Title: A Turtle's Breakfast
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Character/Pairing: Mikey, Leo, Ensemble
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: fan_flashworks #158: Egg
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,187
Date Written: 18 June, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.




"Mikey, you're up early."

"I wanted to make sure this turns out right."

"What turns out right?" his big brother questions, but before Michelangelo can answer, Leonardo lifts his beak into the air and sniffs. "What's that smell?"

"Bacon?" Mikey suggests, handing him a piece.

Leonardo quickly snaps into the warm, crispy meat but still shakes his head. "It's good, but it's not what I'm smelling." He looks doubtfully at the small stove their genius brother built for them from parts he found in the sewer years ago. "What do you have in there?"

"Eggs?"

"You're cooking eggs in the stove?"

"Actually, I scrambled them on top first."

Leonardo still looks doubtful. "You're not making pizza?"

"Well . . . " Michelangelo shuffles, his hands tucking behind his shell and his eyes falling to the cement floor. "Sensei kinda said he was tired of it yesterday."

Leonardo sighs. "Not again."

"I don't care if he is tired of pizza," Raphael grumbles, walking into the kitchen. His words are pierced by a loud, long yawn. "That's what I want for breakfast."

"Me, too, but Sensei's tired of it, so I kinda tried something else . . . " Michelangelo bends to check the stove. Both Leonardo and Raphael try to peer into it to see what he's making, but he swings his shell just right to block their view. He grew accustomed to hiding things from his brothers years ago, mostly because he knew Raphael would break his toys and Donatello would want to conduct experiments with them and he might not get them back for months, if then. Leo never showed any interest in playing with toys, but any time he caught Mikey playing, he tried to convince him to train instead.

"Uh huh," he tells him, swinging his shell each time they move behind him and continuing to block them with expert ease. "Not yet. It's not ready yet. I'll bring it to the table in about ten minutes."

Leonardo steps back with a slight nod. "Just enough time for a quick morning meditation," he says approvingly. He turns to Raphael as Michelangelo turns and shuts the oven door. "Join me?" he offers.

"Get fucked." Raph glowers, and Mikey knows it's not his stomach's rumbling that suddenly fills the kitchen.

"Nine minutes," he offers with a trembling smile as Leo rolls his eyes.

"Good morning to you too," he mutters.

Raphael turns back to Mikey as Leo leaves the room. "Hurry up," he growls, "or I'll eat it raw and use your bandana for my napkin."

Mikey makes a face, but Raph leaves before he can retaliate. Leonardo's right: His brother definitely isn't a morning person, but then he isn't much of an afternoon or night person, either. Raph's always angry about something. Most days, the one time his anger eases is when his mouth's full of pizza. Michelangelo glances doubtfully at the stove, hoping his new concoction will have the same effect but also wondering if it can really appease the appetite of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who loves his pizza. He drops into a chair, whizzes his numchuckas idly, and waits.

He doesn't have long to wait. True to his word, he's pulling out his creation nine minutes later and blowing the steam off of it. He shuts the door with his foot, having already turned off the oven, gives it one last scrutinizing look, and proudly carries his creation to the table where his brothers are waiting. Raphael is grumbling to himself. Donatello's absorbed in his latest gadget, which he knows he shouldn't have brought to the breakfast table with him. Mikey doesn't say anything about it, though; he'll let Sensei take care of the genius' divided attention when he arrives.

Only Leo actually looks up at him. "I thought you said you weren't making pizza?"

"Well, I wasn't," Mikey says with a doubtful look. "Not really any way." He lowers the pizza pan where his brother can see his creation.

Leonardo surveys the food with an equally doubtful expression. "What is it?" he queries.

Mikey shrugs. "Breakfast."

"Eggs, bacon, ham . . . " Leonardo identifies, sniffing.

"Food," Raph groans. Immediately, he reaches over and stabs a slice with his sai. He tears off of a mouthful and eats hungrily.

"There's such a thing as manners, Raphael," Leonardo mutters but Mikey's almost hopping up and down in place with his expectancy.

"How is it?" he asks eagerly. "How's it taste? Do you like it?"

Raphael licks white gravy from his beak as he finishes the slice. He aims his sai for another slice, but Leo deftly swipes the pan out from under him. "Gimme another piece," Raphael growls, "and I'll tell ya if I like it."

"It's for all of us, Raphael," Leo tells him sternly. "Michelangelo, if you'll sit down, I'll serve."

Mikey does as he requests as Raphael now rolls his eyes. Leonardo stands, tosses the pie up into the air, and begins to serve. His katanas make quick work of the new pizza-like pie, dropping slices onto everybody's plate. It's only when he aims for the plate at the end of the table that he misses.

Splinter sighs wearily, having entered the room just in time for a slice of pizza to eat him on top of his furry head again. "Michelangelo," he says, the tip of his swishing tail the only sign of his impatience, "I thought you were going to be investigating other avenues than pizza."

"I was, Sensei," Mikey answers obediently, "but I thought we might all like this."

Donatello and Raphael are too busy scarfing down their breakfast to speak, but Leonardo bows his head with respect. "Sorry, Sensei," he apologizes, sheathing his katanas.

Splinter licks a bit of the scrambled eggs and white, sausage gravy that has slipped down onto his whiskers. His stomach immediately chirrups his approval. "There is no need to apologize, sons, but . . . " He licks some more gravy, and his long tail swishes. "What do you call this, Michelangelo?" he queries softly.

"Hum, breakfast pizza?" Mikey squeaks.

Splinter takes his seat and carefully peels the slice off of his head. "It may still be pizza, but it is good," he says with approval, taking a bite. Mikey releases the breath he'd been holding and immediately fills his mouth with pizza. Leonardo places the last slice onto Splinter's plate and finally sits down to his own serving of their breakfast.

Splinter's tail swishes as he eats. It isn't necessarily that he dislikes pizza. He does grow tired of it on occasion, but his son is quite talented in creating new pizzas to keep them all desiring his culinary concoctions. Still, he thinks with a sly smile and a stifled sigh, perhaps if he was to serve raw fish from time to time, he might not have to clean it from his fur and whiskers. "Perhaps we can have sushi tonight?" he suggests softly.

The sewer erupts with his son's boisterous complaints. Splinter smiles calmly in the midst of their bellows, but Mikey does nod. That night, true to his word, he serves fish -- on another pizza crust.

The End