Chapter Text
It’s been about 2 months (or 2 weeks?) since Mikey took a leap of faith into that magenta, marble-patterned portal and into this god-forsaken dimension that fits the kraang’s primitive nature near perfect.
The last thing he recalls from his homeworld is his brothers calling after him with more exasperation than distress, but it’s only an echo of what it was and he barely remembers it as clearly as he used to. Their anger doesn’t stand out in his mind like a glass shard anymore, so he’s grateful for that at least.
His fear of abandonment and his need for his brothers’ aid have long been relinquished in favor of survival. It helps to keep his mind off the fact that they’ve seemingly abandoned him for weeks.
He’s re-adjusted his danger senses so that the howls in the distance are more of a tracker towards food rather than a call for concern. The long-tongued worm in his hand is clammy and familiar as he squeezes its torso and swings his way across the gravity-defying islands.
Two Kraathatrogons in the distance are screeching at something unseen, their molars stretched back and split three-ways in an ear-scrilling roar. The way they bite back at each other makes it look like an animal way of bickering.
Mikey figures it out easily when he stalks them from a small island hovering above the skirmish: they’re fighting over food.
Maybe it’s the fussy way they exchange blows, a quick nick before it backs away, hissing at the other that makes him vaguely recall New York where he might see two ravens picking at each other for a rotting hotdog. His heart is reminded of the throbbing bruise left behind by nostalgia, but luckily the carnivorous worms’ screeches are enough to drown out his thoughts.
He figures he’d just wait out the fight and pick up the scraps after they’ve finished (you’d think with a mouth that wide, they’d be neater eaters) until the beasts begin a full-on wrestle and Mikey is able to spot their prey now that they’re no longer hovering over it.
A limp body lays belly-down on the ground between them. From where Mikey’s standing, he can’t make out a whole lot besides a few blurry specks of freckled, dainty gold and a wide, brown back with two large, square-like patterns.
It’s surprisingly– and sadly– not their lifelessness that makes Mikey worry. There’s always a kraang-droid limb or head junked around the dimension here and there that’s easily mistaken for a horrifying imitation of a decapitated body. Instead, it’s the stranger’s bizarre skin of a dark kelp green that really gives him a run.
There’s no green in Dimension X. That’s one of the first few things he discovered when he landed, given his inability to camouflage well in the environment. It’s mostly a splash of sickish-ly irradiant pinks and purples that can seriously be nauseating, even to him– and he’s pretty tolerant. If not that, then there’s a few speckles of whites and occasionally some blues.
But there’s never been anything solid green.
So odds are that body is either a very sickly human, a very large piece of seaweed, or something in between.
Mikey weighs his options and decides his curiosity is best left fulfilled than unchecked. The thing's either living or it's food, and either way, score! So, while the Kraathatrogons have their back turned on them, Mikey slings his down to the rock-formation and snatches the new stranger up, swinging back towards another island floating by. The worms are none the wiser by the time they’re about a few meters away.
The body in his arms moans quietly, and he looks back to check on him.
He’s already put two and two together and realized the body was not food, so booo. However, the green, scaly skin and hard, lumpy back with the texture of a rough seashell almost makes him double back until he comes to terms with the fact that he’s holding at another mutant turtle. So… yay?
The turtle has a short, round face covered in golden dots that continues down the rest of his limbs and any other exposed part of his body. His shell-like chest and stomach are decorated in lively stickers and his legs and arms are encased in a dark gray wrapping, ending on his joints with elbow and knee guards.
Around his head is a pretty spectacular orange mask, a bit battle torn around the edges from overuse and experience and he’s covered in some nasty, but not life-threatening, scrapes– it’s honestly a miracle he’s survived thus far, considering he literally got mauled by not one, but two giant, man-eating aliens.
In this place where everything just seems to click in a way that he’s never known back on Earth, even Michelangelo can figure out that the turtle in his arms is probably some counterpart from another dimension. Even as a mutant ninja, it’s not even the strangest sight anymore. I mean, you have more than four inter-dimensional experiences, and what do you expect?
The kid begins to squirm around as consciousness tingles back and his eyes start fluttering open. He looks just about ready to get up by himself until he flinches back and shuts his eyes tight once more, probably in retaliation to the revoltingly vivid colors.
“Aaughh… too… bright!” he hisses, shielding his face with his hands.
Mikey lets him roll out of his arms where he begins rocking side to side like he’s literally allergic to the light, and it’s so amusing to watch that it almost makes him laugh for the first time in about a month.
When the littler turtle finishes somehow rubbing the saturation out of his eyes, he sits up and his gaze immediately falls on Mikey.
He stills for a moment and Mikey wonders if he just accidentally paralyzed the poor guy. After a few silence seconds, he feels inclined to wave a small hand, which actually seems to do wonders because the kid suddenly pounces up like a cat against water and all but sprints to anywhere away from him.
And now that Mikey thinks about it, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring a disoriented, unconscious person to a literal floating island, because the kid’s not looking where he’s going and he’s about to run himself to the afterlife.
“Ah– Wait! Look out!” he shouts, lunging out to catch the other’s arm before he goes tumbling off the edge. His small, thin leg dangles helplessly over an infinite drop, a few pebbles he’s kicked during his pursuit falling over and down to into the abyss.
When Mikey’s pulled him back over to safety, his counterpart is looking at him with something in between awe and bewilderment, but somehow he’s calmer than before.
“Hi.” he says in a voice too young. His fingers find each other and he begins working them together nervously, but he keeps his wide gaze on the turtle in front of him.
“Yo.” Mikey returns lazily. He flashes an easy smile and begins scratching at an itchy spot on his neck.
The kid looks a bit frightened (duh) and can’t seem to answer in earnest so instead, he negotiates for a shaky smile in response. He’s about to say something else but it seems his throat has caught up in his shell. He opens his mouth again and again, but he’s too shaken to get the result he wants.
Mikey asks for both of them. “Got a name, lil’ man?”
“..Michelangelo Hamato. Mikey for short.”
“Sick.”
“And your’s?”
Before Mikey can open his mouth with the most obvious answer that any normal person would say, he gets the most maniacal idea because he’s always been a prankster at heart and has been deprived of some victims to drive out of sanity.
He tries not to let his grin widen as he puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pretty heroic pose, forcing his smile into something stoic and neutral.
“I’m so glad you asked!” he says in a deepened voice, “People call me–”
He’s sure to get a laugh out of this one later.
“It wasn’t funny!” Mikey barely hears other Mikey protest over the sound of his own laughter.
“It was! It really was! You were totally fooled, dude!” the older kicks over onto his shell and begins rocking as he tries to catch his breath.
Other Mikey has a huge pout on his face, but it’s without heat and it looks like it could break into a smile at any minute. “I thought your name was 'the Holy Chalupa' for 3 hours! You almost had me worship you!” He wiggles his fingers for effect.
“Sorry, sorry!” he gasps between laughs, “I just– I just wanted to see how far it could go!”
“I took a vow. I gave offerings!” He interlocks his fingers and leans toward him, taking on a pair of astounding pity-eyes that Mikey really couldn’t decipher as genuine or a farce, “You were my idol.”
“Just admit it, lil’ me. You were totally and utterly duped by the renowned Dr. Prankenstein.”
He gives his younger a quick flick to the forehead and figures he pressed the right button because other Mikey breaks his facade and starts giggling uncontrollably.
“Nuh-uh.” he denies despite being near tears from a growing cackle.
“Yuh-huh!” Mikey reaches over and hooks his arm around other Mikey’s neck, using his free hand to noogie his head just like how his brothers do. “Admit it!”
Other Mikey squeals delightfully, grabbing the arm around him and attempting to squirm out of his trap. “Ow, ow, ow! Mercy, mercy, I yield! I admit it!”
Mikey lets him go. “Works every time.” he affirms as if he’s never been a victim to the ruse before.
He takes a quick swing of his worm juice as other Mikey lets his laughter die and leans back on his hands, admiring the view.
They’d been on the move for the past hour and ended up settling on a smaller rock formation that floated a bit higher than everything else, giving them a pretty remarkable sky to look at. It would’ve looked like an oil painting if the colors weren’t so glitzy and the supernatural terrors were a bit less repulsive. Guess you couldn’t be picky in alien dimensions.
They sit side by side along the edge, their legs hanging over and a dangerously anticipant feeling tingles at their feet just like how it feels when they sit and watch sunsets over their city. They settle into a companionable silence and the world stills because it's like they have all the time in the universe and neither seems ready to break it.
“Soo,” other Mikey starts after a few moments, doing that little sing-song voice that he seems to love, “What should I call you then? Y’know, since we can’t both be Michelangelo.”
He’s thoughtful for a moment. He really was gonna give a serious answer at first, but a few seconds of sincere thinking is all he can muster on a good day so it doesn’t really come through.
“Well, you could keep calling me the Holy–”
“No. Absolutely not. ‘Holy Chalupa’ is off the table. Banned. Forbidden. Taboo. You’ve forever traumatized me and I shall never forgive you.” he crosses his arms and exaggerates an angry face, making Mikey snicker. “Maybe I could be Micheal and you could be Mikey?”
“Lame.” Mikey blows off, flapping a hand to accentuate his point. “We need something original. Something outrageous. Something that screams–” he opens his arms real wide with a grand sparkle, “–Michelangelo.”
Other Mikey attempts to look unamused but his glow is reflected in his eyes and he’s mirroring his own excitement almost perfectly. Mikey thinks internally how only a turtle exactly like him could get this excited about a nickname and his smile widens more somehow.
He’s never shared this kind of childish passion with any of his brothers. It fills him to the brim with a sense of– understanding? Compatibility? He’s not quite sure but it’s new and it's marvelous because for the first time, someone knows him and doesn’t take it for granted.
“So like big Mike an’ little Mike?” the younger gestures to himself then to Mikey as he suggests each label.
“No, bruh." Mikey shakes his head in feigned disappointment. "Outrageous, remember? Think pizza gyoza level outrageous. Plus I would be big Mikey, not you. Because I’m taller, duh.”
The smaller turtle mutters something about his spots being bigger than his freckles before bumping his shoulder and leaning against his shell.
“What do you suggest then?”
Mikey puts on a thinking face for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’m a natural at names.” he assures when his counterpart starts squirming impatiently in the silence. He brings up two fingers to his temples and squeezes his eyes real tight, willing the names to come to him, until– until– until–
He snaps his fingers.
Bingo!
“How about Tango and Crush.”
He internally applauds himself at his geniusness and pretends he’s getting cheered by an invisible crowd, throwing his hands up and saying thank you, thank you.
When he’s finished basking in fabricated attention and realizes he hasn't heard a response, he looks up at other Mikey who’s staring at him with a blank expression.
“...y’know? Like 'tango orange’ and ‘orange crush’? The drinks? Ya’ get it??”
“Man, when you said outrageous, I thought you meant rad, not wack.”
“Huh– wha– They are rad!” he sputters, a little offended.
“No one is going to understand the reference!”
“You understood!”
“Yeah, because we’re the ones that cook, hon.” he rubs his hand on Mikey’s shoulder apologetically.
“It can be our own little thing! Please, Angelo? I nearly busted a cell thinkin’ them up. It’d be a waste! Can we please, please use them? Pretty please?”
He takes advantage of a Michelangelo’s weakness for guilt and uses the pleading-puppy-eyes, a trademarked weapon of pretty much all younger brother turtles of the multiverse. He sees other Mikey’s expression shift from uncertainty to sympathy and is innerly grateful that the eyes(™) are a Mikey-exclusive only, otherwise their older brothers would be pushing them around a lot easier.
Finally, other Mikey gives. “Okay, finee. They are pretty cool. We can use them.” he says begrudgingly, to which Mikey outwardly cheers, bursting into the air like a firework. “I want Tango though!”
“You got it, bud.” Mikey– or rather Crush agrees, his face plump with a rosy grin like a child's when they’ve successfully stolen from the cookie jar.
Tango still wants to be miffed about his loss, but can’t hide how he’s beaming as brightly as a star. He looks at his new friend and returns a springy, surefire smile, a far shadow from how Crush found him before.
“Welp, I guess that settles it.” Tango declares, offering a closed fist. “It’s nice to meet ya, Crush.”
“Back at ‘cha, Tango.” Crush gleams, bringing their knuckles together in a fist bump, an international turtle sign for camaraderie. “That reminds me– I haven’t shown you around yet. Care for an adventure?”
And the smiles that go between them are enough to rival a million suns.