“So, what do you do for fun?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Michelangelo and Leatherhead were walking side by side, the turtle clutching a few items to cozy up the mutant alligator’s new place. As the old subway train he’d been staying at was now being removed from a sewage treatment plant by very confused workmen, he needed somewhere new to go and calm down should one of his rages occur again.
“You know, stuff to relax and let loose.”
“I don’t know. Music calms me. Swimming…”
With the mention of music, Mikey looked down at the load he was carrying, one of the items being a new T-Pod he had commissioned from Donatello (sans the military-grade accident waiting to happen). This one had a built-in speaker so Leatherhead had a considerably larger choice of music.
When Michelangelo told Donnie of its purpose, the taller turtle did nothing but lecture his brother on the dangers of being around Leatherhead while constructing the new music player (his inventive nature prevented the refusal of technological requests, even against his better judgement). Mikey reassured him about his friend and begged Donatello to not tell Master Splinter. Donnie reluctantly agreed and loaded the T-Pod with plenty of calming music. He was thanked with a crushing hug from his brother.
“Call us if anything goes wrong,” the Turtle in the purple mask told the one in orange, “and please be careful.”
“Aw, worried about little old me?” Michelangelo teased as he gathered his things before leaving the lair.
“I meant be careful with the T-Pod. I’m sick of everything I make being destroyed.” Mikey looked at him, a little hurt, but Donatello just smiled good-naturedly and rubbed at the smaller Turtle’s head in a hair-tousling motion. Mikey also grabbed some candles from Splinter’s meditation room and some pillows and blankets from his own bedroom. He arranged to meet Leatherhead in a near-by tunnel and sure enough, there the gator waited, looking slightly nervous about being so close to the lair from which he had been forced out due to his loss of control. He looked pleased to see the perky little Turtle none-the-less.
“All right,” Mikey said when he saw his friend, “let’s find you a new pad.” They set out, looking for somewhere more spacious than the train carriage but still secluded enough to give Leatherhead some privacy and solitude. Michelangelo was sure not to travel too far from the lair, as he wanted his friend a little closer to home. After all, he planned on visiting frequently.
“Man, you gotta get some hobbies or something,” Mikey said when the alligator could think of nothing else he did for fun.
“I… I try not to do anything too physical when I don’t need to. I’m afraid I’ll… Well, you know.”
“You can’t let that run your life, big guy.”
“Better it run my life than end someone else’s.” The sombre remark stopped Michelangelo in his tracks for a moment. Leatherhead took a few more steps before realising his companion had stopped and looked back, curious. The Turtle thought for a moment before looking up, chipper once more.
“I’ll help you!”
“How?” Leatherhead asked, the curious look still on his face.
“We’ll just find something that gets you excited that doesn’t involve all the, ‘RAAAARRRGGGHHH!’” said Mikey, baring his teeth as he mock snarled.
“Thank you, Michelangelo, but you already risk too much be visiting. You’re the only one that has shown me kindness since I was taken from my human. I couldn’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” Mikey said and shrugged nonchalantly, picking up his confident stride and continuing past the now anxious looking Leatherhead.
“How… How can you be so sure?”
“I just am. I know you’re good. That’s all that matters.” The larger mutant remained unsure, letting out a guttural, contemplative sound. He followed after the trusting turtle in silence.
At length, they came upon a tunnel which seemed largely unused. Some of the brickwork was crumbling and pipes had run dry and broken off. The number above the tunnel and fallen away or grimed over with time and Mikey couldn’t remember ever passing this way. His inquisitive nature drew him in with Leatherhead close behind. The sound of rushing water seemed more distant in here. It was dimmer with no surface drains to let in light, be it natural or artificial, and no wiring nor caged lights seemed to line this tunnel at all. However, the light from the other tunnels reached far enough in to keep total darkness at bay.
“Hey, check this out,” Michelangelo said, stopping suddenly and kicking at a few bricks that had fallen from the wall which, going by the empty space revealed by the rectangular holes, was covering something up. He kicked harder at the wall and a little more crumbled away, but not enough to allow passage through. “Do you mind, LH?” Mikey asked, and gestured at the wall.
The alligator understood the request and approached, gently pushing his smaller friend out of the way. With a low grumble, he drew his arm back and balled his fist before thrusting it forward for a devastating punch which exploded through the brickwork, sending down chunks of masonry and kicking up dust, clearing a hole larger than he was.
The dust stung at the turtle’s throat and he coughed a few times as he stepped over the debris-littered threshold into this new place. It was too dark to see properly so he deposited the things he was carrying on the ground save for a single candle. He retrieved a lighter from beneath his belt (he had snagged it from Raph’s room before leaving, the older turtle having nabbed it and a pack of cigarettes from the surface, inspired by his badass comic book heroes. After one draw and several minutes of coughing he quickly kicked the habit) and lit the wick atop the wax, allowing the flame to take before holding it up to inspect his surroundings.
The flickering light shone upon large cylinders on the walls, casting vertical shadows upon one another. There was a small staircase to the right, leading to an elevated corner of the room. Circuit cases and shelves and lockers broke up the blank brick walls in places. A broken ladder in the corner half-climbed to a sealed entrance.
Michelangelo took in the details of the room as he lit more candles and placed them in different nooks and crannies, slowly revealing more of the rusted, somewhat dilapidated area. When all the candles were lit and placed he could see it in its entirety. It must have been around 20x30 feet, the second level of the room about 15x15. The bottom level still had a few leftover tools and boxes while the second level contained most of the technological devices meant for measuring or monitoring different things, disused and still and dark. Mikey figured it was some sort of maintenance room that became obsolete (Donatello taught him that word) and walled off.
He looked back at Leatherhead who was himself taking in the new surroundings and smiled. The alligator noticed and smiled toothily back. The turtle then ascended the few steps up to the elevated segment of the room and deposited the blankets and pillows, forming a kind of nest/bed. Once satisfied with his work he sat down cross-egged on the cushioning and looked at Leatherhead who had been watching him work. Michelangelo beamed back and patted the spot in front of him. Understanding the invitation, the larger of the two made his way to the spot opposite his friend and sat down, knees curling into his chest.
“Well?” Mikey asked, still smiling and expectant.
“It’s… comfortable.” Leatherhead said sincerely after a few moments. The candle light and cushions and joy radiating from Michelangelo made this forgotten place seem very warm and homely. He was surprised by how easily he was relaxing.
“Mm-hmm,” Mikey nodded and agreed. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly and stood to retrieve the T-Pod from where he had left it. “Gotcha a present~” the turtle said, half singing the last word, returning to his spot opposite the curious gator and sitting down once more.
He set down the shell-shaped device between him and his friend, all the while watching Leatherhead’s face, anticipating his happiness. He pressed the centre button down and after a moment, the room filled with a slow melodious mixture of stringed instruments. Leatherhead tensed slightly at first, surprised by the music pouring out of the tiny device, then relaxed completely, utterly, breathing out slowly, shoulders slumping, eyes closing. It would have seemed he drifted off save for the smile stretching across his face.
Michelangelo giggled but stifled it, not wanting to ruin the happy trance his large companion seemed to be in. Seeing Leatherhead so at peace filled him with joy and pride, having truly helped him.
“Michelangelo,” Leatherhead half-whispered after a few moments, looking up softly as he did so. “Thank you,” he said and Mikey could no longer contain himself and crawled forward and wrapped his arms around the gator’s midriff.
“No problem, dude,” Mikey said, cheek flush against Leatherhead’s side, sighing contentedly as he felt two enormous arms tentatively return the embrace.