“Stop squirming,” Raph growls, tightening his grip on the silky cloth. He presses his fingers against Leo’s legs, partly to hold him steady, partly as a warning, before yanking the stockings higher with a grunt. 
“Real talk,” Leo says from where’s sitting on the bed, legs slightly elevated to get the new gear on. “Is this same stuff you used for those fishnet gloves in the wo–ow!” 
Raph lets go of the scales he’d grabbed in a vicious pinch, glaring up at his brothers. “They were not “fishnets,” and no, I didn’t.” He tugs the stockings higher over Leo’s knee, roughly snapping a garter into place. “Mind your mouth, or you won’t get to wear the pretty duds I got for ya.” 
Leo bows his head demurely, eyes lowered and coy. “I’m sorry Daddy,” he murmurs, and fuck, Raph wants to tackle him onto the bed right there, which is probably what the asshole wants. But he can, in fact, restrain himself, giving the right motivation, and he focuses on getting the stockings onto Leo’s feet (he’s more careful on the other knee, smoothing the cloth slowly and carefully over scarred scales before lightly tugging the garter into place). 
When he’s done he takes a moment to smooth his hands over Leo’s legs, at once checking for wrinkles and just luxuriating in the ripple of fine cloth against scale and muscle. Leo’s legs are deadly as the rest of him, quick and vicious, but here, under Raph’s touch, they’re beautiful. 
“What do you think?” he asks, sitting back and gesturing to the bedroom floor. 
Leo moves smoothly off the bed and paces back and forth, cloth rustling ever so slightly. “They’re comfy, I guess.” He lifts his leg and Raph bites his lip at the sight of all of that tender muscle bunching and curling beneath a soft wall. “Be a bitch to wear into combat, though.” 
Raph clears his throat, trying to not to let the image of Leo wreaking havoc in his finest stockings give him even more a hard-on. “Turn around.” 
Leo does as he’s told, bending slightly with a teasing wink over his shoulder so Raph can see the way the stockings compliment his perfect ass. There’s not a rip or hole in sight, the fabric crisp with newness and care, and Raph watches Leo run a finger down the side of his own leg, as if savoring that. 
Then he looks back up at Raph, face bright with curiosity and not a little excitement. “What do we do now?” 
Raph rolls his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Same thing we always do.” He seizes Leo by the wrist and tugs him onto the bed; Leo could twist free easily, but he lets himself be tugged into Raph’s lap, giggling as his hands slap against Raph’s chest. His breath flutters, warm and insistent, against Raph’s racing pulse. 
“They’re wonderful stockings,” he murmurs, his legs coming up to around Raph’s waist and rub gently against his scales. “You did a great job; your sewing kits are really coming along.” 
Raph’s too horny to deal with the mental gymnastics of coming up with a thank-you, but he can feel his cheeks heating up anyway and Leo smiles like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. Really, there’s no way to respond to that except growl and throw his brother on his back, swinging Leo’s finely clad legs over his shoulders as they see to the evening’s work.