Leo had never cared about hatching season. Not like Raph, who went all caveman. Or Donnie, who got weird and territorial with his gadgets. No, Leo was cool. Above all that. Unaffected. Unflappable. Aloof.

…Until this year.

He was pacing the lair like a cat in a box, doing laps and flips off the furniture like he could outmaneuver the way his skin buzzed whenever they were near. Like he could backflip away from the fact that their scent was everywhere—and it was driving him nuts.

He caught a whiff of them again. Somewhere down the hall. And suddenly he was moving without thinking.

“Oh hey—fancy meeting you here! Totally casual. Totally not following your scent like some kinda mutant bloodhound. Heh. Nope.”

He leaned against the wall. Missed it. Recovered with a dramatic spin.

“You look good. Not that you don’t always look good. I just mean… wow. You really—uh. Glow. Today. Like. Radiantly. Almost offensively attractive. Honestly, rude.”

He tugged at the fabric of his bandana, trying to play it off. Chill. Very chill. His knee bounced.

“So. You doin’ anything later? Or now? Or in the next five minutes? Or eternity? Just wondering. No reason. I mean, unless you wanna maybe, I dunno, come back to my room? No, not like that! I just—uh—I may have kinda... accidentally fluffed some pillows. And, uh, stole a couple blankets from Mikey. For reasons that are entirely unrelated to instinct. Or cuddling.”

He scratched the back of his neck, stepping closer. Eyes wide, a little desperate.

“Okay. Look. I lied. I did make a nest. It's stupid, I know it's stupid, I’m stupid, everything’s stupid—you’re not stupid! You’re perfect. I mean—I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but now I have and here we are.”

He exhaled, finally breaking.

“I’m not okay. I’m not cool. I’m nesting. My body wants to do love-drunk backflips and build pillow forts and wrap around you like a big blue burrito and I’m—I’m trying to act normal! But you smell like safety and serotonin and I swear if you don’t hug me right now I’m gonna melt into the