Author's Note: I do not own the turtles. Set in the 2012 universe, an undefined amount of time before the beginning of the first season.

Once I had this idea, it wouldn't leave me in peace. So I had to write it down.

Where Someone Shouldn't Have Interfered

Donatello was carefully pouring some blue liquid into a test tube. His focus was so intense that he was unconsciously sticking his tongue out. He was looking forward to discovering what amazing properties his new mixture had. No one else had ever mixed the same components in the same way, he was certain of it. It was partly because scientists rarely used sewer ooze in their experiments, and partly because none of the chemistry books and advanced scientific articles that he had illegally downloaded on his computer reported it or anything like it.

Donatello smiled fondly. He had taken great pleasure in reading those books and articles, sometimes in the middle of the night, huddled under his comfy quilt. However, he would have to find a way to make said quilt opaque – his father hadn't been too happy about his pastime when he had caught him because of the suspicious light it emitted. As if three in the morning wasn't an appropriate time for expanding one's knowledge. Donatello shook his head at the absurdity of his father's view on the topic.

There – this delicate task was almost performed. What was he going to begin with? Maybe spread it on one of his cell cultures, see if it was biologically dangerous. Or maybe…

"Boo!"

Donatello jumped, spilling some of his precious mixture on his lab's floor.

"Mikey!" He roared. "How many times have I told you not to disturb me when I'm in the middle of an experiment?"

The incriminated brother grinned despite Donatello's furious glare.

"I don't know, Donnie. How many?"

"Seventy-three times this week," Donatello went on. "This could be dangerous. You don't even know what's in this test tube! What if it is poisonous to orange-clad turtles?"

Donatello suddenly leaned to shake his tube in front of his brother, careful not to spill any more of the liquid.

"Maybe a drop of it would be enough to send you into a catatonic state!" He said menacingly.

Michelangelo's eyes widened and he retreated with a sheepish grin.

"Noooo, I don't think so, brother mine. See?"

The orange-clad turtle happily waved his left hand.

"Some of it dropped on my skin and I'm still feeling awesome!"

Donatello's mouth dropped.

"What?"

He hurriedly put his test tube away and caught his brother's hand, inspecting it closely. There it was, a drop of blue liquid. Donatello wiped it with a clean cloth.

"Are you sure that you're feeling okay?"

Michelangelo's eyes gleamed.

"Now that you're talking about it…"

"What is it, Mikey?" Donatello anxiously asked the orange-clad turtle. "Are you feeling dizzy? Does it itch? Do you have a headache?"

"Well, I…"

"Tell me!" Donatello was begging now. Michelangelo shot him a trademark smile.

"I think I'm hungry!"

Donatello looked at his brother, speechless. Then he calmly put the cloth away and abruptly pulled Michelangelo's hand so that the orange-clad turtle crashed on the floor. Using both his legs and arms, Donatello pinned his brother to the ground.

"It's not funny," he whispered in Michelangelo's ear. It was a very threatening whisper.

"Okay, okay!" Michelangelo protested. "I apologize, you're right, I shouldn't have. You know better, O Mighty Genius. Please have mercy!"

Donatello released him. Michelangelo dusted his shell, sighing a little exaggeratedly.

"Ouch. Now I'm hurting."

Donatello rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Mikey. If you feel strange, tell me at once, okay?"

Michelangelo nodded.

"Don't worry, bro."

"Good. And now… GET OUT OF MY LAB!"

Michelangelo hurriedly retreated, his hands pressed on his ears in a desperate attempt to protect his sense of hearing.

%%%%%

Michelangelo glanced at the living room. Annoying Donatello had been fun – it always was. Now the orange-clad turtle was looking for his next victim.

And here, on the couch, sat the perfect candidate. A red-clad turtle who was half-watching a TV show and half-feeding his pet turtle Spike.

Michelangelo crept towards his unsuspecting brother. Maybe he could shout "Boo!" in his ears too? Raphael wouldn't immediately chase him, he would delicately place Spike on the couch before, giving Michelangelo a few precious seconds to run for his life.

The orange-clad turtle crept closer, and closer, and…

"Don't even think about it, Mikey."

Michelangelo pouted and jumped the back of the couch to land next to his brother.

"Not fair! How did you know I was there?"

"I'm a ninja," Raphael replied smugly. "Plus Donnie's shout betrayed that you are in prank mode."

The red-clad turtle grinned at Michelangelo, showing his teeth at the same time.

"I'm sure you weren't seriously considering pranking me?"

Michelangelo laughed nervously, ready to deny it.

"Of course I wanted to, bro," he heard himself say instead.

Raphael looked at him in disbelief.

"Can you repeat? I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I said I wanted to prank you, Raph. But it doesn't matter if it didn't work right now, I will just wait for another occasion. Maybe trap your room's door again, or…"

"Whaaaaaaat?"

Horrified, Michelangelo put his hands against his mouth to prevent himself from talking. Unfortunately for him, his muffled words were still understandable.

"…you looked so beautiful last time I mixed pink paint with your soap, I was considering doing it again…"

"You're so dead, Mikey!" Raphael roared.

Yelping, Michelangelo seized a nearby cushion and bit it. At least that way, his treacherous mouth would stop digging his grave.

However, he had lost precious seconds in doing so and Raphael had already put Spike away. Now his red-clad brother was launching himself at him, hands outstretched. Michelangelo tried to escape Raphael's wrath, to no avail.

"Excellent idea, this cushion," Raphael growled. "It will muffle your cries of pain."

Michelangelo made puppy-dog eyes, but Raphael wasn't looking at him.

"See, Spike?" The red-clad turtle was saying. "This is how you punish brothers who think they can prank you without suffering the consequences and… ouch! Mikey! Come back here!"

%%%%%

Donatello was taking notes in his lab notebook when he heard someone carefully open the door. He turned to see a rather beaten-looking Michelangelo, biting a red cushion with strength, tiptoe into the lab and close the door carefully.

Michelangelo released the cushion and looked at his brother with pleading eyes.

"If Raph asks, I'm not here," he said breathlessly.

Donatello tilted his head.

"And why should I grant you that?"

Michelangelo came closer and put his hands on Donatello's shoulders, shaking his brother slightly.

"Because it's your fault, bro!"

Donatello opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a threatening growl outside the door.

"Mikeyyyyyyyyyy…"

Michelangelo picked up his cushion, bit it again and threw himself under Donatello's desk.