough?”
“I’m saying,” he started, then paused, like he was choosing his words more carefully this time. “You seem different out here.”
I raised an eyebrow slightly. “Different how?”
He shrugged, but his gaze lingered on me a second longer than before.
“Less… guarded, I guess.”
That made me look away for a second.
The cold air filled the space between us again as we kept walking, the distant hum of the city settling in around us.
“…Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “It’s easier out here.”
Casey nodded once, like he understood exactly what I meant.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”
Another stretch of quiet followed.
But now… a little more aware.
I glanced down the street ahead, recognizing where we were getting closer to.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way, you know,” I said. “I’m good from here.”
Casey scoffed lightly. “Yeah, not happening.”
“I know you can,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not walking you.”
I shook my head slightly, a small smile tugging at my lips.
He let out a quiet laugh at that, his breath fogging in the air.
We slowed as we reached my place, the street quieter here, the noise of the rink long gone.
Casey stopped, rocking back slightly on his heels.
“So,” he said. “I’ll see you around?”
I looked at him, a small smile lingering.
“Yeah,” I said. “You will.”
He nodded once, like that was enough.
Like neither of us was in a rush to break it.
Casey shifted slightly, hands still tucked into his pockets, glancing down the street for a second before looking back at me.
“Well,” he said. “Get inside before you freeze.”
I rolled my eyes lightly. “You’re the one standing out here.”
“Yeah, but I’m built for it.”
Like this was the part where one of us was supposed to leave.
Then stepped a little closer.
Casey didn’t move—just watched, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.
Something in his expression shifted—just slightly, softer than before.
“…Yeah,” he said. “Anytime.”
And before I could overthink it—
Pressing a quick, light kiss to his cheek.
And then I pulled back just as quickly.
“…Okay,” he said, clearly thrown off, one hand coming up to the back of his neck. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me neither.”
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he let out a small breath, a crooked grin slowly forming.
“…Alright,” he said. “I’m definitely walking you home again.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head.
I turned slightly toward the door—
I paused, glancing back at him.
“You coming back to the lair?” he asked. “We were probably gonna hang out for a bit.”
There was a small hesitation.
“…Not tonight,” I said. “I think I’m just gonna stay in.”
Casey studied me for a second, like he was trying to read if there was more behind that answer—
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll probably head back.”
“Get inside,” he added, softer this time.
I smiled faintly. “You too.”
He huffed a quiet laugh at that.
I gave one last glance before stepping inside, the door closing softly behind me.
And when I looked back through the window—
Casey was still there for a second.
And headed back the way we came.
The walk back felt shorter.
Maybe it was the fact that Casey’s mind wasn’t exactly… focused.
His hands stayed shoved in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the night air as his boots hit the pavement in steady rhythm. The streets were quieter now, the city settling into that late-night calm.
But his mind kept replaying it.
The way you stepped closer—
Casey let out a quiet breath, shaking his head once like that might reset him.
“…Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Did not see that coming.”
Then the familiar entrance came into view.
He didn’t hesitate, pulling it open and slipping inside, the colder air of the tunnels wrapping around him as he made his way down.
By the time he reached the lair—
Voices overlapping, the flicker of the TV casting shifting light across the room, the low hum of Donnie’s tech blending into it all. It was the same as always.
Casey stepped in, pushing a hand back through his hair.
Michelangelo popped up immediately from the couch, twisting around so fast he nearly lost his balance.
He leaned over the back of the couch, eyes lighting up.
“Where have you been?! We’ve been bored for like—hours.”
April stood nearby, leaning against the table with her arms loosely crossed, a small smile on her face as she glanced over.
“Pretty sure it’s been twenty minutes,” she said.
Casey smirked, shaking his head. “Relax, I was out.”
Mikey spun toward him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Out with… (Y/N)?”
Casey grinned. “Yeah. Hit the rink.”
Mikey practically fell off the couch. “WITHOUT ME?!”
Casey held up a hand. “Hey, they don’t make skates big enough for your feet, man.”
Raph snorted. April let out a soft chuckle. Mikey glared down at his feet, muttering indignantly, “These are proportional!”
Casey shrugged, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. “I played hockey; she skates better than me.”
That earned a small laugh from April and a quiet shake of the head from Raph. Mikey froze, eyes wide.
“Better than you?” he repeated, slowly. “No way.”
“Way,” Casey said simply, leaning back slightly. His gaze softened as he remembered the rink, the way you moved—fluid, precise, effortless.
April glanced between Casey and Mikey, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. She tilted her head. “Sounds like fun,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” Casey admitted, taking a small sip of water. “She’s… really good.”
Mikey flopped back against the cushions, staring at him. “I would’ve fallen immediately.”
“You would’ve tripped before you got on the ice,” Raph muttered dryly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The room settled into its usual rhythm again. Mikey muttered about betrayal, Donnie went back to his tablet, Raph leaned back against the wall smirking, and April’s gaze lingered a moment longer on Casey, a knowing glint in her eyes.
Casey leaned against the table, quietly spinning his water bottle in his hands, still thinking about the evening—the way you’d laughed, the way your blades had cut across the ice, the warmth of your small gesture before parting. It was simple, quiet, but it stuck with him.
Around him, the lair buzzed on, unaware—or maybe unwilling—to notice just how much his mind was elsewhere.
The next evening, you stepped into the lair.
You barely made it a few steps in before—
A loud clang of metal echoed through the space, followed by the sharp scrape of something hitting the floor.
The noise had come from deeper in the lair, and without thinking, you followed it—your footsteps echoing lightly against the concrete as you made your way toward the makeshift garage.
The moment you stepped in, the scent of metal and oil hit you.
Donatello was halfway under the Shellraiser, only his legs and the edge of his shell visible as sparks briefly flickered from beneath the vehicle. Whatever he was working on clearly wasn’t cooperating.
“…okay, that’s not supposed to—” he muttered under his breath.
“Hey, Don,” you called, stepping closer.
There was a pause—then the sound of something being set down quickly.
A second later, he rolled out from underneath the Shellraiser, adjusting his glasses as he sat up.
“Oh—hey!” he said, a little breathless but smiling. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
You smiled back, glancing up at the massive vehicle.
“Wow… it’s looking great, Donnie.”
Even from the outside, it looked more reinforced than before—new plating, cleaner welds, pieces that looked like they definitely weren’t part of a normal garbage truck.
Donnie pushed himself up to his feet, towering slightly as he grabbed a nearby rag and wiped his hands.
“Thanks!” he said, clearly pleased. “Leo actually had a few improvement ideas, so I’ve been trying to stay on top of everything.”
“Leo, huh?” you said, stepping a little closer, your hand brushing along the side of the Shellraiser. “I think it looked amazing before the improvements.”
Your fingers trailed lightly along the metal, cool beneath your touch.
Donnie snorted softly, amused.
“Have you even seen the inside yet?”
That caught you off guard.
You hesitated, glancing back at him with a small, slightly sheepish smile.
“I mean… not really,” you admitted. “I’ve seen it in action, but—”
“Not up close,” he finished for you, already grinning.
You laughed quietly, looking away for a second.
“Well,” Donnie said, stepping toward the door and pulling it open with a bit of a flourish.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling.
“Only on special occasions.”
You laughed, ducking slightly as you stepped up and into the Shellraiser.
And the second you were inside—
“…Okay,” you said softly. “Yeah, this is insane.”
It was nothing like the outside.
Screens. Lights. Organized chaos of tech lining the interior. It felt more like stepping into a mobile command center than a vehicle.
Behind you, Donnie climbed in, clearly pleased with your reaction.
“I’ve been upgrading the internal systems,” he explained, moving past you to tap lightly on one of the panels. “Navigation, defense protocols, communication—basically everything.”
You turned slowly, taking it all in.
“Well—” he adjusted his glasses, trying to play it cool, “—refined it.”
You smiled, shaking your head slightly in disbelief.
“Donnie, this is incredible.”
For a second, he just stood there, clearly trying not to look too proud of himself—
“Okay, yeah,” he admitted. “It’s pretty great.”
You laughed softly, leaning back against one of the seats as you took everything in again, your eyes flicking over the glowing panels and controls.
“Do I get to go for a ride?” you asked, turning and spinning lightly in the front seat, hands gripping the sides for balance.
Donnie snorted, leaning casually against one of the consoles.
“Only if Leo says yes,” he said, giving a small shrug. “Which is… statistically unlikely.”
You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically against the seat.
He smirked a little at that, tapping a few buttons absentmindedly.
“I mean, you could ask him,” he added, glancing over at you. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
You turned your head slightly, giving him a look.
You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head as you glanced back toward the front windshield.
“…He’s not that bad,” you muttered.
Donnie didn’t respond right away.
Instead, he just adjusted his glasses, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You gonna ask him?” he added casually.
You hesitated for a second, your gaze drifting away from his as you let out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing just a little.
“Uh… something kind of happened the other night,” you said, trying to sound casual—but not quite pulling it off. “Not really in the mood to talk to ‘lame-oh-nardo’ right now.”
You giggled under your breath, like you knew exactly how ridiculous that sounded.
Donnie raised an eyebrow, immediately intrigued.
“Oh?” he said, dragging the word out slightly.
He reached over and pulled the Shellraiser door shut with a solid thunk, then dropped into the seat across from you, leaning forward with interest.
“Okay,” he said, resting his arms on his knees. “Talk to Donatello.”
There was a light laugh in his voice—but his eyes were sharp behind his glasses.
You shifted slightly in your seat, leaning back as your gaze drifted toward the front windshield instead of him.
“I don’t really know…” you started, exhaling softly. “He’s just been… sharp with me lately. I think that’s the word.”
Your fingers tapped lightly against the armrest as you thought about it.
“Leo and I have always been good,” you continued, quieter now. “But the other night he kind of just… snapped at me.”
You frowned slightly, shaking your head.
“And ever since then, he’s been short. Like—” you paused, searching for the right words, “—not ignoring me, but not really… talking to me either.”
His expression shifted slightly, thoughtful now as he adjusted his glasses.
“…That’s not normal,” he said after a moment.
You let out a small, humorless laugh.
A quiet beat settled between you, the low hum of the Shellraiser filling the space.
Donnie leaned back slightly in his seat, arms crossing as he thought.
“Did anything happen?” he asked. “Like—before he snapped?”
You shook your head slowly.
“Me and Mikey were just playing games for a bit… Then Casey dropped in. I went to say hi to leo while he was meditating, and he’s just been…” You trailed off, staring out the front windshield, the soft hum of the Shellraiser filling the space.
“Well…” Donnie began, leaning back slightly, fingers steepled under his chin as he thought.
“Now that you mention it,” he said after a moment, eyes narrowing just a fraction, “last night when April was over, she said you and Casey were skating. If I’m correct…”
You felt your stomach twist just a little.
“Yeah… that’s right,” you admitted quietly.
Donnie’s expression sharpened, his gaze flicking toward the front as if he could already picture it. “Leo’s body language… tensed up the second it was mentioned.”
You shifted in your seat, fidgeting slightly with the edge of your sleeve.
“You noticed all that?” you asked softly.
Donnie gave a small, knowing smirk, adjusting his glasses. “I notice a lot. He may not say anything… but it’s there.”
The air in the Shellraiser seemed to thicken for a moment, quiet except for the low hum of the vehicle’s systems.
You let out a soft sigh, leaning back against your seat. “Figures. That sounds… just like him.”
Donnie nodded slowly, eyes still thoughtful.
“Hey, Donnie,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. “Are you going to tell Leo about this conversation? Things are already… awkward, and I really don’t want to make it worse.”
Donnie leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Your secrets are safe with me,” he snorted, a teasing glint in his eyes.
You gave a small laugh, letting some of the tension slip from your shoulders. “Good. Because I’d rather survive his silent treatment than have it get worse.”
Donnie laughed at that, the sound echoing softly in the Shellraiser.
“Leo is always like tha—”
Before he could finish, the Shellraiser door swung open with a firm creak.
Standing there, framed by the dim light of the lair, was Leonardo. Hands planted firmly on either side of the Shellraiser door, his stance tall and imposing. His eyes scanned the two of you like he was trying to read every thought before it could be spoken.
The quiet hum of the Shellraiser suddenly felt deafening.
Donnie straightened, adjusting his glasses, but didn’t speak.
You swallowed, heart thumping just a little faster, and shifted slightly in your seat, suddenly aware of how exposed you both were under Leo’s gaze.
“Looks like you’re working hard, Don,” Leo spat, his tone thick with sarcasm as he turned away slightly, clearly not fully engaging—but making sure you both knew he was watching.
You and Donnie exchanged a quick glance, neither of you saying a word. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft hum of the Shellraiser’s systems.
Donnie finally pushed off from the vehicle, stepping fully out, hands relaxed but ready.
“Hey, Leo… listen, we were just talking,” he said carefully, voice calm but cautious.
You caught a hint of a laugh in Leo’s voice, low and dry, like he was amused and irritated at the same time.
“Oh, I’m sure you two were,” he replied, the words sharp but not overbearing, his gaze flicking between you and Donnie.
You shifted slightly in your seat, fidgeting with your hands. The weight of Leo’s presence pressed down in a way that made the Shellraiser feel smaller, more confining.
“Well, now that you’re here… did you wanna see what I added to the Shellraiser?” Donnie asked, his tone light, trying to ease the tension.
“I have no interest,” Leo barked, sharp and cold.
What a dick, you thought, glaring at him. Donatello had been working his shell off making improvements Leo himself had asked for, and now he’s dismissing them without even a glance?
You stepped out of the truck, following Donnie, your jaw tightening.
“Hey,” you said, voice firm, cutting through the tension. “Donnie put a lot of work into this, and he deserves a little credit, whether you’re interested or not.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched slightly at his sides. “I don’t need to give him credit for following instructions,” he shot back, voice low but edged with irritation. “He’s doing what he was told. That’s his job.”
“His job?” you repeated, incredulous, stepping a little closer. “Donnie didn’t just follow instructions. He improved your ideas, made it better than what you asked for, and he deserves acknowledgment—not a dismissal.”
Leo’s stance stiffened, chest rising as he took a step toward you. “I’m not dismissing him. I’m being realistic. He doesn’t need me patting him on the back for doing what he’s supposed to do.”
You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Realistic? That’s just an excuse to be dismissive. Effort matters, Leo. And Donnie put in effort—and you’re being a jerk if you act like it doesn’t.”
A tense beat passed. Leo’s jaw clenched, his eyes sharp, but you didn’t back down. “I won’t stand here and let you make him feel small. Not over this,” you added firmly.
Donnie shifted beside you, awkward but grateful, as Leo’s expression softened fractionally, though the pride and irritation lingered.
Finally, Leo let out a controlled exhale, stepping back slightly. “You think I’m being unfair,” he said, voice tight. “Maybe I am… but I won’t let this turn into praise for every little thing.”
“Not every little thing,” you said, nodding. “Just the things that actually matter. And this—this matters.”
He said nothing after that, eyes flicking briefly to Donnie, then back to you. The tension still hung heavy—but the argument had been made.
Donnie exhaled quietly beside you, muttering, “Thanks…”
“Well,” you said, letting the words roll off your tongue just a little louder, “you know Leo can be a real asshole.”
Leo’s eyes snapped to yours immediately, sharp and focused, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, silent but clearly listening.
Donnie shifted awkwardly beside you, glancing at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
You, meanwhile, just let a small, sly smile tug at your lips, refusing to look away. Mission accomplished: Leo had heard, and you weren’t backing down.
The garage felt charged, every hum of the Shellraiser louder than before, as if it was holding its breath along with all three of you.
You stepped away, brushing past Leo’s tall, solid frame as if he were just another person in a crowded hallway. Your movement was casual, but your eyes caught the faint tension in his stance as you passed.
Heading toward the living room, you let Donnie lead the way, gesturing excitedly to Leo as he pointed out all the improvements he’d made. Tools glinted under the overhead lights, welds shone, and circuitry hummed softly—a testament to Donnie’s work.
Leo followed silently, shoulders stiff, hands tucked loosely at his sides, watching Donnie’s every move. He didn’t say a word, but the way his gaze lingered on you for the briefest of moments before snapping back to the Shellraiser made it clear: he was aware. Every step you took, every laugh or comment Donnie made, he noticed.
You kept walking, trying not to smirk too much at the unspoken tension you’d stirred, letting Donnie shine while Leo silently processed the scene.
By the time you stepped into the living room, you felt like you could finally breathe again, letting the cool hum of the lair settle around you. Donnie and Leo were still in the garage, absorbed in their own world, and you decided to give them some space.
Your attention immediately shifted to the couch, where Mikey was sprawled across the cushions, his eyes glued to the TV. Raph sat beside him, arms crossed, grumbling quietly at whatever was playing.
“Hey,” Mikey greeted without looking away from the screen, tossing you a bag of chips. “Where’ve you been? You missed all the action!”
You laughed softly, taking a chip and sinking onto the armrest of the couch. “Action, huh? You mean chaos?”
Mikey grinned, barely containing himself. “Tomato, tomahto! Totally the same thing.”
Raph muttered something under his breath, but you could tell he was half-listening, half-annoyed, the way he always was when Mikey was hyped.
You leaned back, letting yourself relax for a moment. But even as the room’s casual energy surrounded you, a small, familiar tension lingered in the back of your mind—the one Leo left behind. You knew it wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
You walked into the kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee. Casey was supposed to stop by soon, though you had no idea exactly when. You’d texted a bit earlier—no one besides Donnie really knew what had been brewing with Leo.
Opening the fridge, you pushed past the sodas to reach the coffee creamer buried deep in the back. As you pulled it out and closed the door, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps filled the room. Leo had entered, his presence announced by a deliberate huff, sharp and deliberate, like the air itself stiffened around him.
You poured a splash of creamer into your coffee, swirling it slowly, then turned to face him. A teasing smirk tugged at your lips, just enough to let him know you were aware of the tension. He wasn’t fooled; he knew exactly what you were doing.
“You better watch it,” he began, voice low and sharp, “or—”
“Or what?” you cut in, leaning forward just slightly, letting your smirk grow. You could see the way his shoulders tensed at the challenge.
He didn’t speak, just stared through you, those piercing blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly, measuring you, calculating.
“You know,” you began, voice firm but careful, “I don’t know what this… switch up was, but I never did anything to you.”
Leo’s jaw tightened, a faint clench that betrayed the effort it took to keep his composure. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling, like he was physically restraining himself from saying something sharp.
“You think it’s that simple?” he said finally, voice low, controlled—but every word carried the weight of unspoken frustration. “You waltz in, make everyone else laugh, shake things up, and suddenly I’m the one out of step?”
You shook your head slightly, refusing to step back. “No. I’m not the problem, Leo. You don’t have to snap at me—or at Donnie—just because you’re… unsettled. That’s on you, not me.”
His eyes flicked away for a moment, and you caught the faintest sigh escaping him. A moment of vulnerability, quickly masked by his usual rigid posture.
“I’m not snapping,” he muttered, but the words were thin, unconvincing.
“Oh really?” you asked softly, voice just above a whisper, letting the tension hang in the air. “Because it sure felt like it.”
He stared at you again, silence stretching between you like a taut wire, neither willing to let go—but both fully aware that this conversation was far from over.
Master Splinter’s calm voice cut through the tension like a gentle blade. He stepped into the kitchen, eyes scanning the two of you carefully. The subtle weight of his presence made the air feel heavier, as though even the hum of the lair had quieted in respect.
“No, sensei,” Leo replied quickly, straightening his posture, his voice clipped but controlled. His hands twitched slightly at his sides, betraying the irritation he was trying to mask.
You gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, letting your expression remain neutral, though the heat of the argument still lingered in your chest. Splinter’s eyes lingered on the two of you, unspoken understanding passing in the silence—he could feel the tension, even if the words weren’t said aloud.
“Very well,” Splinter said softly, his tone calm but carrying authority. “But remember, sharp words and unspoken frustrations have a way of growing when left unresolved. You would both do well to address them before they fester.”
Leo’s jaw tightened again, but he didn’t respond, merely inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment. You stayed quiet as well, letting the sensei’s words settle, though the undercurrent of challenge between you and Leo hadn’t dissipated—it had only been paused.
Splinter gave a small nod and quietly left the kitchen,
leaving the two of you alone again, the silence now ringing louder than before.
