*The following oneshot doesn't take place in my normal fictional realm, or anyone else's for that matter. It doesn't adhere to usual fanfiction rules or fit within my regular box of creativity. A good friend of mine asked if I could write a little fic for her birthday, and this resulted. It isn't what she asked for, but I'll probably get around to it at some point, Tonya. ;)

I do not own the turtles, Facebook, iTunes, iPod, or William Shatner. I do not own several of the authors or stories alluded to within, but I will give them proper credit at the end. If you find the following confusing...you'll probably have to get in line.

Thanks for reading.

Donatello slowly scanned down the Internet fan page dedicated to him and his brothers, lingering for a few seconds on a sketch depicting him working on a car engine. Tammy's work was flattering enough that he would print it out, if he didn't know the other guys would never let him hear the end of it. At least, I can't print it with Raph standing over my shoulder.

Raphael's angry huff made Donny tense. His lab was the absolute worst place for his hot-tempered brother to fly into a rage. The purple-masked turtle swiveled in his chair, but stayed protectively between his monitor and Raphael.

"Is there something else I can help you with, Raph?"

The red-masked turtle glared at him while he flung pages down on the desk. "This can't be it, Donny! You gotta be missing something on Sarah's computer."

Don swallowed indignation over the accusation. "I gathered all of her recent work, Raph."

"No, there's something else!" Raphael's fist struck the edge of the desk to emphasize his point.

"If she has more material, it's not on the computer," Don replied calmly. "I've checked from top to bottom. What would you like me to do? Take a fieldtrip and search her bedroom?"

"None of this makes sense, Genius! Who is this bum she's dumping us for?"

Donatello's eye-ridges rose. "You sound like you're jealous of Ronan."

Raphael shoved the papers so that they scattered to the floor. "Jealous of what? Some broken down idiot who can barely handle himself in a fight?"

Donny rose to his feet. "I think you've been cooped up in my lab long enough. It's time to find something else to do."

"Why didn't I think of that? Because there isn't anything else to do! I'm bored outta my shell, Donny. I was counting on getting something good off your spyware—"

The purple-masked turtle cleared his throat loudly. "I abhor that term."

"Well, what do you call it?"

Donatello squirmed uncomfortably. "I have to stay informed somehow. It's not like I enjoy prying into the writer's private lives—"

"'Cause they never mess with ours?" Raph offered sarcastically.

Don sighed. "I don't know what you're so upset about. Hacked just finished up, so that can't be stressing you out anymore. Finding Balance ended particularly well for you, I thought." He gave his brother a sly smile, but it didn't improve Raphael's countenance.

"That's what I'm talking about, Donny! These authors screw with our lives for weeks, months, years at a time! Then one day they're done, and we're stuck sitting around waiting for what comes next."

"Do you have something against downtime?"

"Says the guy who spends almost every waking moment working."

"No I don't, Raph."

"Yeah, Genius? When's the last time you had some real fun?"

Donny chuckled softly. "Give me some credit, bro. I've been known to mess with the authors too."

"Such as?"

"I caught Sarah moving around a bunch of music files a couple weeks ago, consolidating everything in a single folder. I picked off her iTunes library and hid it somewhere really obscure."

"So?"

"So when iTunes can't locate the original source of the music, none of it will play. Not the stuff she added manually or any of the 450 songs she'd purchased. All gone. It was beautiful."

Raphael snorted. "She really freaked out the time I threatened her iPod. I think that's a just punishment for her. How long's it gonna take her to find the library?"

"I already pulled it up in a search for her. I watched her scramble through files for half an hour, and I couldn't take it anymore."

"30 minutes? That's your big revenge? You've got so much to learn, Genius."

Donny folded his arms. "Well sure, it's not on the same level as setting a microwave on fire."

Raphael glanced right and left and spoke in a lower tone. "I told you I didn't expect that to happen!"

"You're lucky you didn't burn Mikell's house down. I noticed you didn't stick around to explain anything to her."

"Would you? These ladies don't need any more ammunition to use against us!"

Donny took advantage of the defensive moment to steer Raphael toward the door. "Let's find Mikey. He always has a knack for entertaining us."

"You ain't seen him today, have you?" The red-masked turtle led the way into the living room, where they were met by the sight of Michelangelo hanging upside down on the couch.

Don cocked his head. "Mike? What are you doing?"

"Bored." Mike's monotone answer was slightly disturbing.

"Would you like to sit up for a minute?" Donatello encouraged.

"Donny, I'm bored." Mike's voice rose in volume. "Why can't we go to the surface?"

"Polar Vortex," he filled in automatically. "When the wind chill drops to thirty below, it's too dangerous for us to spend much time outside."

"Whoever heard of a Polar Vortex? Before this year it was plain cold. Now it's Polar Vortex this, Polar Vortex that. Where did it suddenly come from?" Mike whined.

"It originates from a band of low pressure Arctic air that normally centers around the North Pole. But as in the case of this week, a high pressure system out of Canada pushed the jet stream and a portion of the Polar Vortex farther south."

Michelangelo blinked slowly, leaving Donatello unsure of how much he'd absorbed. "What I'm hearing is, this is all Canada's fault."

Donatello snickered. "Sarah enjoys blaming Tonya for it, but I don't think Andrea's been impressed with all the complaining. Then again, she knows more about cold winters than most people."

Mike whistled. "Dude, have you been hanging in the girls' locker room?"

"Spying online is more like it," Raphael jabbed.

"You're complaining I'm not doing enough!" Don protested.

"I'm complaining 'cause you're focusing on girl talk instead of important stuff, like which author has it in for us next!"

"But I have to monitor all the activity on their Facebook group to get details. Is it my fault they go all fan-girl from time to time?"

"You're supposed to be professional and tune the nonsense out," Raphael retorted.

"You don't want to hear what the girls say about you then?"

"Why would I care what a buncha chicks on the internet say?"

Donny shrugged innocently. "Emotionally constipated indeed," he muttered under his breath.

"What'd you say?"

The edge in his red-masked brother's voice wiped the smirk off Don's face. "Nothing, Raph. I'll keep digging."

"No, Donny, I'm bored!" Mike called to prevent him from leaving the room. "We gotta get back to the surface before we lose our minds."

"You're already halfway there." Raphael scoffed.

"Mike, you know it's not worth risking our lives over. How about we pick out a movie instead?" Donny suggested.

Mike flipped over off the couch and got back to his feet. "Nope. I wanna play Shatner."

"Aw, Mikey. I'm not any good at that game."

"C'mon, Donny! It'll be fun. Maybe we can even let Raphy in on the secret."

Raphael shook his head. "I don't give a rip about your stupid game."

"Mike…" Donatello was concerned about the dangerous impact the game could have on an already annoyed Raphael.

His little brother gave him a devious glance. "If you don't want to, I guess we could look at some pictures instead. I still have that one I took of you in the garage…something involving two cars and your big shell—"

"Okay, all right!" he cried to shut Michelangelo up. "I'll play."

Mike grinned. "Goody. Let's go see what Leo's up to."

Donny followed the orange-masked turtle as he casually strolled into the kitchen. A delicious smell greeted him the moment the door was opened, and he saw his oldest brother tending two skillets by the stove.

"Not bad, bro," Mike greeted Leo. "Congrats on not burning everything."

The blue-masked turtle scowled. "That's never funny, Mike. It's bad enough that you feed the lie to the authors, but you don't have to pretend here. Why do you guys give me such a hard time over cooking?"

Raphael guffawed. "It's pretty easy, Leo – especially when you play along with them."

"I faked it for Polaris once, because she was on my side!"

"It's okay, Leo," Mike tried to soothe. "Who cares if nobody thinks you can cook?"

"I mean, what kind of person can't be trusted with a microwave?!" Leonardo gave a pan a shake and brought it down with an irritated bang. A second later, he rapidly withdrew his hand with a small gasp.

"What's a matter, bro?" Raph asked. "Did'ya burn yourself?"

"Not. One. Word," Leo said through clenched teeth.

Mike punched Donatello's shoulder and motioned to Leonardo. "Shatner."

"Really?" He rolled his eyes at Mike's Cheshire smile and took a deep breath. He'd better enjoy this. "Leo! Leo, let me see it!"

Leonardo's brow furrowed at his haste. "Don, it's not that bad—"

Donatello caught him by the wrist and flattened out his hand to locate the minor redness of one finger. "Not that bad? This requires immediate intervention! The future of your finger hangs in the balance!"

"What are you talking about?" Leo tried to pull his hand back, but Don was already dragging him across the room to the sink.

"There's no time to lose!"

"What is your problem?"

Donny struggled to repress a smile, biting his lip as he turned the water on full blast.

"Don, this really isn't necessary."

"Leave your hand under the water and don't move it!" Donny renewed the intensity of his tone.

"It didn't hurt that bad. You're blowing this way out of proportion!"

Donatello poked his brother's plastron with all the graveness he could muster. "Do what I said! It's for your own good!"

"D'you need some help, Captain?" Mike's Scottish accent almost made Donny lose it.

"Get me a bowl, Mikey!" he barked. "His finger is fading fast!"

"I don't know what you two are doing, but I'm in the middle of cooking!" Leonardo finally snapped.

"Stopping the burn from spreading is our top priority!" Don bellowed. "Bring the bowl to the freezer, Mike!"

Donatello frantically loaded ice into the plastic bowl, ignoring the cubes that were strewn across the floor. He hurried back to the sink and added water to the ice, before setting the bowl carefully down.

"Now, slowly, Leo. You've got to submerge your finger."

Leo's baffled expression was truly testing his dramatic ability. "You're just messing with me, right?"

Don ignored the question and guided Leonardo's hand into the water. "You have to ice it down for a few minutes, and your finger should be saved."

"This is going to have to wait. I was in the middle of making our dinner!"

Donatello doggedly held his hand underwater. "And risk losing your entire hand?"

The blue-masked turtle looked back at Raphael, who was calmly observing them from the table. "Don't you have anything to say about all this?"

"Yeah. Something's burning."

"What?" Leo yanked his hand away from Donny and raced to the stove. He pulled a smoking pan off the burner with a cry of exasperation.

"Living up to your reputation, eh, Fearless?" Raphael ribbed.

"No way, this doesn't count!" Leo insisted. "Don flipped out over nothing!"

It was the wrong time to laugh, but when Donny caught Mike's eye, it came bubbling up anyway.

"I can't believe you two!" Leo seethed. "Now it's ruined."

"I'm sorry, Leo," Donny said honestly. "I didn't expect something to burn."

"It feels appropriate though," Mike added.

Raphael hooked an arm around the blue-masked turtle's shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Leo. We're gonna have company soon – I'll call out an order for him to bring down."

Leonardo's smoldering gaze was fixed on the other two turtles. "You two can clean every square inch of this kitchen. Don't come out until it's done."

Don nodded vigorously as they left, but then slugged Mike in the shoulder. "You're getting me in trouble!"

"I didn't tell you to ruin dinner, but it was a nice touch."

"It was an accident!"

"That was priceless, Donny. Did you see him? Leo almost took you seriously."

The purple-masked turtle couldn't help smiling again. "It was pretty good. We'd better get started making this up to him though, before we make it worse."

It had been well over an hour when Donatello ventured to glance out of the kitchen. The smell of food from the next room was distracting, but he focused on Leonardo. "Is it safe to come out yet?"

"Did you do a good job?" Leo asked testily.

"You can come inspect if you want!" Mike yelled from behind him.

The blue-masked turtle came into the kitchen and made a slow, careful circuit of the room. "Mmhm. Mmmhm."

After a long three minutes, Mike had to speak. "Do we pass?"

Leo nodded. "Okay. There's Chinese in the living room."

Michelangelo squealed like a child being released from school early and ran for the door.

Leonardo cleared his throat. "So…Raph said you doing some research today, Did you see anything on Playing Hearts?"

Donatello shook his head sadly. "Nothing from D'fuentes, sorry."

His brother's shoulders slumped slightly. "Okay."

Don reached for a package on the kitchen table. "I did find this bag of fuzzy socks under the kitchen sink. Can you explain that one?"

Leo brightened. "They're Katie's. I'm waiting for her to notice them missing."

"That game is so weird, Leo."

"Not as weird as what you and Mikey pulled."

"In my defense, I was blackmailed, and Mike was bored."

"I can't fault you completely for that, but I don't appreciate being the butt of your jokes."

"That's not what Shatner is about, Leo."

The blue-masked turtle was about to respond, but the broad figure of a dark-haired man at the door interrupted him.

"What are you guys doin'? I thought we were gonna rot our brains."

Leonardo nodded toward Casey. "Did you and Raph agree on a movie?"

"Yup, but if Donny doesn't get in here the bottomless pits will eat all the Chinese."

When they entered the living room, it seemed Casey's prediction had come true; evidenced by the empty cartons littering the coffee table. That was until the muscular man produced another bag of food from behind the couch.

He smirked at Don's relieved face. "I wouldn't really letcha starve."

"Thanks, Casey." Donatello bumped Mike, forcing him to scoot over on the couch. He happily settled in with his own carton of rice and Kung Pao Chicken, grateful to be relaxing once more.

"Let's get this movie rolling," Casey spoke up.

Raphael dropped one of his cartons long enough to search the side table to his right. "Mike? Where's the remote?"

The orange-masked turtle was at a loss for words. "Um…"

"Your shell was the last one messing with it," Raph accused. "Find it. Now."

Mike started to get to his feet, but Don stopped him with a jab in the side.

"Shatner."

Mike snorted softly. "Okay." The youngest turtle made a slow trip around the room, strangely quiet in his search. When he did speak, it was with soft anxiety. "I'm losing control. I've lost the remote. The hours passing, on and on, our boredom growing…"

A wild look entered his blue eyes as he took a knee in the middle of the room. "I'm all alone! Alone…alone…I'm losing control!"

Casey shifted nervously. "Uh, guys? I think Mikey's finally cracked."

"Just ignore it, and it'll go away," Leo instructed.

"I've lost the remote? I'm losing control!"

Even Donatello was surprised when his younger brother lunged Leonardo and wrapped himself around his knees.

"I'm losing control!"

Unfazed, Leonardo whacked him across the back of the head. "Knock it off, Mike. The remote is probably in that mess somewhere." He pointed at the trash covering the coffee table.

Michelangelo rose, lip quivering. "Thank you. Thank you, we were so far off course!"

"I…uh…okay." Casey looked over all the turtles with confusion. "Where's the DVD, Raph?"

"Over by the TV."

The man went to open the case and held up an unexpected multi-colored disc. "Raph, this ain't Die Hard."

"Oh! You found my Taylor Swift!" Mike celebrated.

Raphael put down the footrest of his recliner with a dangerous growl. "That's it." He scooped up a stuffed bear from where Mikey had been sitting on the couch.

Mike's eyes went wide. "Wait, Raph, no! Don't hurt Sundance!"

"I'm not gonna hurt your precious doodle-bear, Mikey. I'm gonna beat you with it!"

The larger turtle was off with a roar, and the smaller with a high-pitched scream.

At the loud crash behind their backs, Leonardo massaged his temples.

"Donny?"

"Yeah, Leo?"

"How long is it until Spring?"

"By my last calculations? Sometime in June."

"I was afraid of that."

*To set the record straight:

Hacked is the property of Sciencegal.

Finding Balance belongs to Faylinn Night

The term "emotionally constipated" is a favorite of Tonya's. ;)

Mikey's source of embarrassing pictures is all Feather's fault.

Polaris'05 wrote an awesome story on why Leo doesn't cook.

Playing Hearts belongs to D'fuentes.

Laughter's Tears is the source of Katie.

Raphael's hatred of Taylor Swift can be attributed to Raphfreak and Mikell.

Sundance belongs to M.D. Owens.