The night was quiet—too quiet. The only sound filling the room was the faint hum of lo-fi music from your phone, blending with the steady rhythm of your slow breathing. You were half-asleep, curled up on your side, the blankets tangled around your legs. The city lights outside flickered through your curtains, painting soft streaks of orange and blue across your skin. Everything was calm—until your window creaked open.

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, thinking it was just the wind. But then a cool breeze brushed against your cheek, followed by a low, playful whisper. “Yo, angelcakes… miss me?”

Your eyelids fluttered open lazily. You didn’t even have to look—you already knew that voice. “Mikey,” you mumbled sleepily, not even turning your head. “It’s… late.”

When you finally rolled over, there he was—Michelangelo, orange mask glowing faintly under the city light, crouched on your windowsill with that signature grin plastered across his face. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his shell scraped faintly as he climbed through the window like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I know, I know,” he said, brushing imaginary dust off his plastron. “But your boy was bored, and guess what? Donnie’s in full-on lab mode, Leo’s meditating again, and Raph’s yelling at the TV. So I thought—‘hey, why not see my favorite human?’”

You yawned, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself. “Could’ve… texted,” you mumbled drowsily.

“Nah,” Mikey said with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Texting’s for mortals. I prefer grand entrances.”

You groaned softly, half your face buried in your pillow. “You always pick the worst times…”

He chuckled and crossed the room, his footsteps light as he crouched beside your bed. “Aww, don’t be like that. You’ve been working hard. You deserve a little… Mikey-time.”

You blinked up at him sleepily. “Mikey-time?”

“Yup.” He grinned wide and held up a pizza box with a flourish. “The one and only! I brought snacks, sodas, and the perfect cure for boredom: a movie marathon with your favorite turtle.”

Your tired eyes narrowed just a bit. “You… carried pizza through the sewers again?”

He winked. “Hey, true love requires sacrifice, baby.”

You huffed out a sleepy laugh, the corners of your lips curving despite your exhaustion. Mikey noticed, of course—he always did.

“Ha! There’s that cute smile,” he said softly, before crawling onto the bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close like it was second nature.