Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any affiliated characters. They are the property of Nickelodeon.
Here's another prompt featuring turtle tots!
I decided to write another 2k12 one-shot, because why not? I hope you enjoy it, and please review!

Raphael stood silhouetted in the doorway, staring down his summoner. Momentarily he considered making a run for it, but he knew this meeting was inevitable. If he tried to delay any longer, his punishment would be even more severe. Besides, he wasn't afraid of anything.

"Raphael."

He jumped at the sudden utterance of his name. Alright, almost anything.

"Come," the booming voice commanded, leaving no room for argument. He hesitantly stepped through the door, sliding it shut behind him with a clack. He shuffled across the room, halting three quarters of the way.

By now, his father's room was becoming almost as familiar as his own. He had made this same trek many times before – and without a doubt would continue to in the future – and every time, it felt as if he was encountering his doom. This would be the time, surely, that Splinter would really give it to him.

He stayed a fair distance from his father, eyes focused on the obi of his father's kimono to avoid the disapproval pooling in the rat's eyes. After a number of beats, Splinter said, "Kneel, my son."

Raphael was quick to obey, landing harshly and shifting his gaze to the concrete floor. Splinter waited for what felt like an hour, and although he couldn't see him, Raphael knew that Splinter was waiting patiently to see if he would speak first. It was pointless, for Raphael never spoke first. The maneuver worked on Michelangelo, who was usually in tears at this point anyway, and Donatello, who rambled nonstop on the rare occasion he was called into his father's room for disobedience. Leonardo would usually berate himself before Splinter could even get a word in, although Mr. Perfect hardly ever got in trouble for things he did. Clenching his jaw at the thought of his older brother, Raph directed his angriest glare at the floor. It was all Leo's fault he was in trouble, and where was he? Playing with Donnie and Mikey while Raph was in Sensei's room, about to get a lecture. It was so unfair!

After a long minute, Splinter finally spoke.

"Raphael. Explain yourself."

The order was short and forward, the best approach when it came to disciplining his most aggressive child. Raphael had little patience for dancing around the subject, and his father recognized and respected this.

The eight year old shifted in his kneeling position, his eyes rising to meet his father's in a fluorescent green glare. His mouth set in an angry line, the boy presented his case with little ceremony.

"Leo wouldn't stop pickin' on me, so I clocked him right in the kisser. He deserved it, he was makin' me mad–"

"It is not your responsibility to discipline Leonardo," his father interrupted firmly, "no matter how much you believe he 'deserved it'. As for his making you angry, Raphael, you may recall that I have told you on multiple occasions that no one can force your reaction."

"But Master Splinter, the last time Leo was buggin' me, you told me to stand up for myself," the red masked turtle reminded his father. Splinter frowned at this, his son's tone reminiscent of his most mischievous son, Michelangelo. The innocent, genuine way that Michelangelo rebuked his father's statements was so barefaced and honest that the rat almost always found himself reconsidering his position. Too often, Splinter caught himself prepared to pardon Michelangelo before he had been punished. Clearly, Raphael was taking cues from his younger brother.

"Punching your brother does not count as standing up for yourself," Splinter responded, taking a few steps toward his son. "Reacting in a violent manner to Leonardo's teasing is unacceptable, no matter what he said to you."

"But Sensei, he said I was never gonna grow!" Raphael cried, his expression of indignant defiance crumbling to reveal the insecure face of a hurt child. The shift was so sudden, as all of Raphael's changes in moods were, that Splinter found his heart aching for his son. The young turtle, who displayed a tough as nails attitude to his brothers, was very emotional and easily wounded, taking careless words to heart. He pretended to not care or covered up his hurt with a mask of hardened rage to push others away so they wouldn't see the emotional wounds he nursed.

His voice gentler, Master Splinter assured Raphael, "That is not true. You are all still growing."

But the child was adamant. "No, Leo said that I'm always gonna be a little squirt, cuz I have a crack in my shell!" Nearly beside himself, he continued, "He-he said even Mikey is gonna be bigger than me!"

Raphael had always been insecure about the crack in his shell, fearing that it made him look like a weakling. Although Raphael tried not to let on how much it bothered him – Mikey would have a field day if that became common knowledge – Splinter would sometimes catch his son fingering the crack, frowning at it contemptuously.

"Is it true, dad?" His voice was so close to a whisper the rat almost missed it the first time. "Am I always gonna be a little squirt?"

Splinter reached out a paw to comfort the child but Raphael curled into himself, stubbornly refusing his father's comfort even when he was in need of some reassurance. The rat Master thought for a moment, then gracefully knelt before Raphael, staying just outside his personal space.

"Raphael, do you know what a bamboo tree is?" Master Splinter asked, his sharp eyes scanning his child's face for recognition.

"Yeah," the young turtle responded haltingly, rocking forward on his knees and looking up at his father expectantly.

Splinter reached out a paw and let it hover about an inch from the floor. His focus on Raphael's face, he began, "As you know, a seed must be planted for the tree to grow. What does a seed need to grow?"

Raphael's face scrunched in thought and he responded hesitantly, "You have to water it, protect it from the cold and give it enough sunlight."

A smile stretched Splinter's muzzle as he replied, "Very good, my son. After the tree is planted, there is a long period of waiting. The tree doesn't grow the first year. It does not grow the second, third, or fourth year either. But during the fifth year, the bamboo tree grows one hundred meters."

To illustrate his statement, Splinter's paw rocketed skyward until it was above his head and Raphael had to crane his neck to see it.

When he finally spoke, Raphael sounded cautiously hopeful. "So, are you saying I'm gonna grow? Maybe even taller than Leo?"

Splinter's whiskers twitched in amusement and he replied cryptically, "Only time will tell, Raphael."

"Thanks, dad!" Raphael chirped, leaping to his feet and starting toward the door. He froze at his father's voice.

"You have not yet received your punishment, Raphael," his father reminded him patiently.

Raphael cringed in response, slowly pivoting to face his Sensei. With a weary sigh, his shoulders fell, accepting defeat.

"I was afraid you were gonna say that," the young turtle muttered.

"Bullshit."

Raphael glared defiantly at Donatello, painfully aware that he had to raise his chin to look him in the eye. The head's height Donatello had on Raphael did little to quell his brother's bubbling anger, and the pint-sized turtle straightened to close the gap between them.

Not even close.

Donatello was accustomed to Raph's language and maintained his calm countenance in the face of his brother's (almost comical) indignant rage. How he managed to contain his amusement, he didn't know, but it was imperative he not say anything to anger his brother while he was so close to Donatello's delicate lab machinery. He was still mourning the loss of his centrifuge.

Keeping his tone light and detached, Donatello responded, "I'm sorry Raph, but from what I understand of your physiology, you only have another couple of inches left to grow."

"But that'll make me shorter than Mikey!" Raphael growled, unable to believe what he was hearing. That bamboo story of Sensei's was a load of bunk!

Donatello frowned thoughtfully, trying to come up with a response to Raphael's statement. Although Raphael would deny it, Donatello saw the self-consciousness beneath his mask of rage. Irrational as it was, Raphael worried that being the shortest meant he would be unable to protect his brothers and would lose his position as the muscle. The last thing Raphael wanted was to have what he believed to be his sole contribution to the team taken away from him, despite the fact his brothers looked up to and appreciated Raphael for his various talents and qualities. Raphael had killer instincts, unparalleled hand-to-hand combat skills, unrelenting determination, and a fierce level of overprotectiveness. None of this went unnoticed by his brothers.

Unfortunately, this meant nothing to Raph. Experience had taught Donatello that his encouragement and praises could not penetrate his brother's thick skull. Raphael would shoot down every compliment and reassurance Donatello gave with the speed and intensity of a machine gun. There was only one available tactic.

"Look on the bright side, Raph," Don said, draping an arm over Raphael's shoulders and ignoring his growl. "At least you'll be taller than Leo."

"Really?" Raphael demanded, his eyes wide. After his initial surprise, Raphael's lips quirked into a smirk.

"Well, isn't that rich." Raphael bared his teeth, his green eyes glinting with mischief.

A prick of fear started within Donatello's chest, blooming into an icy cold grip that encompassed his entire torso. And rightly so; when Raphael caused mischief, all hell broke loose.

Before Donatello could retract his statement and avoid the impending disaster, Raphael reached up to rub his head affectionately and said, "Thanks, Donnie!"

Without a backward glance, Raphael bounced out the door, calling, "Hey, Leo! Guess what Donnie just told me…"

The maniacal cackled that followed made the fear spread through Donatello's entire body. All he could do was stand momentarily frozen, gaping at the door as the gravity of his error fully sunk in.

"What destructive force have I unleashed on the lair?" Donatello asked the thin air, his voice cracking mid-phrase. A shout from the pit and a loud crash were his response.

From now on, all physical exam results would be private.

Raphael is adorable when he's angry and no one can convince me otherwise. Also, big bros that are shorter than their little bros is so cute!