Shells

After the incident with the sea monster, a solid two hours of April, Casey and all four turtles scrubbing, decontaminating and waxing their poor sub had ensued. Donnie had seen fit to ignore all insistence that he change the power source for the entire machine, while adding in a little snark.

"If you hate pedal power so much, why don't you try and build an alternate power source in a sewer?"

Leonardo was quite clearly reluctant to say it, but Don had anticipated the order from the way his older brother looked uncomfortably between him and the sub. Donnie rambled through some diagnostics, assuring the blue turtle that it was completely stable - not that being humped by a gigantic monster had actually damaged it to begin with - and then sat back in his chair, awaiting the words to fall from his mouth.

"... We're going to have to go back down there."

They'd been keeping an eye on the New York water supply since their first underwater encounter with the Kraang, which had levelled out nicely, but the fact still remained that the squidgy aliens did not simply live in one pineapple under the sea. Assessing just how many they had would be a great advantage in future victories, that much even Mikey understood, but the discomfort was still ever-present.

"Are you serious?," Raph had practically screeched, which would have been amusing in any other situation. "That prehistoric pervert is still swimming around down there, and still wants to get lucky with our submarine! And this thing is so pathetic it probably won't even last long enough to find all the Kraang facilities!" Donnie frowned deeply before turning to the Turtle Sub and patting her underbelly affectionately, shaking his head.

"Don't listen to him, sweetie, he wishes he could be half as elegant as you underwater!" He purposely ignored the puzzled and mildly annoyed looks he got from the others, though they should have been used to him cooing and talking to his inventions.

"Oooookay," Leo muttered, slightly disturbed. "It's the safest course of action. If we can find a way to repel the... creature... we'll be able to chart out the hot spots undetected." He looked back at his estranged brother, who turned to face him with one hand still resting on the sub's nose. "Any ideas on what might make that thing leave us alone?" Don tapped his chin thoughtfully, running through his knowledge on underwater creatures and the little he had on Kraang zoology.

"Sonic frequencies might mislead it. Like when whales talk to each other through echolocation."

"They even have different vocalisations to mean different things, right?," April chirped, eyes brightening. His eye brows raised and his smile widened, turning all his attention and praise on her.

"Exactly! How'd you know that?" She grinned and reached back to play with her pony tail, an odd little habit she'd recently picked up when she felt proud of herself.

"I've been reading up on marine animals ever since I first met you guys. How do you think I knew you guys would like having your shells scrubbed?" Casey's head snapped around to look at her with a wide grin spreading over his face, then he looked around at the boys, all of which happened to be turning slightly red and shuffling on the spot awkwardly.

"What, that's an actual thing?," he laughed. "All those gifs on the internet with the wiggling turtles-!"

"Yes, Jones, that's a thing. Can we please get back to business!," Leo snapped and turned away, folding his arms to clench both biceps. Casey lifted his hands defensively, still grinning but with a little more humility.

"Hey, no big deal! I like having my back scratched too." Donnie rolled his eyes and walked over to his work bench, pulling open a few drawers for tools and cracking open plastic crates for parts. He'd considered placing some kind of sonic emitter on the sub before, after their first encounter with the creature, but hadn't had the time or drastic need to build one. Leonardo's orders were always a perfect excuse to get lost in his projects, which everyone recognised was what was about to happen, so they quietly filed out of his lab to leave him to work.

And, of course, it didn't take Jones long to get bored and come sauntering back in to bother him.

"So how come turtles like a good shell scrubbin'?," he asked while leaning over Don's shoulder, watching with mild interest as green fingers fiddled with wires and cogs. Donatello sighed and roughly shoved him away with said shoulder, making him grunt when he caught him in the throat. He hadn't meant to do that.

"Turtles have nerves in the carapace and the plastron," he replied quietly, eyes guiltily flitting between his work and the boy rubbing his neck. "That's why we don't just use our shells as shields. It'd seriously hurt."

"Okay, but your shells have gotta be tougher than a teeny-tiny turtle's, right?" Right out of no where, Jones ran his hand right up Don's shell, then reared back as the genius suddenly lunged backwards out of his seat in surprise. "Holy sh-!" He scrambled on top of the desk behind him, staring down at the supposed ninja as he crashed to the floor. Donnie lay there, hyperventilating on the floor and staring at Casey with such a startled expression that he actually felt pretty bad. "Sorry, man, I didn't-!"

"Why would you do that?!," Donnie shrieked, and Casey gritted his teeth and scrambled off the desk to help him up. "I literally just told you how sensitive a turtle's shell is and you just-! I can't even-!"

"I'm sorry! I just thought, since you're all so mutate-y and tough that maybe your shell would be too!" He'd learnt a while back that the boys were significantly heavier than humans, so he grunted as he scooped his hands under Donnie's arms and heaved him back onto his feet. "Seriously, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

The ninja whipped around the moment he was upright, pressing his back to the nearest wall to keep his carapace as far away from Jones as possible. "You'd better not! I swear, you so much as breathe on my shell again-!"

"I won't!," the human exclaimed, raising his hands for the second time that day, trying to appear harmless to a startled mutant that had been specially trained in the art of killing people. "I swear, no touchies."

Donnie's maroon eyes narrowed at the boy, then slowly peeled away from the wall, slipping cautiously back onto his stool and leaning over his work again. Casey sighed in relief and patted his own chest; pissed off a ninja. Still breathing.

He then smirked and leaned towards the door, heel digging into the ground and getting ready to sprint. "So does that mean you guys also make that weird squeaking noise when you fuck?" Like a lightning bolt, Casey Jones shot through the lab doors with a fusillade of wrenches and hammers being hurled at his head.