It was almost midnight when Michelangelo headed home.  While he would have loved to stay out longer, the last thing he needed was for Leo to get on his case the following morning about sleeping in until seven in the morning and missing the warm-up session.  So with great trepidation, Mikey finally gave up on his nightly parkour session, and headed to the nearest manhole cover. 
	
	 Crouching on the rooftop of an old rundown crack house that he and his brothers had helped shut down last year, he spotted what he was looking for.  He then scanned the area for any pair of eyes that might ruin his fun.  And this was fun.  Playing hide and seek with the denizens of this city was one of Mikey's favorite pastimes.  

	No one was around.  No prostitutes, no dealers, no bums pissing on the street.  Outstanding, he thought.  Or, at least, until he realized his mistake.  He had forgotten the crowbar back in his room.  Again.  His nunchaku and his large stubby fingers were useless for this task, so now it was time for a little alley-diving.  Walk down the right back alley in New York City, and you could find anything.  

	And Mikey found things.  Money, weapons, magazines of the unsavory variety, even dead bodies and body parts; it never ceased to amaze Michael the things that humans trashed.  But now, he saw that he wouldn't have to dig in the dumpster to find a "key" to his lair.  

	Across the street from the abandoned crack house was a jewelry store.  Why someone would set up a jewelry store in this godforsaken hellhole of a  neighborhood was beyond Mikey.  It had to have been a front for the local Cosa Nostra.  If so, then Mikey was about to do the two idiots currently attempting to break into the closed down shop a favor.  Even if this particular favor was going to hurt like hell for the thugs in the morning.  

	Again, Mikey saw no one else on the darkened, littered street but the looters.  And both of them had their backs turned to the turtle.  This is going to be too easy, he thought.  But no less fun.  

	About as noisily as a butterfly touching down on a leaf, the young mutant leaped off of his two story perch, landed a few feet behind the two clowns, pulled his duel nunchaku, and gripped them in order to stabilize the chain.  Normally, he would have loved to make a smart-assed remark before knocking them both out, but his father had warned him about his habit of alerting his enemies beforehand.  Thinking of his father possibly still awake, Michelangelo couldn't help but smile a bit.  

	Michelangelo took his nunchaku, jammed them into the sides of the burglars' necks, pinpointing the pressure points that his sensei had showed him, and used that momentum to smack their heads together, thus effortlessly neutralizing them both.  He checked their pulses.  Weak, but still there.  After both of the crooks were safely unconscious, Mike picked up what he had originally sought after; the crowbar that the two had been using for their less than legal deed.  
	
	The street was empty, so the turtle could relax a little bit.  He merrily skipped over to the manhole cover, pried it open, and hopped down the tunnel.  He kept the crowbar, of course.  One could never have too many crowbars.  Even if this one made the eighth in Mikey's collection.    

	The teenage mutant ninja turtle had grown up in these old tunnels, so finding his way back to sewer sweet sewer was no problem.  The route he had to take was complicated enough, but that didn't stop his brilliant brother Donnie from building an electronic lock on the door to the lair.  

	The keypad next to the door was built to resemble a phone pad, so all Mikey had to do was punch in his name, and the door would pop open.  His full name.  At first, it had been a pain in the shell to do, as Mike had to look for the letters on each individual button just to open the door, and at times, he had simply given up and started pounding on the door, hoping to be let in by a member of his family.  But at this point, even he had memorized the number sequence that matched his name.  

	It was in the middle of spring, so Donatello had begun installing a new AC system, and Mikey was treated to a nice blast of cool air as soon as he stepped inside his home.  Not only that, but a more than pleasant smell was drifting from the kitchen area.  A smell he was more than used to.  A smell that faintly accelerated his heartbeat.  

	He walked into the kitchen and saw what he knew what he'd find; his favorite homemade pizza dish, sitting on the stove, fresh out of the oven, still steaming.  And he didn't have to guess who made it for him.  Not only that, but it was sized perfectly, just for him.  These were no leftovers; it was made specifically for Michelangelo.  AND there was a pot of ginseng tea that was just now reaching boiling point.  

	Mikey smiled at the sight, as he knew what it meant.  He picked up the small slice of pizza and bit into it.  It was divine.  Perfectly warm, it made his night's troubles seem to go right away.  So enraptured by his late night dinner, that he actually jumped when he felt a familiar, firm hand on his shoulder.

	Master Splinter was a rat with many faces.  During early morning training sessions with Leonardo, he wore a stern, unforgiving look that commanded respect and demanded results from his eldest son and second in command.  During Chess with Donatello, he wore an utterly focused that gave away not a single hint of his impending strategy to the most intelligent of his sons.  During therapeutic relaxation meditation with Raphael, he wore a calm, soothing expression in order to better teach inner peace to the most violent of his sons.  And for his youngest and most playful son, now he was wearing the expression that Mikey had come to love the most.  A look of love, kindness and welcoming.

	Splinter's smile was infectious, and Mikey couldn't help but catch the bug.  Student and master beamed at each other, knowing what the smiles meant.  After what seemed like an eternity, they both leaned in and shared a light, quick kiss on the lips.  Without saying a word, Michelangelo poured a cup of tea for his father and handed it to him.

	Splinter held the stolen crowbar with one hand, examining it, while lightly sipping his still steaming tea.  Michelangelo wasn't surprised at that.  The old rat was the one who taught them ninjitsu, so of course he had the ability to snatch the crowbar out of Mike's belt without his knowledge.  

	"Don't you have five of these things already, Michael?"  Splinter asked in a playful tone.  Of course he didn't mind his son's odd collections.  That's what made him special.  Among other things.  

	"You can never have too many crowbars, Dad."  Mike knew it was OK for him to call Splinter that for now.  "And actually, this makes eight."  He turned back to fix himself a cup of tea.  Ginsing was a flavor on which they both agreed.  They agreed on a surprising amount of things.

	"Hhhmmm….  I suppose they make suitable trophies as well," Splinter guessed correctly.  There wasn't a hint of anger in his voice.  He had taught the boys the ancient art of Japanese guerilla warfare for a reason.  In addition, he encouraged his sons to go out into the world, to challenge themselves with what he taught them.  

	"Might I correctly guess that you have remembered what I taught you about the versatility of the nunchaku?"  

	Michelangelo turned around to see that Splinter was holding both of his chained weapons, using the exact grip that the turtle had used earlier that night to take out the would be thieves, and then looked down to see the crowbar tucked back into his belt.  While Splinter's skill seldom surprised him anymore, it had not, however, failed to impress him.  

	Seeing his father recall their lesson, and seeing that his father had correctly deduced his nightly activities, Mikey swelled with pride.  

	"In fact, I have.  How do you think I got the crowbar?"  Splinter didn't need to think.  While he had taught them what he knew for them to merely protect themselves, he didn't object too terribly much when they began to use their talents to protect the surrounding neighborhood, as well.  And Splinter knew that the neighborhood had needed protecting, if they were to stay safe in their humble little abode.  It was why he had joined them on their crusade to shut down the crack house that Mikey had used as his perch earlier that night.  And Splinter certainly didn't mind that Michael had brought home proof of his good deeds.  Eight crowbars meant at least eight stores and/or homes had not been broken into and ransacked.  It was "at least" because the burglars didn't always use crowbars.  Michael also had a number of bolt cutters, stethoscopes, and other nefarious hardware tools in his room as well.

	As big and delicious as the pizza pie was, Mikey knew it wasn't all for him, nor did he mind.  He cut off an equal slice for his father, who handed him back his nunchaku, took the piece, smiled at his son, and then turned and walked towards his room without saying goodnight.  Mikey wasn't offended in the least, because he knew it wasn't time to say goodnight.  

	Master Splinter's room was really not that much bigger than that of his four sons, but he was smart enough to Fung Shui the room so that it immediately created a sense of welcome and calm.  Whenever his sons needed to seek his private guidance, they did so with utter reassurance, thanks to their father's careful arrangement of furniture. 

	Now, however, as Michelangelo walked into the room, it wasn't calm he was feeling, but heightened anticipation.  He could scarcely contain himself as he saw the table sitting in the middle of the room.  It was set up so that both turtle and rat could sit side by side and face Splinter's homemade waterfall system, which he had built with Donnie's help of course.  The purple-clad turtle had also set up a stereo system in his master's room, and right now, peaceful Japanese meditation music was piping through the speakers.  The music itself came from a wi-fi receiver that Donatello had installed and cleverly hid just above their lair.  It was also how they got internet and some cable.  

	Normally,  Michelangelo would be bored to tears by this sort of music, but only on these special occasions did it do wonders for his adrenaline.  He sat down next to his father, and placed his tea and pizza in front of him.  Smiling over at his father, he couldn't help but notice the amount of brown, furry thigh and hip was showing just under his father's kimono.  He knew Splinter was too careful to allow that to happen by accident.  

	He turned and stared into the beautiful, homemade waterfall, and felt both peace and excitement.  Although he hated uncomfortable silences, this was by no means uncomfortable.  The sheer closeness to his beloved sensei and father had quickened his breathing considerably.  If his father felt the same, it certainly didn't show.  And that's why Mikey loved him.  He was turning to tell him this exact thing, when Splinter suddenly held up a piece of his own pizza pie, offering it to his son's lips.  the young turtle's eyes widened in surprise, then turned into a look of playfulness as he ate the offering right out of Splinter's hand.

	The pie was meant to be eaten with fork and knife, so of course it dribbled down some, but Mikey was able to duck his head down and catch it in his mouth before it fell from Splinter's hands.  Bits of melted cheese dribble off of Splinter's fingers, which Michael licked off happily.  

	Splinter chuckled heartily, which gave Mikey a thrill.  His father didn't laugh often.  Mike was pretty much the only turtle who could elicit such a reaction from the wise old rat.  And right now, Splinter was doing more than just laughing.  Mikey could hear the faintest groan of pleasure coming from his father's throat as he sucked the fingers dry.  He smiled at his father's tongue peeking out from his teeth.

	Michelangelo still had some pie on his plate as well.  Always the grateful son, he picked it up and offered his father a bite.  Splinter took it merrily, clutching his son's offered hand, slowly eating out of it.  Neither of them minded taking their time.  Mikey giggled a bit as he felt a smooth tongue run across his palm, a ticklish spot his father knew very well.  

	Having loved the sensation, Mikey reached down for another piece of pizza pie, only to find that they had bother finished off their late night dinners.  His momentarily dismay was shattered, however, when he felt something soft, smooth, and wet run up his cheek, quite close to his mouth.  His eyes drifted shut as Splinter sensuously licked off a remaining piece of melted cheese from his face.

	He needed to do something with his hands.  Then he remembered Splinter's robe.  Reaching down, he ran his hands slowly through the luxurious, smooth fur of his sensei's thighs, gently squeezing the wonderfully toned muscles he found underneath.  Splinter must have appreciated this, for Mike's head was turned and pressed into a much more thorough kiss than the one they had shared earlier in the kitchen.

	Michelangelo didn't even try to suppress the moan that escaped his throat as he felt experienced fingers remove his orange mask.  Even though both student and master kept their mouths closed, the kiss was nonetheless heart-quickening for the young turtle.  And it must have been exiting for his partner as well, as Mike could feel a significant pulse increase in the veins of his father's fat-free legs.  They gently sucked at each other's lips.

	Normally, Splinter could have removed his son's elbow pads without his knowledge, but he obviously wanted Mikey to feel them as much as possible.  The turtle shivered as he felt claw tips run down his forearms, dragging the pads and wrist wraps  with them.  His sensei's knowledge of the body and its sweet spots was amazing, Mikey mused, as he gasped in delight.  This brief opening of his mouth was all Splinter needed.

	Mikey happily let the smooth, slippery tongue into his mouth and quickly returned the action, running his own tongue along his master's.  He tildes his head so as to fit his mouth more easily onto Splinter's mouth, and then reached farther up  Splinter's legs with his exploring hands.  He made like he was about to dart his hands into the rat's groin, then playfully pulled away to reach back and give his hips a squeeze instead.  

	Mike felt Splinter's tongue twitch at his hands' work, as well as the rat's own hands run up and down the turtle's strong chest.  up and down, those sharp claws traveled, finding all of Michelangelo's ticklish spots, making him gasp into the heated kiss.  Splinter then grabbed Mikey's neck and held onto his head as the pair made out together.  

	As much fun as Mikey was having rubbing and kneading his dad's hips and butt, there was a greater prize waiting for his hands just around the corner.  Slowly, his hands moved away from behind Splinter to that wonderful area right between his legs, anticipating the feel of those special parts in his hand.  But before he could reach his target, Splinter reached down and grabbed his wrist, pulling out of the kiss at the same time.  If it weren't for the lusty look on his face, Mikey would have thought the worst.  But the rat merely uttered a single word with a shaky, whispered voice.

	Obeying his father's command, Mikey smiled and rose to his feet.  His father smiled back at him, then gently removed the crowbar and nunchaku from the turtle's belt.  He'd completely forgotten that they were even there.  Splinter kissed the muscular green thighs in front of him, first the right, then the left, and set the items aside.  He then hooked his clawed thumbs into the belt and slowly pulled it down, catching the kneepads on the way down, removing them as well.

	Mikey stood naked in front of his father, with his hands on Splinter's shoulders, and Splinter's hands on his thighs.  Mikey seldom wore anything else other than his  ninja gear, which basically including the items that had just been removed from his person.  But still, it never failed to excite him to stand in front of his master alone like this.  And he knew Splinter loved it as well, judges from the squeezing of his hands.
	
	Father and son smiled wildly at each other, and Splinter went to work.  Running his hands up, down, and all around Michelangelo's legs, hips and buttocks, he gently kissed Mikey's crotch, which was still hiding what he sought after.  Mikey leaned his head back and groaned just loud enough for his brothers not to hear.  But it was so difficult, with Sensei's experienced kisses and licks.  It was also getting harder to remain standing, as Splinter gently tickled his son's rear opening with his claw tip.  Something else was getting harder as well.  

	At last, Splinter had what he wanted, and Mikey yelled as he felt that wonderful tongue drag ever so slowly up his length.  When he reached the tip, he gently took it into his mouth and suckled, and Mike was suddenly grateful for the body control lessons that he had learned in an earlier…..session.  Even when he looked down into his father's warm eyes as that magnificent muzzle slowly sank down and engulfed him, he managed to control himself.  

	Mikey was suddenly grateful for the long suckling that he had given Splinter's finger earlier.  He winced as that very finger gently press into his opening.  His hips moved back and forth into Splinter's mouth and onto Splinter's finger as he felt the digit squirm deeper into his backside.  He realized that he was also grateful for all the previous times that Splinter had invited him into his room, as it made the digging much easier.  

	Before he knew it, he felt a firm knuckle against his anus, and a very special sensation deep inside of him.  Mike threw his head back and moaned.  Splinter truly did know his body inside and out.  Mikey also felt those rodent lips right up against his crotch, as Splinter took the whole of the turtle's member into his muzzle.  Mikey looked down into his master's eyes, and he could feel the rat smile around himself.  Splinter's skill was such that Michelangelo didn't even feel the rat's two front teeth.    

	He gently rubbed Splinter's face, paying special attention to the ears.  Splinter may have known all of his boy's ticklish spots, but he had also taught Mikey some of his own spots.  Teacher and student laughed together as teacher's ears were rubbed, and the vibration's from teacher's laughs traveled up his student's length.  However, Mikey looked down at Splinter's crotch and saw something.  Something that distressed him.

	It was more of what he didn't see, in truth.  He had to change that.  That, and the fact that his old man was still inappropriately dress for this occasion.  With some reluctance, he gently pulled out of Splinter's mouth, and felt the finger slip out of his bum.  He once more kneeled in front of his master, and kissed him again, tasting his own salty excretions on Splinter's tongue.  His hands once more went to his father's thighs, and this time, they weren't stopped in the least little bit when they traveled towards their intended target.  

	Michelangelo relished to feeling of Splinter's weighty genitals in his hands.  He squeezed the rat's furry pouch and stroked the sheath, making Splinter break the kiss in order to vocalize his moans.  Splinter threw his head back, inviting Mikey to kiss and lick at his neck.  The rat held his son's head close, encouraging his explorations, above and below.  As much fun as Mikey was having with the flesh at his hands, he suddenly realized how in the way Splinter's pesky kimono really was.  
	
	Mike moved his hands up to the tassel at his father's waist and expertly untied the complicated knot.  They kissed again as those green, strong hands pulled the robe open and exposed Splinter's wonderfully toned body.  He excessed as much as his sons, and boy, did it show.  Even under the fur, Splinter's formed was clearly outlined for Mikey's viewing pleasure.  

	And Mikey viewed.  And touched.  Everywhere.  From Splinter's slowly emerging member, to where his nipples protruded out of his fur.  Splinter's body fur was light brown everywhere except for the bottom half of his face, his belly and chest, and his inner thighs.  Mikey loved the contrast.  

	With one hand gently pinching his father's left nipple, his other hand ran down the rat's now fully turgid length, across his heavy scrotum, giving the orbs a light squeeze, and finally, underneath his father's privates, to stroke the area between his rectum and genitals.  Mikey felt Splinter's tongue dig as deep into his mouth as it could possibly go in order to show his appreciation.  Those clawed hands clutched at those green biceps as Mikey reached even farther back to finger Splinter's opening.   However, his own green digits were a great deal larger than those of his master, and they had to stay outside.  

	Mikey suddenly found himself resenting that kimono more than ever.  He moved both hands up to Splinter's shoulder's and with one move, removed the single article of clothing.  He gazed lovingly at his beloved sensei's marvelous, naked form.  Mikey realized that he had pushed Splinter's body too hard, and the old rat was now on his back, legs sprawled, that erection jutting up proudly from his groin.  

	Michelangelo took a brief moment to drink up the magnificent sight, then got to work, intending to repay his master's earlier actions.  He planted a brief, yet passionate kiss, on Splinter's mouth, and then traveled lower, kissing at his neck and jaw.  Splinter just laid back, putting his hands behind his head, and let his student have his way.  Mikey took one of Splinter's still protruding nipples in between his lips and suckled, smiling as his father arched his back in pleasure.  After licking the other nipple briefly, he moved even lower to kiss at Splinter's well defined stomach, finding what he knew to be Splinter's sweet spots.  

	Finally, he reached the ultimate sweet spot.  Mikey's blood was up, and he wasted little time, licking the thick organ in front of him.  Splinter squirmed in delight as his son ran his tongue from testicles to tip.  Using the technique he had used in other sessions, he quickly flicked his tongue across the crown of Splinter's meat, driving the rat wild.  It was even better when he took the entire length all the way into his beak, sucking and slurping loudly.  

	Mikey's head bobbed up and down his master's rigid, blood filled member, getting it as wet and as slick as possible.  He knew how he wanted the night to end, and this wasn't it.  Still, he worked to please his father, as his father had worked to please him earlier.  Mike smiled as he heard his name being called out, pausing in his sucking to look up at his father, who had his eyes screwed shut.  He slowly pulled his mouth up and off of Splinter's manhood, then went to kiss his furry pouch.  Looking at the spit shined penis, he felt that Splinter was ready.  

	He brought his head up to his father's mouth to kiss him deeply, making the kiss as lewd as possible.  He rubbed Splinter's member up and down to coat it with his own saliva, as well as the rat's own fluids.  Finally, he broke the kiss, and assumed the position.

	Michelangelo turned around, and got onto his hands and knees, essentially presenting himself to his father.  He hoped the old male would get the idea, and he did.  He felt two hands on either of his buttocks, and he shivered with anticipation.  What he hadn't anticipated, however, was the feeling of something small, slippery, wet, warm, and very flexible pressing into his opening.  Perhaps Splinter thought that the earlier fingering wasn't enough.  However, Mike had no objections.  

	He called out his master's name as he felt that talented tongue dig into his rectum.  Not just licking it, but actually penetrating him, and it felt wonderful.  He could feel Splinter's whiskers tickle his backside.  He rocked back and forth as he felt Splinter grow more insistent in his oral digging.  Michelangelo's anus was absolutely soaked with his father's spittle, and he loved it.  

	Suddenly, the licking stopped, and was replaced by some else long and bendable.  Michael took time to marvel at Splinter's self control as he felt the finger bury itself all the way up to the knuckle.  His master worked the digit in and out of Mikey, until he must have felt the turtle was ready for a second.  Mikey took the second finger with a light gasp.  His arousal rose as he felt that special spot inside of him being gently massaged by his father's strong fingers, and his member being caressed by Splinter's other hand.  A third finger went in, just for safe measure.  Splinter held his hand still, and gently kissed both of his son's buttocks.

	Without warning, all three fingers slipped out, and Splinter placed one more long lick and kiss on Michelangelo's opening.  The turtle smiled when he felt both hands on his rump, and he heard Splinter scoot closer.  What sent his heart racing was the feeling of his master's arousal pressing into his entrance.  He was helpless to stifle a yell when Splinter slowly penetrated him, softly squeezing his hips.  His master paused half way, and when he did, Mikey eased his body back to let him know he wasn't in any pain he couldn't handle.  That was all that the rat needed.  Splinter's hips pushed into Mickey's behind, and the turtle looked behind at his father when he heard an unmistakable groan of pleasure, a groan that, as far as he knew, only he had ever heard.  

	Splinter's length was perfect.  It could be hilted all the way up to the crotch, and when it was hilted, it was noticeably pressed into Michael's pleasure center.  Splinter knew this, and bucked his hips as to roughly poke his student's prostate.  This caught Mikey by surprise, and he gave a somewhat comical yelp.  Master and student looked at each other and giggled together.  Splinter leaned down to affectionately kiss his son on the back of the neck, then leaned back up to get to work.  	
	
	It was a practiced pace,  one that they were both used to, and neither could see a reason as to why they could change it.  Not too fast, not too slow, it let them build up to the results that they both wanted.  All the way in, and all the way out, Splinter went, Making sure to press into his son as deep as he could.  Mikey certainly felt this, as his own member pulsed everytime he felt his lover hilt.  He was grateful for Splinter's earlier work with his tongue and fingers.  While Splinter's length was comfortable, his girth was something that had been an obstacle for them both.  But that only added to Mikey's pleasure, and he hoped his own tightness was satisfying his loving master.  

	He glanced back over his shoulder, and he saw that it was.  He had expected to see his father to stare back at him lovingly.  Instead, the rat had his head thrown back, his mouth open in pleasure, his eyes shut, and rhythmic moans escaping from his lips.  He must have felt his student's eyes upon him, for he looked down and smiled at Mikey with affection, never breaking his pace.  He moved one hand off of the turtle's hips and onto his green, turgid member, while leaning forward to kiss his son.  

	When Michelangelo saw this, he rose to meet his father half way, and they connected in a fiery kiss.  Neither slowed their movements.  Splinter squeezed his student's member, and Mikey thrusted into the hand involuntarily.  For a moment, he felt as if he was going to disconnect from Splinter, until a hand on his chest pulled him back so that he was essentially sitting impaled on his father's lap.  

	Splinter stopped thrusting long enough to reposition both of them.  With Mikey in his lap, he pulled both of their bodies back even further, so that the old rat was supporting all of his son's weight.  His sense of balance was perfect, as they didn't even teeter backwards.  He placed his hands under Michael's legs, and renewed his thrusting.  

	Only this thrusting was much faster than before.  Michelangelo knew what that meant.  Time to end this.  He reached behind and wrapped his right arm around Splinter's neck, holding on for the ride.  In response, Splinter took his own right hand and stroked his son towards climax.  They bounced together rapidly, moaning and groaning in unison, forgetting about their sleeping family members.  

	With Splinters penis hilting with each thrust, and with his own penis being squeezed and stroked in time with said thrusting, Mikey reached his peak in no time.  His semen sprayed into the table in front of him, and the rest of it was rubbed onto his member.  He clenched as hard as he could during his climax, and was rewarded for his efforts.

"Master Splinter!"

"Michelangelo!"

	Upon hearing his own full name, Mikey felt his master hug his body tighter than ever, and felt the familiar wet warmth spreading in his bowels.  Splinter was calling out his pleasure right into his ear, and Mikey loved it.
	
After what felt like ages of tensing and coming, both turtle and rat let out a long hard breath and collapsed sideways onto the mat beneath them.  For a long time, neither of them spoke.  They were content to enjoy the silence.  

	After what felt like ages, Splinter stood up, disconnecting from his student.  He stretched, and Mikey admired the sight of him flexing his taught muscles beneath his finely trimmed fur.  At first, he thought his father was going to ask him to leave, as he had done before.  It would not do to have them walk out of the same room in the morning.  

	But then, his sensei simply walked over to a nearby chest, pulled out a soft, woolen quilt, and laid back down beside his son.  Both were covered in the quilt, and without a word, Splinter kissed Mikey gently on the lips, and rested his head on his shoulder.  

	Michelangelo didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything at all.  Don't you do it, he thought to himself.  Just enjoy the moment.  Enjoy the night.  And that's just what Mikey did.  He turned slightly sideways, towards his sleeping father, and listened to the sound of the rat softly snoring.  Soon, they were both asleep.