Tea Time┆TMNT: BayLeo x FemReader

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With a smile, she got up from her chair and took his empty plate, placing it in the sink. She moved with a kind of care and thoughtfulness that hadn't left her since he arrived. When she returned, she held another plate—another helping of eggs and toast. She set it in front of him with the same gentle touch as before. "Here you go," she said quietly, her voice tender.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice much gentler now.

Leonardo finished his second helping of eggs and toast, setting the fork down with a satisfied sigh. Y/N, who had been quietly watching him from across the table, started to get up to clear the plates, but before she could move, Leonardo raised a hand gently to stop her.

"I've got it," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You should rest."

His calm assurance caught her off guard, and she hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her body sank back into the floor, the weight of the night pressing down on her. She watched him gather the plates and disappear into the kitchen, his movements fluid and purposeful. The sound of running water and the faint clinking of dishes echoed through the bakery.

Her eyes wandered across the room. Although they had done their best to clean up, the bakery was still beyond fixing. Trash bags lined the wall by the door, stuffed with broken glass, ruined cupcakes, jagged wooden parts from smashed furniture, and napkins stained with dirt and blood. The shelves were still askew, and the shattered display case caught the dim light in jagged reflections.

She sighed deeply, her chest tightening as she took it all in. This was her bakery—the dream she had poured her soul into. But now, staring at the wreckage, she felt a strange sense of clarity. Maybe this wasn't for her.

In the back of her mind, she had known this day would come. The lack of customers, the dwindling hope—she had always pushed it aside, refusing to acknowledge the inevitable. This bakery had been her everything, but it was also a source of constant stress. Now, standing on the edge of losing it, she didn't feel the panic she had always imagined. Instead, she felt... relief.

Her thoughts drifted to Leonardo. The memory of him smiling softly as he ate her smushed cupcakes and later devouring her eggs and toast as though they were a gourmet feast filled her with unexpected warmth. She had missed that feeling—the joy of watching someone truly savor something she'd made. She thought back to the days when customers would walk in, faces lighting up at the sight of her pastries. That spark of joy, that connection, was what she loved most about baking.

Maybe this was life's way of telling her it was time to move on. Maybe this bakery wasn't the right place or time, but that didn't mean she couldn't find another way to share her skills. And knowing that someone—he—enjoyed her food so much gave her a small but precious sense of hope.

Her gaze shifted as Leonardo reappeared from the kitchen, his large frame moving with silent precision. He approached the trash bags by the door, bending down and lifting them effortlessly, the strain barely registering on his face. She jumped to her feet, instinctively wanting to help.

"I can—" she started, but he shook his head, stopping her in her tracks.

"It's fine," he said firmly. "Don't worry."

Realizing she wouldn't win this battle, she hurried to the back door instead, her hands gripping the handle. The cold wind rushed in as she pulled it open, the sharp chill biting at her exposed arms. Leonardo nodded in appreciation as he stepped past her, his movements steady and careful despite the heavy bags he carried.

She stepped aside, her foot pressing against the base of the door to hold it open, her eyes instinctively following his every move. Even in the dim light of the alley, his movements were deliberate and sure, like someone entirely in control of their surroundings. She watched as he placed the bags inside the dumpster with precision, making sure that nothing spilled.