Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Title: Reptilian Romance

Summary: "FROSTING IS NOT A LUBRICANT! USE THE BUTTER INSTEAD!" --A collection of OneShots featuring various slash pairings and a healthy dose of humor.

Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to TMNT or anything I might reference.

Author's Note: The sole purpose of this is to practice writing slash pairings for this fandom.

Raph/Casey [BATHROOM BUDDIES]

The door flew open and Casey shuffled in. He haphazardly kicked off his shoes before calling out: "Raph! Yo, pal! Get yer shell out here!"

"He's occupying the restroom," Leo supplied helpfully, leaning against the wall in an almost casual manner.

Raising a brow in question, the human moved to the bathroom door and knocked loudly. "Yo, Raph! You okay? Hurry up!" He paused, then raised his voice to threaten: "Don't make me come in there!"

The moment those words left his mouth, the door opened up marginally and an emerald-green hand slipped out to grasp his shirt. Without any warning, the human was forcibly yanked into the bathroom; the door was shut behind him.

Leo blinked slowly at what he witnessed, unsure of what to make of it. About to look into the matter personally, he was stopped by Mikey's distant shout of: "FROSTING IS NOT A LUBRICANT! USE THE BUTTER INSTEAD!"

Confused but unassuming, Leo moved to investigate...

Meanwhile, Casey looked at Raph, completely baffled. "Not exactly what I expected when ya yanked me inta the bathroom, buddy."

The door locked, Raph sat at the edge of the tub, head bowed low as his hands fidgeted uncomfortably over his knee pads, feeling the worn leather under his callous fingers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "'Bout freakin' on ya last night." The apology was earnest, coming from a strained voice.

"S'okay, Raph. Really. I ain't worried over it, and you shouldn't be either."

"I could've hurt ya. I wanted to. I was gonna."

"Raph, nobody got hurt. Ya got a bit upset and lashed out. Nothin' new. So, don't ya dare use that as an excuse ta pull away again. -Now, whacha doin' in the bathroom? It ain't the best place to-"

"I just needed a break," Raph confessed quietly. "Need time ta myself to sort everythin' out. Y'know?"

Casey reached over and shut the toilet lid, dropping down onto it like a makeshift seat. "Talk to me, buddy. Whatever's on yer mind, get it out in the open now, or you'll clam up and brood about it later. C'mon, talk to me... and later we can argue why Gretzky is better than Ovechkin." The snide tone and wide grin he offered berthed an infectious mirth the duo shared more often than not.

Raph returned the grin and add a roll of his eyes. "Whatever... You know as well as I do that Ovechkin is young, in his fuckin' prime, and he's well on his way ta beatin' Gretzky's record."

"Unless he takes a nasty injury. Ovie's got a lot of enemies on the ice. But we can talk about all that later, when we catch the Rangers @ Capitals game." And, there it began... The open invitation, the subtle shift as their comfortable companionship threatened to breach into a more intimate territory.

But Raph had to play it cool. Nonchalant, like he always did. And so he answered in turn: "Yeah, Case. Because Lundqvist is gonna stop all of Ovechkin's shots," the turtle shot back with a bite of sarcasm, though his mouth twitched as he fought back a smile.

And Casey jumped in, caught up in the hype of an NHL-centric convo. "Don't be puttin' down Lundqvist; they call him The King fer a reason! I mean, have ya seen some of his saves? Impressive. And- Hey, now, quit changin' the subject. Ya obviously pulled me in here fer a good reason. Now, whatever's on yer mind, spill it.'"

Raphael reached a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck as he contemplated. "If I talk to you, can it stay just between us? Like, personal shit..."

Casey lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Promise, Raph. I got a big mouth, but I know how to keep it shut."

Just then, without missing a beat, Raphael's hands, strong and sure, were surprisingly gentle as they moved in to cradle the human's head, drawing him close. Raph's hard beak met Casey's pliant lips in an unexpected and sloppy kiss that was more fumbling than passionate.

And as Raphael's heart thundered nervously in his chest, only one thought rang out through his plight of anxiety: 'Casey ain't pushin' me away...'

Chapter Text

Raph/Don [GAMES]

Leo was the leader for a reason. His knowledge of teamwork and strategy was on par. After one too many close calls on a roof-turned-battlefield, he declared that it was necessary for them gain a new understanding and appreciation for one another while he meditated with their sensei.

True to his rebellious nature, Raphael had offered a rude hand gesture before verbally refusing, but Donatello and Michelangelo were more compliant and had decided to humor the idea.

Thus, Mikey found himself in Don's room with a book in his lap and a bored expression on his face as he flipped through the pages.

"Worst... Thing... Ever," he whined dramatically, slamming a book closed and tossing it aside, uncaring as it landed on the floor. He dropped back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow. He sighed heavily, bored out of his shell. "This might as well be punishment. Donnie could've at least let me play in the lab. There's nothing to do in here!" He rolled his eyes, gaining a dramatic view of the room as it appeared to spin. He sat up once his vision came to rest on his genius brother's laptop. "Hellooooo, entertainment," he drew out, mouth forming a wide grin.

He sat up and flung himself comically out of the bed and darted over to the laptop.

He flipped it open and was greeted with a lockscreen.

His grin widened. "Time to show Mr. Einstein that he's not the only genius," he said slyly, eyes narrowing in mischievous glee. A few taps on the keyboard and the open desktop welcomed him.

...

Meanwhile, Donatello frowned in discomfort. His hands felt strange as they held the PS2 controller.

His attempt to understand his youngest brother would be ventured through a short gaming marathon- which would be perfectly fine... if he had any desire to play.

He'd been at it for almost an hour, and all he'd managed to do was clear a tutorial and die twelve different ways, four of which had been accidental suicide- because, apparently, you can collect damage on recoil, and it's surprisingly easy to blow yourself up, and- Oh, that one time he'd hit the wrong button and detonated a bomb...

Don didn't see the value in such recreational activity.

He sighed heavily, dropped the controller in his lap, and pressed his fingers to his temples to massage away an oncoming migraine.

As the purple-masked ninja stressed over the trivial vice, he couldn't be bothered to notice the watchful eyes of a certain emerald-skinned turtle. At least, he didn't notice until the familiarly gruff voice reached his ear slits, stating simply: "You ain't gonna like a game like that."

Blinking in surprise, Don turned to look over his shoulder at his red-masked sibling. "Raph? I was just-"

"Yeah, I know. Kissin' up ta Fearless, blah, blah, blah. But... you're doin' it all wrong."

Don rolled his eyes in repose and turned his attention back to the tv, where red painted the screen and tattled his demise once more. He clicked 'CONTINUE,' and tried again.

Raphael walked closer, his stride purposeful as he lessened the gap between himself and Donatello. He hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to his intelligent brother. Cracking his neck and leaning back, he stretched his arms over the back of the couch; his hand casually brushed against Don's shoulder, causing the other turtle to instinctively shy away.

"Y'know, Donnie, I meant what I said. You're doin' this all wrong. Games are fun, but ya gotta play the right ones," Raph said, spreading his legs so that his knee touched his brother's. "You ain't the violent type, so you ain't gonna like a 1st person shooter. Too much blood. Not good fer ya."

Don stole a glance at his own knee, where Raph's kneepad brushed against it. The slight distraction afforded his character to be gunned down once more. With a nervous huff, Don turned to make eye contact with his red-masked brother. "Then, what do you propose would be a more fitting game? As far as I can tell from the choices I had, this one appeared to be the most realistic, and-"

"Ya can't judge a game solely on graphics, Brainiac. Geez. Ya think anyone would bother playing the Donkey Kong if it had real chimps? Fuck no, because that's stupid as shit. Monkeys collectin' bananas. Might as well watch a documentary. Tch. Nah, ya wanna play somethin' with good gameplay and a plot that fits yer interests." Tapping Don lightly on the shoulder and then getting up, Raph moved to the stack of games and bent over to look through them. His ass and toned muscular thighs presented and on display, his tail peaked out from under his shell and wiggled enticingly. Like a worm baiting a hook.

Don's breath hitched at the view of the exposed appendage, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Ah, there we go. Perfect game fer a genius," Raph said suddenly, erecting his posture and procuring a game case. Not allowing Don a clear view of said case, he proceeded to remove the game his brother had been playing in favor of replacing it with his finding. Once finished, he reclaimed his seat next to Don.

Audio came a fraction of a second before the visual, and the screen was filled with a blue sky and clouds before an aircraft cut through and proceeded to approach a large city.

Don found himself marveling the pixilated architectural designs of the larger buildings before his knee was bumped again by Raphael's, followed by the instruction of: "Hey, this is where ya press the 'NEW GAME' option. Just hit X."

Blushing at his failure to notice the option- having been too caught up in observation- he clicked X and then redirected his focus as a noble voice began to speak of pending war and a wedding that would unite two fronts.

Then... a cutscene. A wedding. A beautiful young woman and a dashingly handsome young man, both in unique attire that spoke of royalty.

Then... destruction.

Don watched in horror as the scenes unfolded and a war broke out without prompt. The would-be groom immediately set off for battle, declaring proudly that he would defend his land and his bride.

... While the saying goes 'Love conquers all,' that battle proved otherwise.

The would-be prince, stabbed. The princess, heartbroken... but not broken. Because she would one day rise again and control a resistance army.

Thoroughly captivated, Don almost jumped in surprise as he felt Raph's arm slip around him and pull him close. Too close. Close enough that he could feel his brother's breath ghosting across his face and down his neck, giving him chills.

"Tragic, ain't it? But it gets better," Raph said with a small, knowing smile, pulling Don just a bit closer and deepening his voice in the most alluring way. "Everythin's gonna be ruined fer a while. Vicious tyrant takes over- all that shit. But then ya got this hero... A little no-name bastard who steals and exterminates rats fer a livin'. He gets himself a quick job- your first quest- and ya get inta all kinds of trouble. Ya make all kinds of friends. And ya help people. Ya do quests. Get rewards. And- now this is the part you'll like- you get to track your stats."

Unable to conceal tremble that racked his body, Don perked and turned to look at Raph after hearing the last word. "Stats?" he queried, genuinely intrigued.

Raph withdrew his arm from around Don and smirked, amused that he had so raptly captured his intelligent brother's attention. "Yeah, ya like statistics, right? Numbers? Well, any time you open your menu- with the Triangle button- you can check yer stats. There's numbers for your Attack, Defense, Dexterity, and-" he rattled it off from memory, not noticing the way Don's eyes watched him with an excitable gleam.

And Don couldn't help watching, staring, ogling. Because, yes, Raphael was his brother, but they'd always been close. And Raph had always been attractive, borderline obsessed with his own physique. And... now... Raphael had just used the word Dexterity, shortly followed by Vitality. And then talk of Percentages. And Upgrades and Levels.

Sure, it was all game-related talk, but when Raph spoke, there was a natural lilt in the already captivating accent. There was passion in his voice as he prattled on about 'spawning treasures' and- 'What was he talking about again?'

Don's eyes glazed over and he found himself nodding along almost absentmindedly, lost in his brother's voice and unable to focus on much more, let alone comprehend what was being said.

Until- "And that's when ya gotta pay attention, because the damn thing's fuckin' invisible! But there's a trick that can make it visible. Ya gotta cast a magick on yourself while ya got the 'reflect' status. Then, the magick bounces off and hits the damn thing. Then it becomes visible, and... Don? Donnie? Are you even listening?"

Blinking rapidly, Don took a moment to collect and compose himself. "I..." he trailed off, embarrassed. "I stopped listening after you mentioned the Random Number Generator," he confessed softly, lowering his head, gaze dropping. His feet suddenly looked so much more interesting than he remembered.

But Raph only chuckled in repose. "Maybe this game's too sophisticated fer ya. Maybe I should think of another one?"

Insulted at the implication of his own ignorance, Don's head shot up and he glared fiercely at his hotheaded sibling. "I'll play. And I'll beat it. I'll do all the quests, and-" his words were cut off as Raph's beak pressed against his own in a gentle semblance of a kiss.

It was brief, chaste, and Raphael pulled away entirely too soon for Don's liking.

"I'm just givin' you a hard time, Donnie," he said. "You're too stressed. Games are supposed ta be relaxin', but if it ain't, you should do somethin' else."

In response, Don mumbled something under his breath.

"What's that? Didn't hear ya."

And Don repeated, louder. "I said... I really don't care for games of this sort, but... I'd be willing to play something else."

To that, Raph grinned, eyes lighting up as if he'd hit the lottery. "Good, 'cause you've been playin' hard to get, and it's frustratin' as hell. I've been puttin' the moves on ya all week." Getting to his feet and stretching languidly, feeling his joints pop pleasantly, he turned to walk towards the kitchen; then, almost as an afterthought, Raph halted mid-way and called back: "Wait here and look pretty. I'll get Mikey. And Leo. And a bottle."

"Bottle?" Don parroted uncertainly.

"Fer Spin-the-Bottle! It's a great game. Easy. Simple. And it can lead ta some interesting situations. You like numbers? Well, crunch these numbers, Einstein. 3 out of 4 turtles play this game weekly. 90% of the time, I'm thinkin' of you when I'm suckin' face with the others. Mikey and Leo are practically an item, and it's about time you stop givin' me the cold shoulder."

Chapter Text

Donnie/Casey [I LIKE YOUR FACE]

"Alright, so you know the rules and terminology?"

"Terminology? That's a big word for you, isn't it Jones?

"Shut up and listen. Or you can sit there starin' at the screen, having no idea what's going on while I enjoy myself during the game."

"Alright, alright. Go ahead. Explain to me the wonders of hockey."

Casey Jones and Donatello Hamato. Human brawn and mutant intellect. The two were nearly opposites, save for their interest in April and their dutiful watch over the city in the hours of descending darkness. While their attempts to woo the redhead could easily drive a wedge between them, they spent far too much time on the battlefield together for that to be deemed acceptable.

Thus, the humanoid turtle was determined to find common ground. They needed to get along, to fight alongside one another without the strain of adversity.

But first, they needed to understand each other.

As the saying goes: It takes two to tango.

- Donnie's first attempt to understand Casey was to inquire the human vigilante's preferred reading material. When that was shot down with a lewd remark, the purple-masked ninja tried to offer help with homework.

The response he garnished was less than enthusiastic.

Deciding to humor the idea of getting to know one another, Casey had returned the attempt with one of his own, offering Donnie to play a 'badass RPG' with him. "It's totally got swords and maces and crossbows- and the most gnarly monsters you've ever seen!"

Don's rebuttal to the offer had been: "For a fantasy-based game, it sounds a bit mundane. Besides, I like the prospect of keeping my brain cells active, rather than frying them with-"

"Oh, quit bein' a spoil sport!" Casey paused then, eyes widening. "Sport," he repeated, mostly to himself by means of affirmation. "There's an idea..."

"Casey-"

"There's a game on tonight at seven! We'll catch he pre-game highlights and insider-looks. Then, the pre-game skate. The singin' of the anthem. Then, the puck will drop, and-"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't really-"

"C'mon, Gap-Tooth! Watch it with me! Detroit Red Wings and St Louis Blues! It'll give you a chance to see how a real man loses teeth!" With that, Casey flashed a wide smile to showcase his own missing teeth.

...And that's what brought the duo together once more.

Leaving the others at the Lair, they agreed to meet up at April's so she could implement damage control, should a confrontation arise.

-"Alright," the human teen began by way of explanation. "You see that red dotted line? Right in the middle? It's called the Dotted Line, or the Center Line."

With a slightly exasperated huff, Donnie nodded. "I could figure that one out," he said simply.

Undeterred Casey continued. "Now, on either side, there's another red line, makin' a total of three red lines. The solid ones on each side are the goal lines. They mark boundaries and- Are you even listening to me?!" Casey piped up, offended as he watched the young mutant absentmindedly fiddle with a trinket he'd pulled off the table.

"Hn? Yeah, Jones. Center Line, Goal Lines, Ice, Puck, Stick. Neanderthals..."

Casey groaned loudly. "If you can't take me seriously, how can you expect me to do the same?" He pulled his face into a scowl that quickly morphed into a childish pout as he sat back and crossed his arms.

Donatello set the trinket down and sat up straighter, taking in the young human's words with consideration. After a bit of thought, he gave a nod. "You're right. Go on." He pointed to the paper, on which Casey had crudely drawn up a hockey rink with the aid of red, blue, and black markers.

Seeing the purple-masked companion's change in attitude, Casey pointed to the paper. "Aright. See those blue lines? They're called Blue Lines."

"Not very creative," Donnie quipped slyly, expecting the other to take offense.

Surprisingly, Casey didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he grinned and responded with: "Yeah, but it doesn't need to be. Just know that everything in between the Blue Lines is neutral territory. The zone you defend is your Defensive Zone. The zone you try to score in, is your Offensive Zone."

"Sounds simple enough. I think I-" Donnie's words were cut off by Casey rapidly swatting at his knee in a jaunty and repetitive motion.

"Shhh! Shhh! Look!" He pointed to the TV screen. "Players are lining up! The official's about to drop the puck!" Not paying attention to anything but the players participating in the faceoff and the defensive men behind them, Casey gripped Donnie's leg- just above the kneepad- and squeezed lightly in a show of excitement.

Surprised and a little embarrassed at the contact, the turtle smiled shyly and redirected his focus on the television. The first thing he took note of, was the lines in the rink- just like Casey had explained. Then, as the players battled for the puck and Casey began to rattle on about positions and scoring chances, Donatello decided that maybe hockey wasn't so bad.

Then again, maybe Casey wasn't so bad either.

And maybe it was alright that Casey's hand inched its way up the turtle's thigh and had made contact with his plastron before the end of the first period.

During the Intermission Report, Casey and Don made eye contact and held each others gazes.

"So, this is hockey?" Donnie asked needlessly, swallowing hard at acknowledging how Casey's hand felt on the lower bisected plates of his plastron.

"Yeah," the human replied smoothly. "Detroit... Red... Devils... And..." he trailed off, frowning when he noticed the turtle suddenly take on a bewildered expression.

"I thought it was the Red Wings and Blues," Don said, voice soft. He glanced back to the television to confirm this, but Casey's voice drew his attention before he could draw an affirmation.

"Yeeeeah," the human drew out, finally pulling his hand away and slouching against the sofa cushions. "I just... Ehhhh. Kinda lost focus. And there's a team called the Devils. And..." He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Guess I'm just not into the game right now."

Frowning, Don turned and leaned closer. He pressed a 3-fingered hand to Casey's forehead to gauge the temperature. "Are you alright, Jones? You don't feel fevered..."

"M'fine, Donnie. Just... I-uh... Erm..." The correct words seemed to elude the young human.

Donnie waited patiently, giving his companion time to collect himself and configure a proper sentence.

The turtle wasn't sure what to expect. Whatever he could have dreamed up, it sure as shell didn't match up with what he heard.

In Casey's voice.

A confession.

"I like your face, Donnie." Scooting away as far as the sofa would allow, Case rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before amending: "Not just your face. But the rest of you too."

Donatello's face heated at the words as he sorted through them almost systematically. By the time he'd formed an opinion on the matter and prepared to deliver his response, Casey's arm shot up and the human made a wildly excited gesture as one of the teams scored.

-Donnie didn't give a proper verbal response to the remark Casey had made. But he did move to sit a little closer. And he did watch the game.

And, when their night was at an end, both agreed to catch the next game.

And Don had finalized their plans with: "It's a date."

Chapter Text

Raph/Shredder [CUDDLES]

It was improbable, damn near impossible. It was forbidden. Yet here they were. Enemies by nature. Hatred had separated them, demanded violence over all else.

But... there's a fine line between hatred and... something else. Passion in general was easily assumed or misunderstood. And when given new light, a whole new fire burns.

Raphael hadn't thought much at first, when this traitorous affair began. Back on that rooftop when he'd taken on too many Foot on his own, and failed. At the enemy's hands, he fell. Shame tore through him, but he hid it well, staring up defiantly into the eyes of the victor that would end his life.

He stared, waiting, daring the poised blade to sever his head from his neck. But when no such thing happened, he found himself torn between relief and disappointment.

Because, damn, that was anticlimactic. So much buildup, and then... nothing. But at least he was alive.

He couldn't help the confusion, nor did he bother to hide it when the young masked figure stepped away and a new one approached- this one encased in metal and covered in blades.

"Shredda!" he called out, renewed vigor surging through him, urging him to rejoin the fight.

But the armored human simply cocked his head to the side in a curious fashion, not responding to the anger-filled shout that had been directed at him. Instead, he stared, eyes roaming over the mutant whose numerous injuries kept him grounded.

Suddenly, Shredder raised a bladed gauntlet.

Raphael kept his focus, eyes trained on his enemy with the last vestiges of pride as he awaited his beheading. Or disembowelment. Or... whatever mortal end this man had in store for him. Because, he was a ninja and a warrior, and he would accept death as it came.

But... it never did come.

Instead, Shredder's raised arm swept out to the side in a grand gesture towards his soldiers as he spoke, voice loud and clear, thunderous. "You... have fought... without honor." He pointed towards Raphael's prone form.

"But, Master Shredder," one brave soldier dared to speak, "we were eradicating the turtles. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Shredder's voice raised even louder as he answered: "My feud is with the rat and anyone who stands in my way. Tonight, this turtle was not an obstacle for you to triumph over. You have breached your honor-bound contract. All of you. Dishonor is punishable by death- however... I will show mercy."

"Sir, thank you. Thank you. Thank-" The bold soldier chanted his appreciation.

"I will show mercy-" Shredder began again, tone harsh and eyes narrow, "only if this turtle wishes it."

"Wha?" Raphael barked in surprise. "I don't wish mercy on their asses! They tried ta kill me!"

Hearing those words, the armored human gave a nod and approached the nearest Foot soldier, his intentions obvious as his blades glinted in glow of the city's light.

As the seconds ticked away, the situation became hauntingly clear.

Raphael had sentenced several ninja to their deaths.

-"Wait!" the mutant shouted, just as a blade was about to make contact with a young Foot. "I, uh... changed my mind," Raph said awkwardly, gaze averted. "Killin' is wrong. Just call 'em off and leave. I'll-"

"You're injured," Shredder cut in. "Shall I escort you home?"

Raphael's expression then was priceless. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "N-No... Nice try, but I ain't showin' ya to the Lair. Fat chance, dumbass," he spat.

But Shredder only shrugged, undeterred. "Then, should I assist you to Miss O'Neil's home? Her acquaintanceship with you is not a secret, nor is the location of her residence."

Raphael narrowed his eyes at the offer. "What are ya tryin' ta pull? Actin' all... helpy."

"Helpy?" Shredder queried, an amused lilt in his tone.

"Don't question my words," Raph grunted, forcing himself up as much as he could before falling back, shell hitting and scraping a nearby wall. At this point, he was more frustrated than pained.

"Raphael- that is your name, isn't it?- I am a man of my word. My ninja have done injustice; I only wish to make amends."

"Then, go amend yerself with a lead pipe. Right up the anal canal. Twice."

Ignoring the turtle's attitude, Shredder approached, closing the gap between himself and Raph in only a few strides before offering a hand. When his offer was refused, he reached down and claimed the turtle's hand anyways.

"For now, Raphael, we have a truce. Whether you like it or not, I will not strike you when you are down. Your master is my enemy. You are not."

Raphael yanked his hand back, gritting his teeth in an attempt to hide the burst of pain that came from the simple action. "Enemies or not, we ain't exactly close enough fer you ta be holdin' my hand."

"No, but we could be."

...

That had been the first encounter. By now, they've had countless rendezvous and secret meetings, only a few of which were unintended.

By now, they've started talking.

By now, they knew everything from each other's favorite color to what they had for dinner last Tuesday.

By now, an unarmored Oroku Saki dared stretch an arm around the mutant turtle's carapace and pull him close in a manner that could only be seen as cuddling.

Successful in his endeavor, the human let out a contented sigh.

This position, however, lasted a grand total of three seconds before the turtle roughly shoved the human away and said: "Gettin' a little handsy, ain't ya? Besides, it's late. I gotta get back ta the Lair. If I don't get back soon, then-"

"Then, your Fearless Leader will be waiting with a lecture?" the human finished, an amused smile gracing his unmasked face.

Raph nodded and looked away, afraid of just how inviting that smile seemed. With a deep breath, he turned away, needing to leave the Foot headquarters he'd come to see as a second home...

He had no doubt that he'd be back soon. Right after his next fight with Leo, or the next time he lost a sparring match against Mikey.

And... maybe, by then, he'll be comfortable enough to return the cuddle.

But of course, he'd deny the activity, regardless.

Because, tough turtles like him didn't cuddle.

He man-cuddled.

Muddled?

Yeah. That sounds about right.