Work Text:
The Day The Music Died
by Pirate Turner
"HEY!" Mikey cried out, toppling, as Leonardo pushed pass him. Leo charged on. Donatello caught Mikey's flailing arms and steadied him.
"ARE YOU OKAY?" Donatello yelled over the rock music blasting through the sewer.
Mike nodded. "I'm fine. Thanks, but what crawled up his shell?"
"What do you think?"
They nodded and spoke together, "Raphael."
"So what are you doing?"
"I thought I'd go for a walk." Mikey peered cautiously around Donatello's shoulder. "You do not want to go in there."
Michelangelo felt his brother pause and looked back to him. "What?" he questioned, seeing the sudden look of horror on Donatello's face.
"Move," Don advised. "Now." He yanked them out of the way, and Mikey looked back to see their beloved Sensei coming straight toward them. Every strand of Splinter's graying fur stood on end. His long tail whipped angrily about behind him. Dark fury clouded his usually patient and calm face. He was the angriest that Mikey had ever seen him, and Mike shook inside of his shell just watching him.
He and Donnie quaked inside as Splinter closed the distance between them. Mikey pointed inside the tunnel with a shaking hand. Splinter's eyes raked over them. His whiskers twitched; his tail whisked. "Hmph." He walked on into their home.
His dark eyes widened in surprise at the sight with which he was met. Raphael was playing air guitar over his shell where he stood on top of the old and already breaking coffee table that Splinter had painstakingly smuggled into the sewer.
Splinter's ears laid back against his furry, aching head as another screech of what his foolish, teenage son considered to be music belched from the radio. Raph had his eyes closed and screamed along with the music, completely unaware of his father's presence, "ROCK THE CRADLE OF LOVE!"
"RAPHAEL!" Splinter's voice boomed over the music.
Raph was so startled that he fell off of the table and hit his shell hard on the floor. "Master Splinter!" he yelped as Splinter cut off his music.
Splinter's tail snapped through the suddenly quiet atmosphere. "Your . . . music," he grimaced, almost unable to believe that anybody could call that racket music, "could have led the above worlders to us. Twenty-five flips now."
"But -- "
"Fifty," Splinter snapped, his tail again striking the air. "Go. Now."
"Yes, sir." Raphael slunk away.
"Donatello?"
Donatello hesitantly poked his head in; Michelangelo fervently hoped Splinter wouldn't call him too. "Yes, Sensei?"
"I am confiscating this machine." Splinter's nose crinkled with disgust. He lifted the radio with his staff. "Do not build another one."
"Yes, Sensei."
"Gee, thanks, Raph," Mikey muttered.
"Michelangelo!"
"Shutting up now, Sensei."
"Good." Splinter sighed. "I have a migraine."
"We'll be quiet, Master Splinter," Donatello vowed.
"See that you are, my children."
The Turtles let out collective sighs of relief as Splinter left the room. "He'll get over it," Donnie whispered to Mike.
"I hope so." Mikey pouted; Donnie reassuringly patted his shoulder. "Leave it to Raph to cause the day the music died!"
The End