This humourous one-shot fits into my 2k7verse, which incorporates "the Utrom Arrival" as having occurred in 2011, meaning the turtles can now claim alien status and live openly amongst humans. This story takes place in early 2012.

This is a really different style for me! I hope it works.

"Bro!" Casey Jones' voice echoed off brick walls as he clattered down the stairs and into the lair. "You ready to party?"

On the second level, Raphael emerged from his bedroom, zipping up the oversized leather jacket he wore. "Yeah, yeah," he called out to Casey below. "Keep your fuckin' shorts on."

Casey grinned toothily as he gazed up to where Raphael strode the concourse around to the staircase, and then ran a hand back through his tangled hair. "You won't be sayin' that too often where we're going tonight!"

Raphael slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs, giving his friend a quizzical glare, brow ridges furrowed. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout, Jones?"

Casey grinned and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans, shook his hair back. "Nah, c'mon. It's a surprise."

Raphael cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the grinning vigilante. For the first time, he noticed Casey wasn't wearing his usual grimy sweatpants and wifebeater. Casey's jeans were clean and his button-down shirt had been pressed, the sleeves neatly rolled up halfway. Shit, the bonehead had even shaved.

Raphael finished tugging on his riding gloves, then let his arms dangle by his sides, fists loosely clenched. He looked Casey dead in the eye, who smirked and popped his gum.

"C'mon, Case. Where we goin'?"

"You're gonna love it, man!"

"Just tell me!" Quick-tempered as ever, Raphael practically barked these words at his beefy pal, his eyes bulging slightly behind his red mask. Casey held his hands up in mocking appeasement.

"Okay, okay!" he chuckled. "Sheesh!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully and shifted his weight, steel-capped boots scraping against the cement. "Bro, I have been waiting to take you to wunna these since you first got legal! Prepare yourself, man, because tonight is gonna blow your mind! Tonight, my little green buddy, you are in for the time of your life. Cos you and me, my friend, we - are going to - a - strip club! Ow! Yeah!" Casey punched the air with a fist, then beamed expectantly at Raphael.

Raphael stood at the bottom of the stairs in his leathers, staring deadpan at Casey. Several long, silent moments passed in which the turtle glared at his human friend, expression unreadable, while Casey grinned and waited, thick eyebrows high on his tanned forehead.

Finally, Raphael moved. "No," he said flatly, and turned to walk back up the stairs, stripping off his gloves as he did so.

Casey's face fell and he started after him. "Wha? Huh? Hey Raph, what the hell, man? Why not?"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" Raphael threw over his shoulder as he jammed his gloves into the pocket of his jacket, then furiously unzipped it. "I ain't goin' to a fuckin' strip club, Casey."

"But why not?" Casey sounded genuinely confused as he hurried up the stairs to catch up with Raphael. "You can go anywhere you like now! Ain't nobody gonna stop you. And you're a free man - so'm I for that matter!" he added pointedly. "Nobody to get in trouble with." He reached out and laid a hand on Raphael's shoulder only for the hot-headed turtle to violently shrug it off, turning to his friend with a scowl.

"I ain't fuckin' goin'!" he bellowed, for once towering over Casey on the stairs.

Casey's eyes widened and he backed down a step. "Woah. Okay, Raph. Take it easy, buddy. I thought you'd be into it."

"I'm into it!"

Both Casey and Raphael's heads swivelled to stare over the railing. In the middle of the lair, a raised platform served as the den, strewn with battered old couches and beanbags clustered around an entertainment system. Michelangelo was leaning over the back of an over-stuffed red sofa, gazing up at them with wide blue eyes, his expression keen and hopeful.

He chuckled sheepishly, scratched the back of his head. "I'll go with you, Casey. That's cool, right?"

Casey blinked at him and turned on the stairs to amble back down. "You wanna go to a strip club, Mike? Really? But I thought you - uh - "

Michelangelo rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ugh! I told you guys - I swing both ways!" He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "All ways. Anyway, yes, I most definitely want to go to a strip club! I have been wanting to go to a strip club literally since I was eleven years old and first saw that movie Striptease with Demi Moore and the boobaliciously beautiful Pandora Peaks and, not to forget, the uber hot and gifted dancer Rena Riffel - oh and how about Burt Reynolds in one of his most brilliant comic turns ever, I swear that movie is an underappreciated work of genius - but anyway! Hell yes, to a strip club! Are you kidding? I have been waiting my whole life for this moment! I have been imagining myself in a pulsing, dark-lit, sweaty room surrounded by butts and boobs and beautiful babes since I was old enough to have wet dreams! And I am here to tell you Casey Jones, there is no way on this good green earth you are even gonna think about taking one of my bros to a strip club and not take me too! I'm in!"

Mikey's speech came to an abrupt halt with a fist thudded emphatically on the back of the sofa and he stared up at Casey and Raphael, panting lightly, his plastron rising and falling with every breath.

Casey chuffed and rubbed his nose with a finger then glanced up at Raphael. The turtle in red stood arrested on the stairs and was staring disgustedly at his brother. Casey shook his head, then grinned at Michelangelo.

"Well, how can I argue with that? Okay, Mike, get your shit together and let's go!"

"All right!" Michelangelo crowed, punching the air with both fists before rolling backwards off the sofa and bouncing to his feet. "I got a tin full of dollar notes I have been saving for this very day! Just gimme five minutes!"

Casey leaned on the banister and laughed as Michelangelo made a run for the wall, propelling himself off of it on one large foot, leaping up to grasp the railing in both hands, then pulling himself over it in a graceful split kick onto the level above. "With moves like that, you could be one of the dancers, Mikey!" he hollered after the turtle's agile display. "Though you wouldn't be gettin' no lap dance with me!"

"What the fuck is wrong with both of you?"

Slowly, Casey turned to look back up at Raphael, and Michelangelo stepped back over to the railing, placing one three-fingered hand upon it, leaning over to stare apprehensively at his brother.

Raphael still stood halfway up the staircase, jacket unzipped to reveal his plastron, leather pants slung loose around his waist. His shoulders were back, hands in tight fists by his sides and he was glaring at both of them with a look of furious frustration, mouth curled slightly to reveal gritted teeth.

"Jeez, Raph, lighten up," Casey said. "Ya weren't so uptight last time we tried."

Raphael snorted and began stomping back down the stairs, his motorcycle boots echoing on the stone. "I was eighteen. I was a dumb fuckin' kid."

"Woah, wait!" Michelangelo interrupted them, leaning on the railing. "You tried to go to a strip club already, Raph?"

"Yeah," Casey chuffed, calling out to Mikey with a grin as Raphael pushed past him, grumbling. "We figured maybe he could wear a hockey mask, y'know it's worked other places. But turns out strip clubs get kinda tetchy about shit that covers the face. Y'know, in case you wanna rough up one of the girls or rob the place."

Michelangelo was staring at Casey, his face lit with fascination. "Wow. I never even thought of that. Good thing I never tried, I guess. Don't want anyone thinking I'm some psycho."

"You two are unbelievable," Raphael growled, shrugging the leather jacket from his shoulders and tossing it down on the sofa, before turning towards the kitchen. Casey glanced up at Michelangelo, who rolled his eyes again.

"What's your beef anyway?" Casey demanded as Raphael yanked the fridge door open and grabbed a soda. "This some kinda feminist statement? Ya don't wanna exploit women or somethin'?" He grinned at his pal, but Raphael just gave him a look that could blister paint. "Ah, c'mon," Casey streaked fingers through his hair. "Just come. It'll be fun."

"Yeah, Raph!" Mikey called out over the railing. "It'll be a blast. I know you like the booty big and bouncing! I seen your stash!"

Raphael spun around and threw the can savagely at the nearest wall, where it exploded and spattered soda all over the brick, hissing as it spilled. "Has that tiny brain of yours completely fried, Mike?" He shouted up at his brother. "You really think those girls are gonna wanna dance for you? Huh? You really think any single one of them is gonna walk onta that stage and see some freaky turtle mutant - alien," he spat scathingly. " - and be okay with grinding on your lap or somethin'? Do you?"

In the silence that followed, only the electronic riff of the arcade games could be heard. Raphael stood glowering between Casey and Michelangelo, his plastron heaving. Casey scuffed a boot against the cement and awkwardly scratched his neck. Michelangelo gazed down at his brother, his face a study in stricken realisation. Raphael looked from one to the other of them, his eyes blazing, fists clenched.

"They'll take one look," he continued grimly. "And wish to fuck they'd called in sick."

At once there was the whisper of wheels sliding against stone and Donatello emerged from his study, rolling backwards on his desk chair.

"Uh," he began quietly. "That's not entirely true. Actually."

As one, Raphael, Casey and Michelangelo turned around to stare at Donatello who grinned sheepishly and tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

"Well," he continued. "There's a few strip clubs across the city now that have specifically advertised they welcome alien clientele. Like. Five of them."

The other three continued to stare at him and Donatello squirmed a little beneath their gaze. "It stands to reason they wouldn't be advertising such a thing if the dancers weren't okay with it," he explained mildly. "There are hundreds of strip clubs in the city. It'd be easy enough for the girls to leave and find a new place to work if they didn't want to have alien clients. So, whoever's there must be - fairly open-minded."

Above them on the landing Michelangelo had rested his chin on his hands and was beaming down at Donatello like he had just shared the secret to eternal happiness with them.

"Donnie, you - are - a - genius!" he exclaimed, then leapt fluidly over the railing to land with a soft thud on the cement floor below. He bounded over to delightedly fling his arms around his brilliant brother. Donatello chuckled and patted him lightly on the carapace. "You are totally my hero, dude! And my favourite brother!" At this he shot a dirty little glance at Raphael, who stood by frowning with big arms folded over his plastron.

Casey rubbed his chin and swaggered away from the staircase, chuckling. "So, uh, you just happened to have this information on hand, Don, huh?" he smirked as he drew up close to Donatello's chair and rested a meaty hand on the back of it.

Donatello shucked, a coy smile edging the corner of his mouth. "I might've been doing some research. After all - you never know when this information could come in handy."

Michelangelo released his stranglehold on Donatello and stepped back, a look of grave indignation on his face. "Dude - I seriously hope you were not planning to go to a strip club without me."

Donatello gave Michelangelo a wry once-over and cocked a brow ridge. "Uh, I can't say that going to a strip club with my brother was exactly high on my 'to-do' list. But - I mean - if you guys are going now," he added carefully. "Well - I don't have any other plans for the evening." And he smiled hopefully at them.

Michelangelo was bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning to split his face. "Hell yes we're going now, bro! Get dressed and let's hit the town! Oh hey - which club? I mean, which are the clubs that have the hella-fine ladies who are totally down with giving lap dances to intergalactic tourists?"

"One sec." Donatello rolled his chair backwards into his study, from which the clacking of a keyboard could then be heard. "Ah, okay - so there's The Slipper Room - "

Casey grimaced and shook his head. "Too fuckin' arty."

"Okay, how about the Penthouse Executive - "

"Nah," Casey broke in. "Too posh. And it's in Manhattan - it'll be fifty bucks for four beers."

"Hunts Point Triangle?"

Casey guffawed. "Yeah, sure, if you wanna stick to the seats and get knifed out front."

"Next there's Hunk-O-Mania - oh wait, that's - "

"A male strip club," Casey finished impatiently. "Not my scene."

"I'm into that!" Mikey broke in, but the other two just groaned.

"We're not, Mikey," Donatello said dryly from inside his study. "Okay, last on the list - Pumps."

Casey snapped his fingers, nodded slowly. "Yeah - yeah, that place's okay actually. 'S in Brooklyn. Ain't too upscale, but ain't too much of a dive either. No cover charge. Chill. Lotsa different kindsa girls. And they play Guns N Roses. Yeah, Don," a grin slid steadily up Casey's face. "I think we got a winner!"

"All right!" Michelangelo whooped as Donatello emerged from his study, smiling. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"So, Raph," Casey turned to the turtle who continued to hulk silently to the side. "Whaddya say? You up for it?"

Michelangelo and Donatello peered at their brother who stood with his shell against the wall, arms folded, his brow heavy. Raphael's glance darted from one to the other of them, and his jaw shifted. His glower softened slightly.

Spying his brother weakening, Mikey leapt in. "Raph, come on. I know you got a stack of bills with some big-booty stripper's name all over them - you never spend your money. And what's the point of it just sitting there, doing nothing when you could be slipping it under some lacy garter with an awesome pair of tits in your face? Come on - it will be fun!"

Michelangelo declared this last with such vehemence it was clear he believed with his whole heart he could make them all to have a good night through sheer force of will. Raphael hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak.

"No one is going to a strip club."

The four of them whirled around towards the dojo, from which Leonardo strode, hands in loose fists by his side, his jaw set and his eyes steely.

He marched over, fixing each of them with a stern glare. "Are you serious? A strip club? How could any of you think that was even a remotely acceptable idea?" He came to a halt and folded his arms across his plastron, narrowing his eyes at his three brothers. "There is no way any of you are wasting your money like that. Not to mention those places are degrading towards women. It's entirely inappropriate for anyone in this family to participate in that kind of culture. I won't allow it."

"Ah, Leo, I realise you're a little out of touch with things, but we are all twenty six now," Donatello replied with no small amount of asperity, coldly eyeing his brother. "This isn't a matter of what you will 'allow'. You don't get to make those calls anymore. Outside of a mission, our decisions are our own."

"Yeah, Leo," Michelangelo leapt in passionately, flinging his arms wide. "You're not the boss of us anymore!"

"Come on now," Leonardo replied, his voice carefully even, though there was a dark undertone that signalled his temper was just being held in check. "Do you really want to go to one of those places? I mean, what would April think if she found out?"

Donatello gave him a filthy glare that indicated just how low a blow he considered that remark, then turned away, rubbing his snout. Michelangelo looked from Donatello to Leonardo, eyes wide and anxious.

"But - like - why would she have to find out? This is just guy stuff, you know. Like. Just fun. I totally love and respect women - hell, that's why I wanna go! I'm gonna tip big!" he finished earnestly.

"What April might think of the way I spend my private time and my own money is none of my concern," Donatello said stiffly. The silent not anymore hung in the air.

Casey raised a hand, head ducked. "Yeah, same here."

"Not that it was ever your concern while you were still together it seems, given your advanced familiarity with the clubs," Leonardo said coldly, giving Casey a disapproving once-over and Casey rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck.

"Hey - Leo - step off, bro. I ain't your brother and that's none of your business anyway."

"Noted," Leo replied dryly. "And you're right - your personal pursuits are none of my business. Though I do wish you would refrain from encouraging my brothers to participate in activities like these."

Raphael had been silently observing the conversation with a gritted jaw, one heel back against the bricks. Finally, he was compelled to act. He pushed off the wall, eyes blazing.

"Fuck you, Leo," he spat, then spun on his heel and strode towards the sofa where his discarded jacket was slung. "C'mon boys, get your shit together - we're outta here." He yanked his jacket up and quickly shrugged it on.

"Yesssssss!" Michelangelo cheered and bolted towards the stairs. "Gimme thirty seconds!"

Donatello sniffed and followed him, throwing Leonardo an icy glance. "Likewise."

Casey grinned. "Hey-hey, about time you came around, bro!" He held out a fist and Raphael bumped it lightly, face grim.

"Seriously, Raph?" Leonardo snapped. "You've changed your mind, just like that, because I disapprove?"

Raphael rounded on Leonardo. "No, Leo, it ain't because you 'disapprove'. It's cos you're tryin' to tell us what to do when we're all grown-ass adults and then implyin' Casey's makin' our minds up for us! Only one around here tryin' to do that is you, bro."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes at Raphael, then sighed. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it, Raphael. Have it your way."

"Don't mind if I do," Raphael said insolently, then swaggered past his brother who continued to glare at him with a tight jaw and deadly eyes. "Been awhile since I let off some steam. Watching a little flesh jiggle up close and personal sounds like just the ticket."

"Ugh, whatever Raph," Leonardo rolled his eyes and glanced at Casey, who stood off to the side, concertedly looking anywhere but at the two brothers, fighting a smirk off his face. "Just try not to act like pigs, if it's at all within your power."

"But how will the girls know we like 'em then?" Raphael threw back and Casey smothered a laugh with an exaggerated coughing fit.

"Nice, Raphael," Leonardo said scathingly. "I'm sure being treated like pieces of meat is what all women really want."

"Ah, c'mon Leo - " Casey stepped between them. "Ain't noone gonna be disrespectful to the ladies, you know that. Raph's just ridin' your tail."

"Even setting foot in one of those places is disrespectful, Casey," Leonardo snapped back. "Don't delude yourself otherwise."

"Ah," Casey waved a despairing hand in Leonardo's direction, then turned to follow Raphael towards the door that led to the tunnels beyond, just as Donatello and Michelangelo came trotting down the stairs, fully dressed in over-sized sweats and hoodies. "You guys ready to roll?"

Michelangelo jumped to the bottom of the stairs and snapped upright with a mock salute. "Ready and accounted for. Now let's go make it rain on some honeys!"

Donatello grinned as he stepped onto the floor, barely glancing in Leonardo's direction. "Well, now I'm glad I didn't spend all my savings on that NanoSIMS probe."

"It's a waste of money," Leonardo called after them, his arms still folded. "What are you even paying for? Feigned interest from women who wouldn't look at you twice if you were broke?"

Michelangelo sighed with loud exasperation as the group ambled towards the exit, turning to shoot his brother an incredulous look. "Boobs, bro! Like, one inch from my face!"

Raphael spun around as the others ran up the stairs that led to the lair's main door, throwing his arms out to the side. "D'ya really think we don't get that, Leo? Seriously?" he snapped, lip curled. "Give us some fuckin' credit."

Donatello and Casey didn't even bother to look back.

As Raphael turned and climbed the stairs, Michelangelo paused, then quickly ran back, leaning over the bannister to whisper loudly at Leonardo where he stood, glowering at them from the den.

"Don't worry, bro," Michelangelo hissed. "We can totally go to Hunk-O-Mania together next time!"

Leonardo just narrowed his eyes and tsked irritably. Michelangelo had already leapt away to join the others, leaving him alone and staring after them as they disappeared into the tunnels that led topside.

"Well, when you're all broke and disappointed, don't bother coming to me for a loan," he muttered, then turned towards the sofas. It wasn't that he was going to wait up for them. No way. But he might as well see what documentaries were on. Since he had the whole place to himself for once. Leonardo settled onto his favourite couch, picked up the remote control and clicked through to the menu.

Under movies, a title caught his eye: "Magic Mike". For the briefest of seconds, Leonardo's finger hesitated over the button.

A moment later, he grit his jaw and scrolled determinedly to the Discovery Channel.

A note on strip clubs: I know the concept of the guys going to a strip club may be upsetting to some who feel about clubs the way Leonardo does. As a former stripper and otherwise long-term sex worker, I will simply say that the "rightness" or "wrongness" of going to strip clubs is fairly irrelevant to me, as it is for the other women who work in the industry in order to keep a roof over our heads. Of greater concern is clients acting right, tipping big and buying dances. If you HC that the guys would never set foot in a strip club, of course you're entitled to that feeling, but this fic isn't intended as a moral stance of any kind on whether or not they should exist. I write the characters as I believe they would act, with complex feelings influenced by the culture they were exposed to, and flaws of many kinds.