Not your type!--Bay! Leonardo X Reader (Part I)
Next one!!: Not Your Type! (Part II)
Authors note: Did you know Nurses usually walk 5-6 miles during a 12 hour shift? I learned that in the lecture I wrote this fan fic in ahahhahaa- This also isn't proof read..
Synopsis: A quiet night in the lair turns unexpectedly tense when Casey’s playful flirting draws more attention than expected. Someone watches from the shadows, calm yet unnervingly focused, and the air between them begins to crackle with unspoken feelings.
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Michelangelo shouted as he threw his controller onto the couch cushions and jumped to his feet like he’d just won the Super Bowl.
I stared at the TV screen, the bright “YOU LOSE” flashing mockingly back at me. My defeated character slumped in the corner of the screen while Mikey celebrated like a champion.
I sighed, rubbing my face before looking up at him.
“Great job, Mikey,” I said with a small smile.
He pumped his fists in the air, spinning around in a victory lap across the living room.
“Thank you, thank you! I will be accepting trophies and pizza slices.”
This was the third time in a row he’d beaten me.
Now it was starting to get irritating.
I pushed myself up from the couch and walked over to the TV stand where the stack of video games sat beside the console. The cases were piled unevenly, some half open from Mikey digging through them earlier.
Behind me, Mikey had already collapsed back onto the couch, stretching out comfortably with his hands tucked behind his head like a king admiring his victory.
I flipped through the cases slowly.
“What about Minecraft?” I suggested, holding the disk up over my shoulder.
Mikey made a face immediately.
“Too many blocks,” he said dramatically, waving a hand like the very thought offended him.
I laughed softly and slid the case back into the stack before pulling out another.
“Well…” I said, examining the cover. “What about a hockey game?”
I held the case up so he could see it.
Before Mikey could even respond, a familiar voice echoed from the sewer tunnel entrance.
“Hockey? Sounds like my kind of game.”
Both of us looked up as Casey Jones walked into the lair like he’d been summoned by the word itself.
His hockey stick rested casually over his shoulder, and he tossed his mask onto the nearby table as he strolled into the living area.
Without hesitation, he dropped onto the couch beside Mikey.
“Ohhh, we got a professional opinion now.”
Casey leaned forward slightly, eyeing the game case in my hand with interest.
“Thought it might be fun.”
He reached out and took the case from my hand, flipping it over to look at the back.
“That’s definitely happening.”
“Are you kidding? I’d destroy you.”
I laughed as I took the disk back and moved toward the console.
“Well there’s only one way to find out.”
The console hummed to life as I slid the disk inside.
Behind me, Mikey scooted over on the couch to make room while Casey leaned back comfortably, stretching his arms along the top of the cushions like he was settling in for something good.
“Oh this is gonna be fun,” Mikey said.
Casey leaned back into the couch cushions like he had already won before the match even started. One arm stretched lazily along the back of the couch behind Mikey while the other loosely held the controller, his posture relaxed and full of confidence.
The kind of confidence that was just begging to be challenged.
Beside him, Michelangelo practically vibrated with excitement. He leaned forward so far his elbows were digging into his knees, eyes locked onto the TV screen like the loading menu was the most dramatic thing he’d ever witnessed.
I walked back over to the couch and tossed Casey one of the controllers from the coffee table.
“Alright, hotshot,” I said, dropping down onto the cushion beside him. “Let’s see if you can actually back up that ego.”
Casey caught the controller smoothly with one hand without even looking, flashing a crooked grin.
Mikey pointed dramatically between the two of us like a sports announcer.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to witness the greatest gaming rivalry in sewer history.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.
“I’m enhancing the experience,” Mikey said proudly.
The game’s menu music blasted through the speakers as the team selection screen appeared.
Casey immediately started flipping through the teams.
“Obviously I’m picking the best one.”
“You picked that in two seconds,” I said suspiciously.
“You didn’t even look at the stats.”
Mikey crunched loudly on a chip from the bag he’d grabbed off the table.
“I love the confidence,” he said through a mouthful of chips.
I selected my team a little more carefully, scrolling through the options before locking it in.
Casey nudged my shoulder slightly as he leaned forward.
For a split second both of our players skated toward it—
Then Casey stole it immediately.
“Too slow,” he said calmly.
His player darted down the ice like a rocket, weaving effortlessly between the defenders.
“Wait—what—how are you already—”
Before I could even catch up—
The loud horn blasted through the TV speakers.
Mikey exploded off the couch.
Casey lifted both arms in the air like he had just scored in an actual championship game.
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
“…That was like ten seconds.”
Mikey pointed accusingly at Casey.
“Okay hold on—hold on—have you played this before??”
Casey shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
Mikey collapsed back onto the couch laughing.
“Oh my god, you totally got hustled.”
I groaned and leaned forward again, gripping my controller tighter.
Casey cracked his knuckles dramatically.
The puck dropped again, and I immediately snatched control.
Mikey jumped up on the couch behind us.
Casey leaned forward now, his relaxed posture instantly shifting into focus as he narrowed his eyes at the screen.
“Yes,” I said determinedly.
Our players slammed into each other across the ice as we fought for control of the puck.
“Pass pass pass—NO NOT THAT GUY!” Mikey yelled like he was coaching from the sidelines.
Casey bumped my shoulder lightly as he leaned closer to the TV.
Right then my player broke free down the ice.
I threw both hands up in victory.
Casey leaned back into the couch again, laughing.
“Alright, alright. Beginner’s luck.”
“Excuse me?”
Mikey clapped loudly, the sharp sound echoing off the concrete walls of the lair.
“This is the best day ever!”
He bounced once on the couch cushions before flopping back down beside Casey Jones, still grinning like he had front-row seats to the greatest sporting event in history. The bag of chips crinkled loudly in his hands as he dug around for another handful, eyes darting between the TV and the controllers like he didn’t want to miss a single second.
Casey chuckled at Mikey’s enthusiasm before shifting slightly on the couch. He leaned a little closer toward me, resting his elbow casually along the back of the couch. His posture was relaxed, but the crooked smirk on his face said he was about to say something.
“You know…” he started, glancing from me to the hockey game paused on the screen.
“If you ever wanted to learn hockey,” he continued, his tone dripping with playful confidence, “I’m your guy.”
He gestured lazily toward the television with his controller, where the digital players skated across the bright white ice.
“Skating’s pretty hard,” he added, shrugging like it was common knowledge. “Balance, stopping, turning without wiping out. Most people can barely stay upright the first time.”
Mikey nodded seriously beside him.
“Oh yeah. I would fall immediately.”
Casey barely acknowledged him, his attention still on me.
“But I could teach you the basics,” he said, flashing that same smug grin. “Stick handling, skating drills… maybe even get you on the ice sometime.”
I folded my arms slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.
Casey shrugged again, leaning back into the couch cushions like the offer spoke for itself.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’m basically a professional.”
That earned a small laugh from me.
“Well… funny you mention that.”
Casey tilted his head slightly.
I leaned forward a little, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked over at him.
“I used to be a figure skater.”
For a second, Casey just blinked.
Mikey’s head whipped around so fast it was almost impressive.
I smiled a little at their reactions.
Casey leaned forward now, resting his forearms on his thighs as he studied me more closely, like he was trying to decide if I was serious.
I nodded toward the TV screen again where the hockey game still waited to start.
“So maybe,” I said casually, “I could show YOU a thing or two.”
Casey let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Figure skating and hockey are two completely different things.”
“Balance. Edges. Control.”
Casey narrowed his eyes slightly.
Michelangelo grabbed Casey Jones by the shoulder dramatically, nearly shaking him.
“DUDE, she’s like a ninja… but on ICE.”
Casey leaned back against the couch again, letting out a small laugh, though there was a hint of genuine impressment on his face now. His earlier smug confidence had softened a little as he looked over at me.
“Okay… that’s actually kinda cool.”
“Thanks,” I said, leaning back into the couch cushions and stretching my arms comfortably along the back.
The conversation settled for a moment, the soft hum of the TV filling the quiet as the hockey game’s menu music looped in the background. Mikey was still muttering to himself about “figure skating ninja moves,” while Casey tapped the controller lightly against his palm like he was itching to start the next round.
I tried not to notice it at first.
I figured he was busy with whatever he had been doing before coming into the room.
But every so often, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
The quiet clink of ceramic against the counter echoed softly through the lair.
It bounced off the concrete walls and metal pipes overhead, a small sound in the otherwise relaxed room.
Michelangelo was too busy leaning halfway over the back of the couch, staring at me with wide curiosity like I had just revealed some hidden ninja ability.
Beside me, Casey Jones lounged comfortably against the cushions. One arm rested along the back of the couch while the other loosely held the game controller, tapping it lightly against his palm while the hockey game menu glowed on the television.
“Okay… that’s actually kinda cool.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly, leaning back into the couch.
The cushions dipped slightly as I settled into them, stretching my arms along the backrest.
For a moment the room felt easy again—Mikey muttering excitedly about spins and ice and ninja moves while Casey chuckled under his breath.
I tried not to notice it at first.
Across the lair, in the kitchen area, Leonardo stood near the counter where his mug rested. Steam curled faintly from the tea as he remained there, tall and still.
But every once in a while, his gaze drifted across the room.
The first time I caught it, he looked away quickly, lifting the mug to his lips like he’d only been lost in thought.
Casey shifted slightly beside me, leaning forward as he studied the TV screen.
The game menu music looped quietly in the background.
Mikey continued rambling from behind the couch, still completely fascinated with the idea of spinning on ice.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed movement again.
Leo set his mug down on the counter.
The sound was soft—but deliberate.
He stood there for a moment, arms resting against the edge of the counter as he looked toward the living area, Watching.
Then he pushed himself away and walked away.
“Another round?” Casey says, showing me the controller.
“I think I might take five. “ I say standing up and walking toward wherever Leo vanished.
I paused at the threshold of the hallway, taking a deep breath. The faint hum of the lair’s ventilation echoed around me, mingling with the distant sounds of Casey and Mikey still squabbling over controllers.
Leo was nowhere in sight, but I could feel the quiet tension lingering in the air, the kind that made even the hum of electronics feel heavy.
I stepped lightly, careful not to make too much noise, my fingers brushing against the cool stone walls as I followed the faint trail of his presence. Around the corner, the dojo lay bathed in soft shadows, the large windows letting in a muted glow from the city lights outside.
He was sitting cross-legged on the polished floor, his eyes closed, hands resting lightly on his knees.
I hesitated for a moment, watching him. There was something calm, almost regal about the way he sat, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed the fact that he wasn’t entirely relaxed.
Taking a quiet step closer, I lowered myself to the floor a few feet away, mimicking his posture as best I could. My heart beat a little faster than it should have, the silence between us thick but not uncomfortable.
A few slow breaths in, a few slow breaths out.
I glanced sideways at him. His mask hid most of his expression, but the slight twitch of his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell, all told me he was trying to keep himself together.
For a moment, I simply sat there, letting the quiet settle around us. Then, softly, I spoke.
“You… okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight”
He didn’t open his eyes right away. Instead, his head tilted slightly, acknowledging me with the barest hint of a nod.
“I am,” he said finally, voice low, measured. “Just… collecting myself.”
I smiled faintly, understanding completely. Without another word, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, letting the quiet of the dojo—and of him—wash over me.
Minutes passed in shared silence, each of us wrapped in our own thoughts, but connected in a way that made the noisy lair behind us feel like a distant memory.
Slowly, imperceptibly, he shifted, his back straightening a little, shoulders relaxing, and I felt a warmth in the space between us—a quiet acknowledgment of trust, of closeness, of something unspoken.
I opened my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the dim light of the dojo. Leo’s form was still, his back straight, hands resting lightly on his knees—but the faint tension in his shoulders told me he hadn’t fully relaxed.
I shifted slightly, stepping closer, careful not to disturb the fragile calm.
“You know,” I said softly, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your own.”
Leo’s head shot up abruptly, and his eyes narrowed—not at me, but in irritation.
“Why are you here?” he snapped, voice low but sharp. “Go bother Casey if you’re so worried about someone other than yourself.”
I blinked, startled by the sudden sharpness. My hand paused mid-air, unsure whether to reach out or retreat.
“I… I wasn’t bothering anyone,” I said carefully, stepping back a fraction. “I just wanted to—”
“No,” he interrupted, standing abruptly, the soft calm of moments ago replaced with controlled tension. “This is my space. My training. My meditation. If you want to be here, you can go watch the chaos in the living room with everyone else.”
His words stung more than I expected. The dojo, usually a place of quiet focus and calm, now felt charged, electric with the edge of his frustration.
“I wasn’t trying to intrude,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I thought maybe—”
“Thought maybe what?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the calm exterior. “That you’d just stroll in and disrupt my focus? That this is a game? That your presence here doesn’t matter?”
I swallowed, heart hammering. He was mad… not at me directly, not entirely—but mad nonetheless. And somehow, it stung all the same.
“Leo…” I started, taking another careful step toward him.
“Go!” His tone was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “Seriously. Go bother Casey or Mikey or anyone else. But not me. Not here.”
I froze for a moment, my chest tightening. And then… slowly, I stepped back, lowering myself to the floor and sitting a few feet away, giving him the space he demanded.
Leo let out a deep breath, closing his eyes again, though his jaw remained tense. Even in meditation, even in stillness, the annoyance—and something more, something unspoken—hung in the air between us.
I stayed there, quietly, letting the silence stretch. My presence hadn’t left entirely, but I’d learned that sometimes, even when someone pushes you away, being nearby—silent, patient—was still a kind of closeness.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
I simply stood up and walked out.
End of part 1 twins, Not the best but what everrrr...
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