Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - 7 - Making Waffles
#9 of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - More Than Brothers
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - More Than Brothers series These stories are based on a mixture of the TMNT comic universe and the New TMNT 2003 Cartoon series universe. This basically means three things: 1) All the turtles have tails. Just like real turtles. 2) The age distribution from oldest to youngest goes: Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo. 3) The storyline is that of the early TMNT 2003 cartoons. The usual disclaimers apply. I don't own the Turtles, this is fanfiction. All credit for their creation goes to Mirage Studios. Don't read it if you're not old enough. Don't read it if you're not into turtlecest. Don't say we didn't warn you. * * * More Than Brothers - Making Waffles By Donatello.tmnt [at] gmail.com The lair was somewhat calm at the moment. It was evening and just as Raphael had flipped through the channels and found a good action movie, Leonardo sat down in the couch next to him. "Hey Raph, whatchya watching?" He smiled and leaned up against his side with slight affection to watch TV. At least that was the way it felt to Raphael and he could not help but instinctively bare his teeth at the gesture. The personal sphere around him was a sacred thing and not to be violated on a whim, but for once he just grunted and ignored the intrusion. The movie was more interesting than starting an argument... for the time being. "A movie." It did not have quite the provocative effect on Leonardo that he had been hoping for, because his older brother just sat back on the couch and watched the screen without commenting on the smart-ass remark at all. It was almost disappointing. Splinter was drinking tea and reading a book by candlelight in his room with the door halfway open. Probably so he could keep an attentive ear on what was going on outside. Which at the moment was absolutely nothing. Raphael looked behind him over the back of the couch, down into the lair itself. The relentless tapping sound of a computer keyboard had stopped a few moments earlier and he now saw Donatello crossing the floor from his lab, wiping his hands thoroughly in a discolored rag as he headed for the kitchen, most likely to make himself a snack or something since dinner -- and evening training -- was still a few hours away. He turned around again and got comfortable on the couch, despite his big brother's uncomfortably close proximity, enjoying one of the few times he had the remote. He savored the power of decision for a moment, then realized it was not as much fun when no one was trying to fight him for it, and just tossed it onto the TV table with a slight sigh. They were almost past the opening credits and introduction of all the characters when the sweet scent of waffles started to spread throughout the lair. Raphael and Leonardo discovered it almost simultaneously and turned around to gaze towards the kitchen. They had nearly decided to ditch the movie and go for a snack when Michelangelo suddenly came leaping off the top floor from his room and landed on the ground with an enthusiastic holler. "Woohoo!" He spun around and darted straight into the kitchen, which made both of the TV-watching turtles quickly spin around and focus on the movie again. Even the sweet allure of waffles was not enough to make them willingly go share in the horror it was to watch their youngest brother devour them. They would wait until he had his fill and hopefully there would be some remains. The green shadow dashed through the kitchen and had attacked the large bowl before Donatello even realized what had happened. "Hey! You're not supposed to eat that, it'll make you sick." Michelangelo blinked and looked up, waffle batter dripping from his chin and back into the bowl. "Eech, you're disgusting. Go away, shoo!" Donatello tried to get the bowl back, but his brother was clinging to it still. He made an innocent face and blinkblinked his big doe-eyes in a exaggeratedly pleading manner. Donatello rolled his eyes and tossed him a paper towel. "Fine, I'll make you a waffle, just don't.. touch anything, alright? And give that back." Michelangelo grinned wide. He always knew how to make his brothers do stuff for him by acting like a goofball, but Donatello was especially easy to trick. "Sure thing, bro." He handed the bowl back and was completely oblivious to the evil eyes that were coming his way. Not that they would have affected his conscience anyway. It took a few minutes of one turtle glaring with his arms crossed and the other just smiling from ear to ear, before the batter had turned golden-brown and solid. It was deftly flipped onto a plate. "You want syrup or powdered sugar or strawberry sauce or chocolate sauce on it?" "Yeah." Donatello sighed and just took a scoop of everything and tossed it on the waffle before covering the mountain of topping with whipped cream. "There. If you go into sugar shock, you're on your own." "Thanks, you're the best!" Michelangelo happily snatched the plate from his brother and pulled out a chair from the kitchen table to sit down on. The poor waffle never saw it coming -- the large fork that cut it into disproportionally large chunks, which somehow still managed to disappear into the bottomless abyss that was Michelangelo's mouth. Several spoonfuls of batter was tossed on the searing patterned plates again, and Donatello closed them together, now forced to wait a long time for his own food to finish while he had to watch the orange-clad turtle scarf down his snack. Michelangelo was not a complete pig, however. He impaled a bit of waffle and sauce on his fork securely enough that he could hold it up towards Donatello, and then began waving the snack enticingly back and forth for a while. "It wants yooooooooou.." His haunting voice finally made Donatello crack and lean over to eat it. Michelangelo grinned as his brother's tongue slipped the food slowly off the fork and he munched away at it. Donatello was almost starting to forgive his silly brother for stealing his food... almost. But it still hurt a little to see him gobble up another large clump and chew noisily on it. "Ah, Mikey. You've got a bit of.. right there." Donatello pointed to his own cheek and watched his brother turn into one of those monkeys in the zoo who just stared at you with wide, curious eyes. His cheeks were bulging with waffle, and naturally his first reaction was to reach for the wrong side of his face to wipe away absolutely nothing, yet leaving a large wad of whipped cream, strawberry sauce and gods know what else running down his other cheek. It was too late to grab a napkin or anything nearby since the glob was advancing quickly and would leave a mess on the floor seconds from now. And he knew exactly who was the only person around here that cared enough about something like this to also be the one forced to clean it up. "Oh, for the love of.." Donatello leaped forward quickly to catch the escaping food out of pure ninja reflex. Needless to say, Michelangelo was a bit surprised to suddenly find his brother practically sitting in his lap -- both legs straddling one of his, anyway -- with their chests bumped together and Donatello's beak snatching away a glob of snack food just as it fell from his cheek. Donatello himself had a moment of reflection just then where he wondered why he had not just caught the food in his hand instead. Might have had something to do with his immediate craving for something to eat. He did not make all that batter just for fun, after all. Slowly he drew his head back until it came into view of his brother and he tried to give him a sort of apologetic, half-embarrassed grin. The immense amount of waffle in Michelangelo's mouth made him unable to actually express his mixed feelings about all this, but his wide-eyed expression pretty much told everything that needed to be told. The goofball turtle looked so adorable like that. His cute behavior usually got him out of a lot of trouble, but this time it was what got him into trouble. Donatello leaned forward and pressed his beak against his brother's, his tongue pushing right through the green lips and he fished out a bit of waffle to steal it into his own mouth. Michelangelo was shocked for a few seconds, and it was only until his brother's tongue tried to steal more food that he snapped out of it and pushed his own tongue forward to snake against it and attempt to get his precious waffle back. His brother grinned against his lips and swept the slippery appendage back to fight him for the piece of half-chewed snack food, leaning closer until their plastrons began grinding against each other. An arm wrapped around to hug Donatello closer so he could steady himself and keep his balance while they took turns stealing waffle from each others' beaks and swallowing their prize. They both quickly lost interest in the food, however, and once it was finally all gone, their tongues kept squirming and coiling about each other. One hand boldly ventured down the younger turtle's side, reached in-between him and the back of the chair, only to grab his rump and knead it firmly. The reaction was immediate as Michelangelo shifted in his seat to try and make more of his backside available, but it still was a pit of an awkward position. Apparently none of them cared that the circulating scent of waffle spread powerfully from the kitchen and into the rest of the lair, and could potentially attract any one of the others into the room at any point. Surprisingly enough it was Michelangelo who felt that nagging warning in the back of his mind and tried to ignore it, but that only lasted until he felt a single finger slide slowly up between his rumpcheeks. That pretty much obliterated all other thoughts in his head. The finger traced up the underside of the young one's tail and triggered sensations in him that he had not felt for a while now. The warmth spreading inside him blocked out all other emotions and his hand moved from his brother's shell up to the back of his head to pull him closer in the wet kiss. Flicking his stubby tail did little to ease the teasing, in fact it only seemed to make the fingers even more eager to catch and stroke it. The kiss grew more passionate by the moment, the slippery tongues doing their wet dance as a thin stream of mixed saliva and waffle sauces drooled down Donatello's chin and onto his brother's from where it started trickling down over his throat. Concentrated on the tongue battle and the way Donatello kept alternately biting and sucking his tongue, Michelangelo lost his grip and his balance. The chair tilted backwards and they both came crashing down on the floor, the youngest turtle landing hard on his shell with the older on top, although they never let go of each other at any point throughout the fall. "Ompf!" The orange-masked turtle grunted as he impacted with the floor and made quite a loud noise. If the sweet aroma of waffles did not attract anybody to the kitchen, surely all this commotion would? Looking around nervously, he still seemed to be the one most concerned about being discovered like this -- in a fallen chair with his big brother on top, four legs sticking in the air and Donatello insistently eating out his beak. Yeah, this would definitely qualify as a compromising position. Yet for some reason Donatello, who was usually the careful and planning one, had been acting completely oblivious to the world around him all through this, and he was still driving his tongue down the other teen's throat as if nothing had happened at all. The turtle on the bottom began squirming a bit, grinding their bellies together as even he found it hard to care about someone coming through the door right now and seeing the two of them, even though he knew they would be in big trouble. As was evident from his extensive comic book collection, Michelangelo was very easily distracted from reality, and this was no exception. He moaned as he opened his beak a little wider and let his hands roam down the other's shell until he found firm, muscular thighs to squeeze. It quickly became evident that their awkward position over the fallen chair was somewhat cumbersome to their free movement, and it was Donatello who grabbed around the sides of the other's shell and rolled over, tumbling with him once.. twice.. until they both slammed into the front of the oven next to them with the geeky turtle ending up on top again. He was not exactly being quiet about his antics today, and that nagging fear of constantly feeling just one second away from Leonardo or Splinter walking through that doorway to find them on the floor was still fighting for a voice in the back of Michelangelo's mind. He barely even noticed the pain of crashing into the oven over that more powerful emotion. They were separated only for a moment as Donatello reached up over them and yanked the plug for the waffle-maker out of the wall so the batter currently in it would not start burning. The food would have to wait until he was done here. It gave his brother a few moments to breathe in small gasps and when he tried to spread his legs out to get a bit more comfortable, the other turtle was quick to push his own legs in to fill the void and entangle the two of them together. There was no way that this was going to look innocent to anyone who walked in, but apparently everybody else had decided that they were not going to check on all the weird noises coming from the kitchen. No one even so much as peeped around the corner, maybe because they knew already that they would have a fit over the mess Michelangelo had presumably made. Usually loud noises from the kitchen when he was in there meant a lot cleaning up was required and anyone looking in on it might be shanghaied to help out, so maybe it was not so odd after all that everyone kept their distance. The smell of waffles slowly faded as they got cold sitting there. Donatello let the other get comfortable on the floor as he reached down unseen, grabbing the bottle of chocolate sauce that had fallen to the floor along with the two of them. He grinned in a way that Michelangelo was about to learn was his mischievous manner as he put the bottle between his legs, never alerting anyone else to its presence until the turtle on the bottom felt a cool, thick squirt of sauce splurt up between his legs and completely cover his hidden male bits inside his shell. He *gasped* with a sharp inhale and nearly sat up right there, but Donatello kept his weight on him to hold him down. The cold sauce clung tight against his heat and made his body shudder in the way he did when entering a pool of really cold water. It only took a few moments for the sauce to absorb his heat, however, and his gaze turned to one of great curiosity. Donatello grinned widely at his reaction before squirting another coat on and then tossing the bottle across the floor. It seemed like his brother had really managed to push his buttons today, or maybe he was just needy from being alone in his lab all day every day. Splinter's lesson had certainly brought the idea of sex to the forefront of all of their thoughts, even though they were told to repress it during training and such. Even Michelangelo who had all the distractions in the world in the form of DVDs and comic books had to admit that it was getting hard to fall asleep in his hammock at night without thinking about.. that lesson. Over and over again. And it looked like it was about to get even harder. Donatello leaned down to kiss his beak, then his throat and then his armored chest, leaving no doubt about where he was heading as he slipped backwards off his brother and down on the floor behind him. His kneepads touched the tiles first and then helped him crawl backwards as he beaknuzzled down the plastron of the younger reptile. Michelangelo shivered and lifted his head to look up at the ceiling. The coldness of the sauce added with the coolness of the kitchen made for quite a contrast against the heat of his body down there and he told himself that this was the reason he shivered, not the building anticipation in his loins at all. The kisses were just a precursor, but the sensation was still powerful enough for him to lift his knees up and spread his legs out more, leaving himself exposed to the air. Slipping downwards quickly, Donatello ended up with the top of his chest pressed into the small pool of brown that was already seeping out from the insides of the other turtle's groinshell and onto the floor. He grabbed around both thighs as they lifted at an angle with his arms hugging beneath the knees, upwards and around the muscular legs. This put his head in a perfect, and less than innocent, position for him to nuzzle and lick the insides of the thighs sensually, even adding a few lovebites as a way to get his full attention now. Michelangelo had felt the pressure of the other turtle on top of him as he slid down his lower plastron, but it was nothing compared to the pressure he felt down there now. The nips and licks made his heart race so fast he could hardly keep up and he knew he had to do something before the pressure became painful. He shifted his hips, pushing his groin up a bit before the pressure was finally released with a little help from wriggling his rear, and Michelangelo let his chocolate-coated self slide out underneath his shell and into the cool air around him. There was something greatly arousing and greatly embarrassing about getting an erection right in front of your big brother's face, but fortunately the other turtle was too busy to notice his blushing cheeks. Relying on his brother to keep guard at the door now, Donatello licked his lips at the sight of him sliding free, the warm chocolate sauce releasing its aroma much more effectively out in the open like this. There was a short pause just then where he looked up and their eyes locked for a split second. They knew it was forbidden. Splinter had left no doubt about that from their last lesson. They were not supposed to do anything but pet each other, but after Michelangelo's brief, interrupted encounter with Leonardo at that lesson, he wanted so badly to feel that way again. The sensation of a tongue against his glans had made a fire burn in his member that he had never experienced before, and wanted so badly to feel again. He watched every move even though he knew what was coming, and allowed himself a brief glance to the doorway to make sure they were still alone. Donatello leaned down and licked deliberately slow from right underneath his brother's sizable balls, up over the two smooth orbs, and slooooooooowly up his entire length, clearing a smudgy green trail as he went. Keeping watch on the door lasted only so long before Michelangelo's eyes refused to stay open. They squinted close all by themselves and the next sensation through his body was a shiver, accompanied by an involuntary moan that he quickly covered up with his own hand. His concern for whoever might potentially barge in and catch them in the middle of all this diminished with every inch that tongue cleared of chocolate from his shaft, until it reached the very tip where he no longer cared at all. His hips tensed under the hands holding him down as he lifted them up off the floor briefly, and his member twitched repeatedly as it felt like it was growing beyond an erection, it just kept swelling up every second that the slippery tongue touched it. It made Donatello grin inwardly at the reaction and he leaned down to take another long swipe across the bulging turtlebits hanging ready and dripping in front of him. The tongue dragged all the way up again, clearing away some of the chocolaty sauce while just smearing other parts to another place on the groin. This time he kept his eyes closed to focus more on the taste, scent, and subdued moans around him, which accidentally made him press his head up against the wet parts and rub some of the sauce off on his face. "Duuuuude..." Michelangelo let his breath out in a long exhale at the first pause between the two of them since the first touch. His chest fell slowly with the sigh and every little movement he made was felt by the way the warm sauce shifted and ran viscously down over his groin in a different pattern. This scene looked anything but innocent now, but he did not care anymore. One of his hands moved down to grab Donatello's shoulder, pulling him closer and rubbing that coated shaft against his beak on purpose this time, while his other hand fell weakly to the hard floor and somehow tried to get a grip on it. "You liked that, Mikey?" Donatello was amused by his insistent tugs, and was more than happy to help smear his beak over his sibling's sac and rigid turtlehood. "Don't stop, bro.." He whispered meekly in response, but did manage to make the other male feel the slight urgency in his movements. Donatello reached up to grab and toss off his purple bandanna to the side so it did not get sticky too. He pulled his knees up underneath himself to prop his torso up higher and bend over more, so he could snake his tongue around the glans of the throbbing erection right in front of him and slide it down into his beak by leaning forward. This was the move that made Michelangelo have to bite his own hand to keep from moaning out loudly. Looking down, he saw the line of chocolate on his brother's cheek drip down onto his own thigh when those same cheeks bulged out wide. He felt himself stiffen up in the wet mouth, that indescribable heat spreading throughout his loins rapidly and making him feel as if liquid fire was pumping through the veins in his cock. Another slide downwards that ended up engulfing two-thirds of him made his hips buck enough to feel the tip of his shaft bump against the back of his brother's hot beak, unable to go any farther due to the tight entry of his throat. It was amusing as well as exciting to be on the opposite end of all this. Watching the effect this had on someone else gave a major ego boost, as well as -- in Donatello's case at least -- make him proud that he could be the catalyst for such overwhelming pleasure in one of his closest siblings. His first encounter with Leonardo had been brief and heated; the one in the alley with Raphael was much more permanently branded in his mind and he now understood a lot better why he had done it in the first place. It had been quite a surprise back then to see Raphael assume such a.. submissive position, but feeling it on his own body right now, he had to admit there was a certain sensation of power over another being that came with this experience. He had absolute command over his younger sibling writhing on the floor and even though he did not feel the same as Raphael, he could easily imagine how his dominant brother could get off on this. Donatello felt the sting of time pressure now as well. They had been improbably lucky so far and it would be foolish to think this would last. He would have to speed up. Closing his eyes, he felt the sauce running slowly down the side of his face, past his lips and onto the base of the exposed shaft which he was urgently starting to slide back and forth in his beak. The wet insides combined with his hot breath and the tongue squeezing and poking from all sides, made for quite an effective way to clean up the chocolate-covered turtlecock, and in turn for quite an effective way to see how well Michelangelo could keep his own mouth shut. The turtle lying on his shell had long lost track of time, in fact he could barely even focus on anything beyond the sensation of that moist cavern squeezing and caressing him straight up into heaven. It made him shudder hard and stiffen up, his thrusts occasionally growing so eager and out of rhythm that he felt the arms around his thighs flex and hold him back. His fingernails slid helplessly against the smooth surface of the tiled kitchen floor on both sides and he felt like a turtle trapped on his back -- squirming and sliding around, unable to get up again. A hungry grunt came from Donatello who was bobbing his head up and down between his little brother's legs with great determination in his eyes. The slippery shaft slid in and out of his beak while the tongue slurped around it. He worked himself downwards, stuffing more and more of the green cock into his beak until he managed to make the tip bump lightly against the entrance to his throat every single time. All the experimentations going on for Donatello to find the perfect way to do this were hardly necessary. The young turtle was so out of it that he forgot all about where he was, he just felt that firm jerk of his own cock whenever the tight beak went down on him all the way. It felt like a dry orgasm, he could even feel his spine contract and his tailbone clench up as if he was letting it all go, but so far he was still just leaking precum onto the tongue that was busy slathering around his shaft. It was hard to fathom that something could be so pleasing that every heartbeat felt like another orgasm, but there he was, right in the middle of it. "Uuuuh.. ohh, d-don't stop, dude..!" Michelangelo inhaled sharply and tried to keep his raspy moaning to a whisper. The salty precum leaked freely from him now and he even gave a little extra spurt when Donatello's hands slid down and grabbed his rump firmly, smearing some of the chocolate over his behind while sucking him off hard on the kitchen floor. He knew he would need to be cleaned up somehow from this messy chocolate, but he did not care. It was getting harder for him to keep quiet, what with his body protesting the way he tried to hold back the cries of ecstasy to the point that he started to feel restless because that energy had to come out somehow. And soon. His thrusts landed with unrestrained fervor against the back of Donatello's mouth, who was eagerly feeding off the mixture of sweet and salty sauces that were smeared over his tongue. He went all-out on the poor turtle on his back, not even giving him a chance to be shy or slow about it, and by this time he was sucking so hard and quick that he might as well have yelled "Cum in my mouth!" at his brother. There was barely any time to enjoy the ticklish sensations and the breathtaking tongue-teases -- it just went straight to the point where his balls pulled up tighter and were pushed towards release faster than his body could follow. Michelangelo's fevered bucks became more desperate as the edge raced up on him. One hand moved up to grab the bobbing head between his thighs as the only warning before the pressure on his shaft finally made him jerk powerfully and shoot blasts of cum into the hot, suckling cave. Donatello quickly figured out what the hand meant and he sped up to a final sprint towards the finish line, but ended up feeling as if he had tripped right in front and fallen tumbling across it, since the burst of cream happened in the middle of his attempt to speed up. He closed his eyes and stuffed his face full -- suckling, slurping and nibbling just lightly with his teeth as they grazed across the chocolaty stick. His small cry of surprise literally drowned in his sibling's climax when he felt the sudden gush of thick, rich turtlecum explode in his beak and mix with the sugary sweet taste that had dominated it until now. It made for a strange cocktail, but one that he drank down all the same. Michelangelo brought up the wrist guard on his other hand and bit down on it to keep his own yell of pleasure muted, although it was still fairly audible to the other turtle considering the short distance between them, there seemed no danger that it would spread outside the room. The squirming teenturtle's hips bounced as he rode out his orgasm, the sensation and the heat just rushing through every pore of his body, almost making him numb to everything else. The world became background noise to his own distressfully loud symphony of pleasure. The grip of his hand on the smooth head dipping between his legs tightened with each uncontrollable contraction his spine made, and he could no longer feel the difference between the sauce and the parts of his own seed that managed to escape the suckling confines and dripped down into his groin as he became empty and his brother's beak became full. Six fingernails dug into the chocolate-slickened rump as the intensity of the thrusts peaked and Donatello concentrated hard to bury as much of the swelling shaft in his beak as he dared, letting the spurting tip mash against the back of his mouth, but keeping it out of his throat. He moaned at the sticky sensation spreading in his maw and slurped up as much as he could, clearly happy to get his fill of warm, incestuous seed, even if some of it managed to escape his suckling and dripped syrupy off his chin down on the spasming green sac below. He could feel how the other male tried to hilt himself in frustration and push through that tight barrier of his throat, but the best part was to deny him exactly that and let him ride the wave out fully. Donatello did not even make a move to start pulling away until he was certain the turtle had gotten his load off. The muffled groans died out as Michelangelo started to slow down, giving a few purposefully deep thrusts at the end to get the last globs of cum disposed off in the tight beak around him. He did not want this moment to ever end, but a great sense of relaxation shuddered through him and let him all soft and lazy -- all except his rigid shaft that stayed in his brother's mouth even after being drained dry. After a while of this it reached a point where even Michelangelo was about to look down and ask what that mouth was still doing on him, but before he could gather his breath and his thoughts, Donatello finally moved his head backwards. His brother was reduced to groaning and twitching in the hypersensitive afterglow as those lips dragged firmly all the way to his tip and made his balls ache from trying to give off another few spurts even though he was completely exhausted. The geeky turtle sat up, kneeling between his brother's legs and licked his olive green lips with a wide, satisfied grin. Looked like he had been wanting to do that for a long time. His fingers followed, leaving brief indentations in the skin -- a testament to how hard he had grabbed that rear at the very climax. One by one he licked his fingers clean while the other turtleboy watched him with a gleam in those weary eyes, left to himself in a puddle of chocolate and cum on the kitchen floor to recover. Michelangelo eventually let his wrist guard go and just let his arm fall down on top of his plastron as he tried to catch his breath. Not moving much at the moment since his body just would not allow him to, his knees slid down until his legs rested flat against the floor. "Whoa dude, that was totally wicked." Michelangelo grinned through half-lidded eyes and stared up at the ceiling again. "Well, I was gonna sneak into your room one of these nights so I could watch you jerk off, but this worked out even better." Despite everything that had just happened, the younger turtle blushed bright red around his cheeks at the thought of that. None of them said anything as his turtledick slowly softened and shrunk back up under his shell. Donatello got on his feet again and pulled a bunch of paper towels off the roll to wipe his own face off before he grabbed his mask and tied it behind his head again. His brother had forced himself to sit up and shook his head a bit to try and overcome that tiring sensation. He was still sitting in the sticky puddle, but the majority of the mess they had made was hidden once he had retracted back inside his shell. What was worse was that all the sauce was starting to dry up. He did not get much help either, since Donatello just squatted down grinning next to him and gave him a peck on his cheek. The young turtle took the opportunity to grab a few of those paper towels out of his hand and make a futile attempt at wiping away the dry stuff from his groin and inner thighs, but he just ended up smearing it more. Which just made his brother grin even more, of course. "You're a tasty turtle." He remarked with a wink and offered a hand down to help the messy male onto his feet again. Even if the paper towels did not do much good, they were probably a very good idea since Leonardo chose that exact moment to stick his head into the kitchen and inhaled exaggeratedly loud. "Hey dudes, do I smell--" he paused for effect and sniffsniffed the air with his beak pointing up, "..waffles?!" Leonardo's grin froze for a moment when he noticed the chocolaty mess over Michelangelo's thighs, "What happened here?" This is where the paper towels came in handy as a good cover-up. Donatello just shrugged calmly and threw a remark over his shoulder all casual, "Eh, just had an accident with the sauce." He turned back to his brother, "Doesn't look like it's coming off. You'd better go shower, Mikey, before that stuff gets stickier." Michelangelo used the counter for balance and luckily kept his bits hidden from Leonardo behind the other turtle for the brief time that they were still dangling when he poked his head in. "Good idea, I'll go do that. You'll have to make more for him tho, Don. Think those ones went cold." He said, playing it cool just like his older brother and walked right past Leonardo without looking him in the eyes because he knew that would have revealed the whole thing. Michelangelo might be mischief incarnated, but he had terrible difficulty lying to his brothers. While Leonardo stood confused in the doorway and was about to make further inquiries as to the fallen chair and other things from the table that lay around the floor, Donatello quickly grabbed the waffle plate and bumped it into Leonardo's chest to distract him and make him catch it. "Here, heat it yourself." He smirked and reached up to ruffle Leonardo's head. Leonardo grunted at the utter lack of service around here, but he had a hard time staying inquisitive about anything seeing what a chipper mood his geeky brother was in. To say nothing of his own tingling sensation at the moment. Raphael walked past the doorway through the lair and headed for the showers as well. Leonardo managed to catch him out the corner of his eye and he tried not to grin so wide that Donatello would notice something suspicious was going on. Instead he just cleared his throat and stepped over to the microwave while Donatello was picking things up from the floor and cleaning the kitchen a bit. It might have been an aftereffect or something, but he just could not keep his eyes off that firm, olive green turtleass right in front of him when Donatello was bent over picking up the bottles of strawberry sauce and syrup. It got so bad that his heart skipped a beat when the microwave right next to him suddenly went *ding!* Donatello stood up and just stared back at him oddly. "What?" "Nothing." Leonardo tried to shrug casually, but it still made him grin in that unnatural way. He simply did not have the courage to tell his brother how cute he looked with his rump in the air like that. Donatello just shook his head, "I think you need to calm down a bit." He had no idea.