room at the table
(written for @fluffyjuly day nine: found family & day ten: ruffling hair)
Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Word Count: 3610
Posted on AO3!
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“Hey, kid.” Lenny greets, as Casey walks into the armory and drops his weapons off with a sigh. It’s a taser-gun, relatively new, and pretty deadly, the Genius Built symbol glinting purple in the light. “How was patrol?”
“Irritating.” Casey answers honestly, stretching his shoulder joint and hearing a ‘pop’. “I got caught in a feeding hunt. Had to take down a few dogs. Nothing crazy, though.”
“Right.” Lenny drawls, as he takes the gun. Casey watches him weigh it in his hands, and he raises an eyebrow before he goes to put it away.
“Both cartridges empty.” He calls from the storage. “And a nice, long cut on your arm. Not to mention the limp in your walk. But sure, it was ‘nothing crazy’.”
Casey scowls, trying to keep his arm out of sight and stand equally on both feet. “It really wasn’t crazy. I just rolled my ankle on some rocks like a dummy.”
“Hmm. Sure. On a completely unrelated note, you know I have a direct link to your sensei, right?”
He tenses, his eyes darting away. “...I know that.”
“Good.” Lenny answers. “Then you know I can tell him you haven’t gone to medical since you came back.”
“I don’t need medical!” Casey protests.
It’s too loud to be convincing. Lenny’s gaze ticks to him, unimpressed. “There’s blood on your scarf.”
“That’s, uh. Crayon ink.”
He raises his brow higher. “Have you ever even seen a crayon?”
“Yeah. Of course I have.”
“Then you should know crayons don’t need ink.” Lenny looks more and more done with this conversation. “Jones. Medical. Or I’m telling on you.”
Casey opens his mouth, to try to tell him that no, he really doesn't need anything, he is a-okay, but stops himself. He was never going to be able to out-stubborn Lenny. And Uncle Tello has eyes in every important room on the base. The last thing he needs is to get caught arguing in the armory and then be caught hurt-not-hurt.
“Fine, fine.” He groans, turning away. “Medical it is.”
“And I’ll be checking on you!” Lenny yells behind him as he leaves. “Don’t try me!”
Casey keeps his irritated growl to himself.
He tries to wipe the blood off the arm before he gets to the med ward, because it isn’t that big of a deal, really, it’s just a long cut that’ll take like, a day to heal at most. He thinks he does a decent job of it when he gets there, immediately overcome with the noise and the scent of antiseptic.
He moves to stand in an unassuming corner, simply watching the controlled chaos. Most of the beds are taken by humans and yokai of various shapes and sizes, bandages on their various injuries. Dr. O’Neil is in the back, a stethoscope slung around her neck and a tablet in her hand, ordering around her nurses this way and that, looking like the commander of her own domain.
Casey briefly wonders if he can make an escape, since he really doesn’t want to add on to their work, when she catches his eye.
Immediately, her face changes into something much more friendly and kind, her eyes getting tinier from the force of her smile. Going from being Dr. O’Neil to being Grams.
“Is that Mr. Jones Junior I see?” She asks out loud, and a few heads turn his way. Casey ducks his head, caught.
“Hi, Grams.” He walks up to her to immediately get trapped into a tight hug. A tension he didn’t know he was holding in his shoulders seeps out. “What’re you up to?”
“Making sure everyone’s alive.” Grams snorts, running a hand through his hair. “How was patrol?”
Casey doesn’t even blink at the question. Grams doesn’t have access to the patrol schedule, but somehow she’s always aware of when he goes out. “It was okay. Not too terrible, I promise.”
She lets him go, and looks him up and down with a critical eye. He tries to be casual about hiding his arm, but ultimately fails, when Grams just holds a hand out for him, an eyebrow raised.
“Ugh. And I also got a little scratch.” He admits, showing her his arm. Which, fuck, is bleeding again. Great, just great.
She purses her lips. “This is not a little scratch, Jones Junior. This is a deep laceration. And the fact that you’ve been back for at least fifteen minutes and it’s still bleeding, means…?”
“Means that I have to get stitches.” Casey mutters.
“Exactly. Which also means that you should not have tried to hide it from me.” Grams pulls him, gently, towards one of the empty beds, forcing him to sit down. Casey tries not to look at the person directly behind him, with their leg in a cast and half their face wrapped up.
“Sorry.” He offers, and does his level best to not wince as the wound is cleaned. He doesn’t even cry when the stitches are placed, keeping his eyes on the nurses.
The door to the ward opens, and in strides the Sergeant, her hair pinned back tightly and a set of sterilized tools in her hands. She catches sight of him and grins, teeth glinting white.
“Casey!” Auntie Sunita greets, before her eyes tick towards his injury. “Oh. Yikes. Bad day out?”
“Not too shabby.” Grams answers for him. “Didn’t even need more than five stitches.”
“Nice!” She says happily, dropping off the tools and joining them. She presses her lips to her hand and smacks him on the head with it. He smiles. “Hey, you’ll have an awesome scar now.”
“Oh, yeah! I’ll match with my Uncle.”
“Donnie would probably have a heart attack if he saw a single graze on you.” Grams snorts, and finally wraps his wound up. And plops a kiss on top of the bandage like he’s five-years-old.
“Grams.” He whines, embarrassed.
“Hey, that’s how the bacteria stays away from your insides!” Grams teases. “That, and hydrogen peroxide.”
“It’s like a good luck charm, too.” Auntie Nita nods sagely. “Them’s the rules, kid. Don’t argue with your grandma.”
The doors slam open again, and someone from the other patrol party emerges, half-carried by his friend, looking just slightly delirious from pain.
“Oh, damn, another concussion.” Grams mutters, and Casey can watch the shift back to Dr. O’Neil happen in her eyes. “Alright, then, Junior. Time to scram. Sergeant, with me.”
“On it, Major.”
Casey weaves through the crowd quietly, waving a gentle goodbye to some of the younger kids huddled together, and leaves.
The stitches pull at his injury, and he tries not to itch at it through the bandage. Ugh. It’d been his turn at the washing stations tonight before bed, and it’s going to be a nightmare. He hates trying to clean around a wound.
He heads downstairs, towards the bunks, because stupid mission reports don’t file themselves.
“Boo!”
Casey screams.
He whips around, one hand on his hockey stick, crouched into a defensive position, when he realizes what the hell he’s seeing.
It’s Uncle Angie, floating upside down, with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Casey groans aloud, as Angie cackles, his entire body turning in the air with the force of it.
“Oh my Spirits, your face —”
“Angie, that was not funny!”
“That was so funny! I hope to Pizza Supreme Donnie recorded that.”
Casey lets his head fall into his hands, trying to hide his smile. “God, I hope no one heard me.”
“Everyone heard you.” He hears the wry voice behind him, and sees Auntie Apes walk out from the Hamato family room. She has her locs collected into a ponytail, and she’s wearing her civvies. She leans against the doorway, shaking her head at him. “I’m sure even the dogs up there heard you.”
“Yep. We're gonna find out this area is suddenly red-lit, and it’s all because of me scaring CJ.”
“Damn, Mikes, I always knew you would be the end of us.”
Casey huffs as they joke back and forth, going inside. He changes out of his armor, putting on some shorts and a giant blue hoodie. There’s a tear on the cuff, but he pays it no mind. The sooner he gets the worst part of his day over with, the better.
He pulls out his tablet, sitting criss-crossed on his mattress, and starts the paperwork.
“Wow, how the heck do you have the patience to do reports in silence? ” Angie groans, paddling in the air to float directly above Casey, strands of gray hair hanging down. “That’s so boring.”
“I like to do my reports with some Beyonce playing in the background.” Apes pipes up. “Same way I used to do homework, back in my day.”
“Eugh. Homework.” Angie physically recoils, wrapping his cloak around himself like it would protect him. “Horrifying. Hey, did we ever tell you what homework was, Ceej?”
“Uh.” Casey says distractedly, wondering if a half-Krangified cat he’d encountered near the Midtown area counted as a ‘witness to an accident’. “Oh, yeah. Mom used to say it was like a—medieval torture device.”
Apes snorts. “No one’s more right than Cassandra Jones.”
“Amen.”
Casey’s lip quirks up.
They stay in the room for a while, Casey flitting between finishing his paperwork and watching Angie make Apes float so they could dance to Beyonce’s Single Ladies in the air. It takes him twice as long, mostly because he keeps accidentally mixing up his report with song lyrics.
“See, now, why aren’t we like him?” He hears Apes say, when he’s finally at the part where he has to promise that he did his work all by himself, no proxy utilized. “Why don’t we do our paperwork immediately after we come from a mission?”
Angie sighs, quietly, and Casey tries not to look over at the thread of wistfulness he can pick out through the breath.
“Well,” Angie answers, “Casey Jones Junior has always been the best of us.”
He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Apes hums in response. “That’s very true. Y’know how I know that?”
From his periphery, he sees her poke a finger into Angie’s cheek, who giggles softly. “It’s ‘cause he has your smile.”
“Heh. You think so?”
“Of course. Don’t you remember when Casey adopted him? She was pissed that he looked more like you and Raph than her.”
“Oh, I remember that! And then we had an arm wrestling competition to see who he was going to be named after.” Angie tsks. “Still can’t believe she won.”
“He could have been named Raphael Junior. Or maybe Michelangelo Junior.”
“Yikes. Yeah, no, it’s better she won.”
Casey takes a deep breath, stretching his neck, letting them know he was done working. He shoots them a tired smile. “Time for dinner?”
Apes blinks blankly at him for a second, and Angie rolls his eyes. “Yes, thank you, CJ, for actually reminding some people that they need to eat.”
Apes rolls her eyes but concedes, standing up and putting her locs into a bun. “Yeah, fair. I was fully going to go into a meeting.”
“We know.” Angie and Casey intone together, and chuckle.
The mess hall is crowded when they get there, loud and bustling, the sounds of laughter and jokes drifting in the air. It looks like nearly everyone, including the night-shift workers, showed up tonight.
“Wow.” Apes says, eyebrows raised. “What’re they making?”
On a giant banner, just above the serving station, are the words ‘Apocalypse Cake! First Come, First Serve!’
“Cake?” Casey reads, surprised. He tries to think back to all his old storybooks, wondering what on earth it was made of. “Don’t you need, like, that brown stuff? Brown chalk or whatever it was called.”
“I think you might be referring to chocolate.” Angie huffs, nudging him towards an empty table. “And—dang it. Now I miss chocolate.”
“It’s okay, Mikes, I think it would just spike your blood sugar now.” Auntie Apes jokes, and Angie gently swats at her with a tiny mystically conjured chain.
“Shouldn’t we go up there?” Casey asks. “They’ll run out.”
Uncle Angie winks at him. “Well, when you have an in with the kitchen, no, they won’t.”
“Ah, Michelangelo,” they hear a voice drone behind them, “you always were such a deviant. I’m so proud of you.”
Casey turns, and sees Uncle Tello step to their table with a small smile, looking away from the four purple holograms floating near him. He grins.
“Uncle Tello!” He gets up and immediately wraps his arms around him, fingers fisting in the yellow Cuddle Cakes crewneck.
“CJ-squared.” Tello greets him, affectionately rubbing his back. “I saw you had to go to medical today.”
“Ugh. You were spying on me?”
“I spy on everybody. That’s my job. How else would I know that you guys had a dance party without me?”
“Yeah, we did. Your jammy-jams were sorely missed.”
“Sassy.” Tello notes. “You’re getting very sassy. I don’t know if I like it or not.”
Another three-fingered hand comes to Casey’s head to ruffle his hair. It’s a different, bigger one. A hand he’d recognize anywhere.
“Oh, c’mon, Don-Tron.” a familiar voice teases. “Give someone else the chance to be the ‘Sassiest of Them All’.”
Casey glimpses up, and sees the well-known twist of Sensei’s grin looking down at him, and wastes no time in hooking an arm around his waist and bringing him into the hug.
Sensei snorts out of surprise, and then squeezes Tello and him hard enough for both to squeak. “Group hug! I love group hugs.”
Tello sighs, exasperated, muttering mild insults under his breath which he responds to in kind. Casey smiles into Sensei’s dark blue shawl. And yet, no one lets go.
“I’m finally off, please tell me dinner is served—oh. Aww. See, I always knew the General was an utter softie.”
Casey extricates himself, surprisingly blinking some wetness away from his eyes as he chuckles. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he got his personal favorite kind of twin hug. He missed it.
Lenny tilts his head at him knowingly, but says nothing. Instead he smirks, eyes darting to Sensei. “You greet all your students like that?”
Sensei rolls his eyes at him. “My favorite ones, sure. And I’d like to remind you, oh Loathsome Leonard, that you always hide an extra taser gun away from the main store, completely off the books, just to save it for Casey.”
Lenny clears his throat, looking away suspiciously, while Casey’s jaw drops.
“Are you kidding me?” He exclaims, feeling both shy and also a little indignant.
“Oh, Len’s like a total softie.” Angie drawls. “Remember when he gave up his favorite pair of gloves to CJ when he lost his?”
“That was your favorite?” Casey gapes at Lenny. “You told me you hated those!”
“Shut up. All of you.” Lenny grouses, sitting down and completely ignoring Casey’s scoff. He shoots a glare at Sensei. “If you tell anyone—”
“That you love Casey Junior?” Sensei snorts. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”
Lenny rolls his eyes hard enough to probably see the inside of his brain. Despite his indignation, Casey tries not to grin cheekily.
“Oh, good, you’re all actually here for once.” Grams’ voice says above their heads, and he feels nails raking through his hair. “Jones Junior, you desperately need a haircut.”
“Why?” Lenny grunts out, messing with the bandana holding his own long hair together. “He looks fine.”
“No, he doesn’t. And neither do you. You’re both getting a haircut first thing in the A.M. Major’s orders.”
Casey and Lenny start to complain loudly in the exact same petulant tone, which makes them pause as the table erupts into laughter. Lenny’s smirk gets a tad warmer.
A smell wafts around the mess hall just then, something nutty yet caramelized, and nearly everyone’s heads whips towards the source.
Danny storms out of the kitchen, cutting through the long line of people waiting to be served, coming straight towards them with a tray. He’s still wearing his stained apron and mitts, and when he places the dish on the table, he nearly collapses into his seat, head in his folded arms.
“I. Am. So fucking tired.” He groans. “Who’s bright idea was this shit?”
“Hey.” Grams says sternly. “Language, Daniel.”
Danny looks up, exhaustion mixed with faint irritation in his eyes. “Carol. Trust me, I love you, but I’m going to curse however much I fucking want right now. I’ve spent three days getting the tannins out of thousands of acorns, and then grinding all of them until they were finer than talcum powder. I can’t even feel my arms anymore.”
Lenny pats his back commiseratingly, as Casey leans towards the tray. There are nine pieces of a really thick, dark brown cake, slightly burnt crust at the top. The caramelized smell comes stronger now, and it’s something he can only barely recognize, making his mouth water.
Uncle Tello blinks at the dish, seemingly stunned as he dismisses all his projections. “Is that… honey?”
Danny incoherently mumbles an agreement.
“Honey?” Auntie Apes asks, shocked. “Where on earth did you get honey from?”
Danny doesn’t answer, almost halfway asleep. Lenny shrugs.
“The new refugees got it for us.” A sweet voice pipes up, and they turn to see Aunt Sunita hurry towards them with a smile, her cloaking broach on her civilian jacket. “Sorry, I’m late. But yeah, it was the group that came in from Maine. One of the grandmothers had a jar saved up. She let us use all of it today.”
“Holy shit.” Angie whispers, and Casey spies a light in his eyes he hasn’t seen in a very long time. “Guys. We’re feasting tonight.”
“God.” Sensei shakes his head in wonder, as everyone grabs their designated slices. Lenny twists Danny’s ear until he wakes back up and takes his own with a scowl. “I haven’t had honey since…”
The sentence hangs, and the moment around the table sours, just a little. Solidifying into something Casey’s all-too familiar with.
Sensei shuts his eyes. “Since the last time we all had tea.”
“I remember that.” Grams says quietly, studying her piece. For a second, she looks older than usual. “It was the night we’d found this cave.”
Danny nods, solemn, tapping at the table absentmindedly. “Yeah. Just after the Hidden City finally collapsed. We’d all carried whatever supplies we could, and… Master Splinter, he brought his tea.”
A melancholy smile grows on Tello’s face, as he swallows. “It was sakura tea. Japanese cherry blossoms. He lit a fire, and asked me to make a pot and some cups with my ninpo. And when it was done, he put the last bit of honey we had in each cup. Well, he put the most in mine.” He adds with a chuckle. “I hated the taste so much, I literally could not drink it without honey.”
Sensei takes a breath, and lets it out slowly. “I remember he gave us this speech. About how sakura tea represents resilience in times of uncertainty. It wasn’t even a metaphor—the tea was made out of blossoms preserved through many, many years.”
Sensei’s arm comes up and around Casey’s shoulder, as he continues, “He told us it was a lesson we should learn, before we start building this base. That hope persists, like the wind under every floating pink petal. It can ebb and flow, but it’s never truly gone. He wanted our hope to fuel our resilience.”
He squeezes Casey’s shoulders, and he glances up. His sensei is smiling at him, and, damn, his heart leaps at the pride on his face. He hopes to the Spirits he’s not imagining it. Making his family proud is all he’s ever wanted.
“And so, now, I guess it’s my turn.” Sensei raises his piece of cake, and so does everyone else.
“A toast. To every single person at this table. You are some of the kindest and bravest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. And the privilege of loving.” Sensei says.
There’s a small waver in his voice, and Casey reaches and squeezes the hand on his shoulder tightly.
“You have shown immeasurably loyalty, not only to our cause, but also to this family. You are the reason the Hamato legacy lives on. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you are, and everything you’ve done. And I hope to all the Spirits above that your stomachs can digest the atrocity we are about to eat."
The table breaks out into a bark of surprise laughter. Grams shakes her head, her fingers intertwined with her daughter’s. Angie pats at the corner of his eyes with his cloak, and stands up to affectionately bonk his head with Sensei’s. Tello meets his twin’s eyes, and something deep and unspoken passes between them, before he hooks his ankle under the table with his. Auntie Nita twists and rests her legs on Lenny’s lap, while Danny leans onto his shoulder, both giggling at the fake irate look on Lenny's face.
Casey just watches all of them, happy. And something in him tells him to memorize this instant forever, to brand the curves of their smiles and the lilts of their voices onto the walls of his brain. It’s that strange feeling he gets sometimes, that tells him a moment is beautiful and fleeting and rare while he’s living it.
He breathes, and takes a bite of his cake. It’s gritty and earthy, but just sweet enough.
He listens to that feeling, and memorizes it all.
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