First, a quick thank you to my mom and her brothers for the entertaining and inspiring stories of their childhoods. In particular, I'd like to thank them for one with my great-grandmother, a bottle of scotch, and time for tea and cookies.

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter © Viacom
story © Turtlefreak121

Bubbly

He looked around toward his brothers, both shocked and irritated by their lack of vision. His plan was undeniably sound and the fact that they were reluctant despite this point only contributed to his growing anger.

"We'll get in so much trouble," whispered Donatello with great caution.

"If we get caught," reminded Raphael.

"Master Splinter would not be pleased," stubbornly protested Leonardo.

"If we get caught," repeated the master of the plot.

"Do you think we'll get caught?" Michelangelo, nearly persuaded, questioned.

Raphael confidently shook his head. They couldn't be caught because his plan was perfect. Couldn't they see as much? "No, just trust me," he told them.

"Why are we doing this anyway?" Leonardo questioned, skeptical but curious. It was that curiosity that Raphael was banking on.

"Because we're almost teenagers now," Raphael retorted. "And we'll do it eventually anyway. Master Splinter's been waiting for it."

Silently the unconvinced caved.

________________________________________

In truth, Raphael could not have been more pleased with his brothers' decision.

He had expected as much; his ability to read the members of his family had been unusually increased as he advanced through twelve and onward toward the glamorous age of thirteen. He could see that his brothers were as curious as he was and while trouble was a great possibility Raphael would not allow the thought to ruin his vision.

Just as he had detailed in his plan to his brother, Raphael acted swiftly.

It had been the mischievous turtle's turn to aid Master Splinter in preparing the evening tea.

The ritual was rigid, a tradition which the master had carried on from his master. Each of the four boys had learned how to assist in preparation and the procedures which followed afterward. Raphael knew that he would be distributing the tea.

The purpose of the evening tea was to provide honor.

What it did was provide Raphael with an opportunity.

Michelangelo, feigning an injury, was rushed into the kitchen nearly at the same time that Splinter and Raphael began to pour the tea. Donatello and Leonardo, after lifting the injured turtle into a chair, waited for the wheels to begin turning.
And they did.

Alarmed, their father glanced to them as Donatello opened the cabinet. "What has happened?" he asked before handing Raphael the kettle.

Knowingly, Raphael continued pouring as Donatello quickly ducked to Michelangelo's side. Donatello opened the rubbing alcohol bottle and dabbed a cotton ball, the closed bottle of sake was slid to Leonardo who had also bent to look at Michelangelo's bleeding, scabbed up knee.

"I-I fell," the younger turtle stuttered.

Raphael flinched. He knew that their master would never have fallen for that. Fortunately, so did Leonardo.

"We were sparring, Sensei," the ordinarily responsible brother spoke up. "I flipped him off the mats."

All went quiet, awaiting Splinter's reaction. This would determine how the rest of the plan would go.

"I realize it is new, Michelangelo," Master began before kneeling between Donatello and Leonardo to examine the knee, "but you must press yourself to remember your kneepads from this time forth. Just such occasions were why I have given them to you and your brothers."

They released their breaths, glancing about to one another. It had been too close of a call.

Close but they were clear to continue.

Raphael poured for the five available cups and settled the kettle down quietly. He glared at his brother who held the remaining ingredient. It was a look that his brother returned angrily, defiantly. He was treating it like his last chance to make things right.

But they had gone too far already.

Leonardo reluctantly slid the bottle toward Raphael who eagerly opened it and poured its contents into the four smaller tea cups. A grin formed on his face and he smelt the fermented liquid proudly. It was a perfect plan for he and his brothers to finally get a taste of their master's sake.

Ingenious.

"There, you shall be fine, Michelangelo," Splinter sighed before straightening up, taking the rubbing alcohol bottle to the cabinet and carefully putting it in its place. He shut the cabinet door. "The three of you should settle for evening tea."

"Yes, sensei," they replied before racing out, their feet pounding against the surface nearly as hard as their hearts beat in their chests.

Raphael swallowed and continued to perform his activities, now attempting to remember what his plan was for ridding himself of the empty bottle of sake. His master would surely find him red handed soon if he did not think.

"Raphael, please wash your hands and place the remaining tea on the stove for a moment as I set the tea table."

The master left and Raphael could not believe his dumb luck. He had not so much as glanced at him.

Not wasting the precious gift, Raphael raced to the cabinet and shoved the empty bottle in its rightful spot. He would deal with it later if he was to deal with it at all. He sighed with relief before doing as he was told.

Everything had worked out.
Why did Raphael have a terrible feeling that something terribly wrong was still waiting to happen?

________________________________________

Uneasy, Raphael took his spot beside Master Splinter as the tea server. After going through the motions, most of which he botched in his nervousness, he began to hand out the cups of tea to his brothers.

Not a one of them could lose their wide, knowing grin for long. Raphael wished he could join them.

He watched as they glanced nervously to Splinter, not wishing to act suspicious, before looking down, hiding the broad smiles on their faces. They had never pulled something off quite like this before.

Once the last tea cup was given, Raphael handed the largest to Splinter and began to take the smallest for his own. He looked at the tea and his brow furrowed. Perhaps it was the overwhelming smell of the incense or the tea itself, but this did not smell like the strong alcohol he smelled before.

Splinter cleared his throat, drawing the pre-teen's attention to him.

"Have you forgotten something, my son?" Splinter questioned curiously before tipping his ear to the side. "You have not exchanged cups with me."

Everyone froze.

Raphael's plan had been perfect with the exception of the new step which their master had been teaching them. As the main server it was Raphael's turn to have the head cup, symbolic of the faith the head of their house had in him.

It suddenly caused Raphael to feel incredibly sick as he offered the tainted tea to his master and received the larger but gravely different tea for himself.

His three brothers stared at him, unsure of what to do.

Splinter stared expectantly at Raphael. He knew.

"Let's… drink then," Raphael muttered lowly.

The family hesitated with the exception of Splinter. Their master drank gracefully but quickly from his cup and the action urged the others to follow suit.

Raphael felt as though he was going to vomit. The prank had gone wrong, terribly wrong. Perhaps Splinter didn't know after all. He drank as though he hadn't but the sense of knowing was a strong aura around him.

Minutes into the quiet and reflective ceremony came the first giggle.

Splinter did not look in the direction of Michelangelo's fit but remained rigid and quiet. Raphael could not bring himself to look at anything but his knees.

The giggle fit Michelangelo experienced turned into a light headed bounce, knocking him into Donatello.

Don was not pleased at first, shoving Mike aside and wishing he would not be so obvious about his condition. His eyes longed for such a reaction, however, and, soon enough, after a few more sips of his tea, Donatello began to tip back and forth as well.

The two pointed at Leonardo, finding something on his character oddly humorous.

Leonardo seemed dazed, leaning back and breathing slowly. The giggles, however, were too much for him to ignore and soon he became involved as well.

Jealous, Raphael folded his arms, glaring at the regular tea and then back to his brothers. His eyes shifted carefully to his master, however, and found, oddly enough, there was no reaction from him.

He simply stared at the three giggling turtles and sighed.

"Master Splinter," Raphael whispered, "are you not feeling any different?"

The rat looked to his student and shook his head. "If you are asking whether or not I am drunk, Raphael, I am not."

Raphael felt his heart stop. So the master did know.

"How did you know?" Raphael asked, sour that his plan had faltered. His gaze shifted from time to time to bumbling, giggling brothers who appeared to be having too much fun with their condition, taunting him.

"I noticed when I replaced the rubbing alcohol that my private bottle was missing," Splinter explained quietly. "Then the smell of my sake from the tea was also an obvious sign. I simply switched the cups to prevent any mishaps."

Raphael's face dropped and he looked to his brothers. They howled with supposedly induced laughter.

"You mean—"

"No, Raphael, they are not drunk," Splinter chuckled as he sipped his tea. "But I shall let you tell them such later after you explain to them how you are all grounded."

…