A/N: This takes place when the turtles are about 5 years old.

"My sons, where is Michelangelo?" Hamato "Splinter" Yoshi asked his three oldest upon noticing the absence of their youngest sibling. Only Donatello looked away from the beckoning television to respond.

"He was in here a minute ago, but I think he went into the kitchen," he said. He cupped a hand around his mouth and spoke softly. "I think he might be sneaking a snack before dinner."

Splinter chuckled to himself, knowing this was probably true. Mikey had a knack for trying to find ways to get a little extra food into his belly whenever he got the chance. Nonetheless, his youngest would need to be punished for his gluttony if such were the case.

He sauntered into their kitchen area and sure enough the refrigerator door was swung wide open. From the other side of the counter, he could not see anyone in front of it, but could hear the sound of ever-so-subtle movement. Sure enough, there sat a five-year-old Michelangelo with a plate of algae in his lap. Splinter silently observed his son for a brief moment, only to find him not eating the plate's contents, but rubbing it on his face.

He arched an eyebrow. "Michelangelo?"

Mikey jumped and whipped his head to look at his father. His mouth did not move nor make a sound, but his algae-covered face screamed guilt.

"What are you doing, my son?"

"Daddy! I-I can e'splain! I swear, I'm not eating the food..."

"I can plainly see that," Splinter replied as he approached his son and knelt down beside him. "Why are you putting the algae on your face?"

Mikey looked down at the plate and sighed. "I just...I need it."

Splinter waited for an answer, but when he got nothing but silence, he pushed further. "Need it for what?"

"I has to cover my face..."

Splinter grew concerned. "Why ever would you want to do that?"

Mikey groaned. "I don't like my freckles."

"Your freckles? My sweet, why don't you like them?" He rested a hand on Mikey's shell.

"Because they look stupid."

Splinter cocked his head. "Who says?"

"My brothers..." Mikey sighed. "They said they make me look silly."

"Well you want to know what I think?" Splinter asked as he removed the the plate from Mikey's lap and set it in the refrigerator before scooping him up and sitting him on the counter. Mikey did not reply; he only stared. "I think they are quite endearing," he said.

Mikey blinked.

Splinter chuckled. "They are cute," he clarified and pinched his cheek. "They're special."

"But you're my daddy. You has to say that..." Mikey looked at his feet dejectedly.

Splinter pulled a rag from a drawer, wet it, and began to wipe Mikey's face and hands clean. "You do not understand, Michelangelo. Your freckles are very special. Don't you know what they are?"

"Spots on my face?"

Splinter chuckled. "No my son, they are much more than that. They are kisses from angels."

Mikey sighed. "Now I know you're just being silly, father."

"No, I am quite serious. Before you came here, the angels gave you kisses to make you special."

Mikey shook his head. "No, they didn't. I'm not so special."

"Of course you are. All of my boys are. You all have many things about you that make you special."

"Well, Donnie's smart, Raphie's strong, and Leo...Leo's just good at everything. I'm not so special."

"Your brothers are quite skilled, yes, but you are special too. You are very compassionate and patient, and also very creative."

Mikey said nothing, so Splinter went on. "Your freckles are different, yes, but they are not a flaw. They are just a symbol of the many things that make you special. Each of your brothers has this too: Donatello has a gap where his missing tooth is. Raphael has a chip on his chest, and Leonardo may not have anything noticeable on the outside, but he has some on the inside. None of you are perfect, but you're all unique."

Mikey smiled. "Are their marks angel kisses too?"

"Yes, they are. Each of you was kissed by an angel."