Work Text:
"Don't you ever get tired from all this work?"
It was a silly question. Though it was exactly what Donnie could expect from his equally silly little brother, who had barged into his lab in the middle of the night with the bold claim of having figured out the perfect design for their new Turtle Tank. His 'blueprints' reminded Donnie more of test paper doodles than any official drafts, but they were still worth looking over; though outlandish at times, the youngest Hamato's ideas usually carried a strange streak of genius. If Donnie was to ever be recognised for his work, he'd have to make sure Mikey was credited as well.
But despite the surprising sparks of brilliance, his favourite assistant was also his bright and curious little brother who would occasionally ask unexpected and irrelevant questions— and when he didn't get his answers immediately, he'd prod. Clearly impatient, the younger turtle rocked back and forth in a creaky old chair next to the desk Donnie was hunched over. "Donnie?"
The blueprints were showing a lot of potential. Donnie didn't look away from the drafts as he answered, plain and simple, "No."
Smoothing out the crinkled edges of the papers, he leaned in closer to the messy work desk. While taking apart the original vehicle and analysing its failures had taken him weeks and many sleepless nights, his little brother had casually doodled a colourful little drawing within a couple of hours that, with just a few tweaks here and there, seemed to hold all the solutions to his problems. It was frustrating how Mikey seemed to catch all the little issues that were hiding in his blind spots. They all seemed so obvious when written down in rainbow crayons.
The Turtle Tank had been one of Donnie's proudest creations, but as a man of science, he couldn't fight the facts; its imperfections had nearly gotten himself and Mikey crushed. The upgraded version had no room for such failures, and so, he had no choice but to put his pride aside and take all the help he was offered, even if it meant letting go of his own vision and allowing his brother's creativity to shine. And no, it didn't have anything to do with the fact that his brain was completely done in from working nonstop for weeks, nope. If someone were to mention the uncharacteristically unkempt state of his work station, he'd say it was simply a sign of hard, diligent work and nothing else.
Mikey, however, didn't seem particularly interested in things like pride or whether or not his blueprints were of use. He looked up at Donnie from where he was, now nearly sprawled across the desk with his hands stretched out.
"Really?" He pressed, resting his cheek lazily against the hard surface like a sleepy little cherub. Nearly anyone could've been fooled by the seemingly innocent gaze, but Donnie knew better than to fall for the faux sweetness— it was an obvious front. The box turtle was after something more than just answers to random questions, working his way up with meaningless small talk just like Leo would.
Fighting the urge to pinch his annoying, scheming little brother's doughy face (boy, the sleep deprivation was really getting to him), Donnie kept his eyes on the drafts and tried to remember what he'd just been asked about. If he was tired from his work? Right.
"Really," he repeated back as he continued rewriting Mikey's notes down to his notepad. The haphazard bullet points would have to be arranged into a more cohesive document eventually, but for now the fast scribbles were enough. He could hardly focus enough to read full sentences, concentrating on stringing singular words together instead. "It's not like I'm getting paid for any of this. I wouldn't do all this work if I was too tired to do it."
It was a lie. He was exhausted, but nobody else in his family could work on his tech. There was simply no time for rest.
Mikey hummed in reply and laid his head down to rest on top of his arms instead. His eyelids were drooping to the rhythm of Donnie's writing, the sound of pencil against paper almost lulling him to sleep. It was late, way past his usual bedtime, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of more than a single night of bad sleep. Donnie didn't dare question it; time was ticking, and though he wanted to be there for his brother, he didn't want to risk being distracted by whatever was keeping Mikey up. There was a high chance he'd just watched too many ghost hunting videos, and though analysing and debunking stupid ghost videos as fake was one of Donnie's favourite pastimes, he was now simply too busy to do so.
The invasion debacle had left its mark in the form of destruction and heaps of repair work. Updating the Turtle Tank was just one relatively small project on Donnie's long list of tasks as the lair's entire security system had to be reassessed and updated. It didn't bother him, not really. He enjoyed spending hours working on his tech. What bothered him instead were the daily distractions from his family. His siblings kept sticking their noses into his business and slowing down his process, and Mikey was no exception. When the sleepy box turtle opened his mouth to speak, Donnie knew what was coming. He had been told similar things for weeks.
"But you've been drinking so much coffee lately," Mikey mumbled. "And you could carry a week's worth of groceries with those eyebags."
Ignoring the jab, Donnie kept his eyes on the blueprints to avoid his little brother's gaze as real concern started creeping into Mikey's tone. "You don't even seem happy doing all of this. And you love working on your inventions!"
Ouch.
Suddenly everything, anything else demanded Donnie's attention more than the worried gaze Mikey had on him. Eyes still scanning the notes, his mind started wandering— finding more problems to add to his to-do list as a distraction. The lab felt cold even through his thick hoodie, making his fingers tremble as he tried to write. Had the heating system broken down again? The desk was far too messy for his liking, too. There simply hadn't been enough time for rearranging the documents which were spread out under Mikey's drafts in unfinished piles. He'd have to fix that ASAP, he couldn't risk ruining his schedule by misplacing important records of his most recent work.
As Donnie's brain desperately searched for more unrelated, miscellaneous issues to focus on, a small bandaged hand landed on top of the blueprints, covering them. Mikey's voice was quiet and and gentle as he said, "You really need to get some proper rest, Dee."
And there it was: youngest sibling-coded emotional manipulation at its finest, complete with big puppy eyes and an innocent smile. Donnie put his pencil down with a sigh. Lately it seemed like everyone was repeating the same thing: Donnie, get some sleep. Donnie, that's too much coffee. Donnie, have you stayed up all night again? It was stifling.
And no matter how much he loved his little brother, Mikey was in no position to question whether he took adequate care of himself or not; over the past few months after the invasion, the orange-clad turtle had forgotten the state of his own injuries and overexerted his hands multiple times. Donnie wouldn't take advice from a hypocrite, even if he had good intentions and exceptional skills in persuasion.
Tired and frustrated, he rubbed the arch between his sore eyes before looking down at Mikey with a furrowed brow. It was obvious he had no clue why Donnie was staying up working all day and night, staring up at him innocently yet expectantly like a hungry pet dog at 5 a.m. though the digital clock on the desk had just ticked over to 2:30 in bright, purple neon.
"Our enemies are not going to wait for me to 'get some proper rest', Mikey," Donnie explained. "If I don't fix everything now, we won't be prepared if something bad happens."
Mikey's face twisted into a dissatisfied frown. Giving him a quick pat on the head, Donnie pushed his hand away from the blueprints to take another look at the notes. The faster he finished writing down the most vital improvement ideas, the faster he could get back to doing actual work. Though his eyes were starting to sting from the strain of staying open, the constant, nagging feeling of urgency in the back of his mind kept him awake and (somewhat) focused. The papers were blurring together into a colourful mess, but he could force the words back to their respective places by squinting hard enough.
Having Mikey in his lab, almost lying on his desk all loose and relaxed, was only reminding him of his own fatigue. Even then, he wasn't heartless enough to tell his baby brother to leave him alone, and now he had to suffer the consequences as said baby brother let out an ear-grating, high-pitched groan.
"Aww, come on, Dee! The bad guys are just as busy rebuilding their bases as we are, they're not gonna cause us trouble anytime soon!" Mikey whined, grabbing the sleeve of Donnie's purple hoodie and pulling at it pitifully while doubling down on his puppy eyes once more. "At least take a nap with me? You'll be able to think so much better after some rest!"
It was a sound argument, but this time it wouldn't do. With a quick tug, Donnie shook Mikey's hands off without a second thought. If he noticed Mikey wince and stretch out his fingers soon after, he didn't mention it.
"I'll sleep for a full day after I've finished the update plan for our new Turtle Tank," he grumbled, mostly to try and appease his worried little brother, but the face he was met with proved the attempt to be in vain.
"You say that, but I bet you'll just find something new to work on," Mikey said with a pout.
Donnie rolled his eyes. Damn Mikey's sharp intuition. Before he could think of a more elaborate excuse, the box turtle jumped out of his seat and reached out to roughly grab the blueprints from the desk, nearly knocking a forgotten cup of coffee over in the process.
"Hey!" Donnie protested. "I'm not done with those yet!"
The disappointed look on Mikey's face was already bad news. When the youngest Hamato got upset, he wasn't one to leave things be. Even then, hearing the papers rip and tear made Donnie flinch. As Mikey tore his drafts apart into small pieces of unintelligible letters and shapes with no hesitance and no mercy, his deep frown morphed into a wicked grin. Dr. Delicate Touch had entered the lab without invitation.
Donnie stared at Mikey with his mouth open, dumbfounded. The answers to his questions floated down to the floor in shreds.
The cheat code to finishing his work in days instead of weeks, now gone.
Forcefully taken away from his grip and destroyed like trash.
The bits of paper danced on their way down like feathers, making a mess on the lab's floor. Once the very last pieces were shredded and thrown into the air, Mikey held his empty hands up with a smug, satisfied smile, like he was completely oblivious to the consequences of what he had just done. His smile was met with an empty, disbelieving stare. The hum of the heating system was the only thing Donnie could hear, confirming it not broken after all. In fact, the room was getting warm again. Really, really warm. The heat was reaching his face at a rapid pace.
After a few more seconds of processing the sight of his self-satisfied little brother, the exhaustion and frustration finally took over.
With a garbled cry of exasperation, Donnie slammed his hands down to the desk. This time the cup did fall to the floor, spilling lukewarm coffee over Mikey's toes before breaking into pieces. The younger turtle yelped in surprise and reeled back from his brother.
"You— Why'd you do that?!" Donnie hissed, bristling. "I barely even saw the plan and— there were so many features that could've made the Turtle Tank nearly perfect! Do you want me to make something inadequate, Mikey? Is that it?!"
Mikey's frown deepened, this time with a hint of fright over frustration as Donnie heaved heavy, angry breaths. "Chill out, man. I've still got the ideas in my head, I'll tell you all about them in the morning," he said, trying to sound nonchalant even with a slight tremble in his voice.
Though Donnie wanted nothing more than to explode, to throw things around and destroy his lab, he drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth and dug his nails into his palms. Oh, his little brother was just the most frustrating person in the world. But it was cool, it was fine. He just had to explain himself well enough, and Mikey would understand and let him keep working. It was for his well-being, too. After another deep, deep breath, Donnie sat down on his long-forgotten chair with a loud thump.
"Listen, Angelo," he started, facing Mikey head-on, fists on his lap. Something about his posture must've come off as intimidating, since the younger turtle seemed to shrink under his dark stare. "I know myself well enough to know my limits. I have a system in place that works. I'm getting enough rest to function like a productive member of society, so—"
"I don't know if we can even be considered 'members of society'," Mikey whispered meekly. "We literally live outside of the system—"
"The point is," Donnie interrupted, ignoring Mikey's attempt at distracting him, "It is not your job to worry about me. In fact, I'd quite prefer it if you didn't stick your nose into my business unless you actually want to help. And right now, you're not helping. You're being a nuisance."
The last word came out as an angry hiss, emphasizing all the annoyance that had been building up for much longer than Donnie dared to admit. It was unfair for just Mikey to bear the brunt of what was meant for his entire family, Donnie knew this— the youngest ninja had simply been the one to set off the time bomb. Mikey's eyes widened and his lips pursed just enough to let his big brother know that he'd said too much. But even if the sight made Donnie's chest clench, there was nothing he could take back. His words were harsh, but they were also true, and he was too late to sugarcoat anything.
He was genuinely sick of being under constant surveillance for his work habits. There was work he had to finish— for his family's sake, even if they didn't appreciate it.
As if expecting a moment of clarity to pass Donnie and have him apologise for his unnecessarily cruel words, Mikey waited, biting his wobbling bottom lip. After a minute or two of silence, only broken by the quiet hum of the heating system, he gave up; it was obvious that he was waiting for nothing. Donnie's furious glare didn't ease up, though it did twitch as the corners of Mikey's eyes started tearing up. It took everything in Donnie to stay strong in his anger and fight against his big brother instinct when a small, sad chirp escaped from the back of the younger turtle's throat as he tried to find his voice again.
"I'm just worried about you," Mikey muttered. With a few quick blinks, he willed his tears away, and Donnie couldn't help but wonder when his emotionally vulnerable and open baby brother had started doing that. "You don't sleep properly, you don't eat properly... You don't even hang out with me if it's not for work. No skateboarding, no movie nights..."
He fiddled with his bandages, staring at his arms instead of Donnie. "Am I not worth your time anymore?"
Donnie flinched.
Oh. Oh.
He pulled back a sleeve to tap at his tech gauntlet. When the calendar view popped up, he scrolled back once, twice— oh no, his baby brother had a very good reason to be upset. He hadn't scheduled a single movie night with his brothers for a whole month.
It was true that he'd been preoccupied with his work after the invasion, but that much should've made perfect sense to anyone. He'd spent years improving his tech after the Shredder incident had proven most of his inventions useless in the face of a strong enough enemy, but the Turtle Tank nearly crumbling under the pressure of the Kraang was proof that the improvements hadn't been enough. It was something he could fix with more effort, more hard work, and he was ready to do all of it.
However, with a small and sad Mikey sitting quietly in an old lab chair, pulling at his now-loose bandages and looking down at his fingers like he was waiting to be yelled at, Donnie couldn't help but think that he'd failed at something much more important than just his work. As he put away the hologram calendar and drew a deep sigh, Mikey tensed up. It made something in Donnie's chest crack.
"Angelo," he started, trying to sound comforting. He waited for Mikey to carefully look up at him before continuing, "you're the reason I work so hard. All of this work is to make sure that you're safe. That we're all safe."
The frown on Mikey's faced deepened. "But—"
There was no point in arguing if Mikey didn't know what was really going on. Donnie braced himself and spoke up.
"When I try to sleep, I remember when we were waiting to be crushed," he deadpanned.
Mikey's mouth snapped shut.
"In that moment, I regretted so many things," Donnie continued, leaning forward to put his aching head into his hands. His brain felt as heavy as a brick. "I regretted that I hadn't spent more time researching the durability of different metals when working on the Turtle Tank. Instead, I spent all that time trying to make her cooler with a bunch of unnecessary add-ons."
There was no stopping the flow of words now. The purple-clad turtle rubbed his palms against his aching, tired eyes, and let go.
"I thought you'd die because of my incompetence. As long as there's something I could be doing to ensure it'll never happen again, I can't sleep. I have to work."
Speaking the truth had never felt so uncomfortable yet freeing at the same time, bringing with it a weird sensation of both shame and relief. It just spilled out, really; maybe he really was a little too tired. The struggle that had been taking place behind the curtain for months was now out there, open and naked in the spotlight, yet there was no applause. The awkward silence was deafening.
Donnie sat back up, giving Mikey a lopsided smile to try and cover up at least some of his raw vulnerability when a quiet, apologetic 'oh' escaped his little brother's lips. He'd finally managed to render Mikey speechless, but it didn't feel like a victory. Rather, it felt like he now had to soften the blow somehow.
"Trust me, I'd sleep if I could. I just can't," he admitted. The fatigue had been weighing on him for a long time, and the brain fog certainly wasn't helping with his work. If the constant feeling of dread waned for even a bit, he could've slept for an entire week. The explanation seemed to ease Mikey's confusion, but he still uttered another silly, silly question, "You still think about that? The Turtle Tank situation?"
The comment was so nonchalant, like Donnie had been talking about an embarrassing story from their childhood. The older turtle raised an eyebrow at his brother in disbelief, but Mikey's eyes were honest and questioning, without a hint of humour in them.
"Mikey, we literally almost died," Donnie reminded him. Obviously that should've been enough of a reason to still think about it, but instead of laughing sheepishly and admitting he was belittling a traumatic event, Mikey looked down at his hands yet again like he had to consider Donnie's words. The scars on his arms were peeking through the gaps of the bandages. A reminder of what they'd been through.
Mikey pursed his lips to a pondering pout. "I haven't really thought about it since," he admitted. "I mean, yeah, it was really scary, but..."
Donnie couldn't tell if Mikey was hesitating or simply trying to arrange his thoughts, but now he had the time to wait. There was no point in denying his defeat— he wasn't going make any more progress on the Turtle Tank without the blueprints. The feeling of hurry had drained away in the process of spilling his guts, leaving behind only slight unease and extreme weariness.
Mikey kept pulling at his bandages while thinking, like he was trying to tighten the wraps after having picked them loose. It was a sad sight. Instinctively, Donnie leaned closer to his orange-clad brother to tighten and re-tie the ends of the fabric into cute little ribbons like Leo usually did, nice and snug. Once he was finished, his eyes were met with a sweet, wide grin. Something had lit up behind Mikey's gaze, bringing back the sunshine that Donnie hadn't seen for too long.
"It was scary, but I'm glad that we were there together," he said. It was not the answer Donnie was expecting, and he blinked at Mikey slowly in silent confusion. Bright and attentive, Mikey noticed this immediately and explained further, "You always look out for me, Dee. I know you did everything you could to protect me, and I just..."
The subtle look of hesitation in the box turtle's eyes made Donnie frown— it was way too late for either of them to withhold their feelings. He grabbed Mikey's newly bandaged arms encouragingly, and with a deep breath, Mikey finished, "I'm not scared of bad things happening since I know that you'll always be there with me 'til the end."
Donnie blinked. Mikey stared at him, intense and earnest. There was not a hint of doubt in his eyes.
The words were sweet. Sickening, even. A little cheesy, just like the lines in the soap operas their dad liked to watch. Just like Mikey.
With no words to say, Donnie simply stared at Mikey's face. The silence stretched out, and a red tint started to slowly rise to the box turtle's cheeks.
Suddenly, Mikey ripped his arms away from Donnie's hold as he wrapped them around his own head, squirming in his chair in some strange dance of discomfort and embarrassment. "Ugh, that sounds so selfish! It's not like I wanted you to be there to get squished into a turtle pancake with me— but yeah it would've been extra terrifying without you there— but it's not like I was happy with the situation! And I definitely would've done anything to get us out of there if I could've!"
If embarrassment, slight guilt and some third mystery emotion could be turned into a physical manifestation, Donnie would've guessed Mikey's strange fidgeting to be the best representation of all three feelings intertwined. The boy folded into himself, arms tangled around his head in a weird defensive pose to hide at least some of the redness on his round face as he rambled on, "But hey, we're way stronger now! There's no way something like that will ever happen again!"
Only Mikey could make it endearing in the way it was, and Donnie couldn't help but snort at the sight.
"What!" Mikey hissed, but a smile was creeping back onto his face as he peeked at Donnie from behind his arms. "Here I am, opening up about my feelings, and you're just laughing! That's cruel, Donald!"
"Sorry," Donnie said, unable to hide the laughter in his voice. Soon it burst out and overflowed in an uncontrollable, shameless cackle. The whole situation was so absurd. Slightly offended by the inappropriate response, Mikey attacked him with soft fists and an embarrassed whine tinged with laughter, landing light blows against Donnie's arms as the purple-clad turtle tried to block the sloppy assault.
Somehow, mysteriously, 'being squished into a turtle pancake' no longer seemed like as big of a deal as Donnie's brain had made it to be. And Mikey was right, they were stronger now. Maybe it was okay to accept that they were all alive and well despite all of the what-ifs that could have happened—
The soft clink of broken porcelain against bare feet made the boys stop at their tracks. Donnie's laughter died down as he remembered the remnants of his coffee cup, now scattered across over the floor in pieces. Looking down, there were porcelain shards and coffee everywhere.
Mikey quickly drew back his fists, pulling them to his chest before following Donnie's gaze. A deep frown found its way to his face, and he crouched down to take a closer look at the damage.
"I'm sorry, Dee," Mikey apologised. "I shouldn't have gone so far. That was your second-favourite cup, wasn't it?"
It was, second only to his ugly Halloween mug that was nearly the size of a whole coffee pot (and hence his favourite). The delicate, purple cup with intricate golden accents had been a birthday present from Raph. It was the perfect cup for whenever Donnie needed a pick-me-up and wanted to feel extra fancy, and Raph had specifically warned him to be careful with it as it could break into very small and sharp pieces if dropped. When Mikey reached out a hand to pluck a shard of porcelain from the floor, Donnie jumped into action.
"Mikey, don't!" He exclaimed, crouching down to grab Mikey's wrist before the younger ninja could reach any of the broken pieces. Not only did he nearly lose his balance doing so, but the world also decided to pick that very moment to start spinning like the teacups at a carnival. Mikey stopped, quickly opening his arms to secure his toppling brother.
"Whoa, whoa," he said, a little breathy and surprised. "You okay, Donnie?"
He wasn't. Even in his brother's arms, it felt like he had been thrown into a washing machine. In fear of getting nauseous, Donnie pinched his eyes shut to avoid seeing the lab turn and spin.
"Don't touch the cup," he managed to muster. "Leave it, I'll take care of it."
With a stubborn huff, Mikey tightened his grip on Donnie. "You won't be taking care of anything else before you take care of yourself!"
Now it was Donnie's turn to huff and groan, but his little brother wasn't having any of it, standing up slowly to help Donnie up on his feet. Struggling to stand straight, Donnie stumbled, leaning heavily against Mikey. His body could've been made of concrete with how heavy and stiff it felt, and his legs buckled like he was drunk instead of tired. It was embarrassing, and Donnie tried to look away from Mikey who carefully pleaded, "Please? Nap with me?"
The same request as before, this time more earnest and with a hint of sadness. While Donnie had no idea why his little brother was so insistent on napping together, he couldn't deny him any longer. Even if he couldn't sleep, he could entertain Mikey's wishes by playing along. With a deep, dejected sigh, he folded up. "Okay. I'll nap with you. But just so that I can get some actual work done later."
The washing machine finally finished its run, allowing Donnie to open his eyes to a world that was no longer spinning at an unnatural pace. When he looked at Mikey, his eyes sparkled with excitement in a way the purple-clad turtle hadn't seen in a while.
"Really?!" The unfiltered joy that radiated from Mikey's voice made Donnie realise just how much distance he'd managed to put between himself and his family in the past month. His little brother shouldn't have been that happy to just nap with him. With a small smile, he confirmed, "Really."
---
While it felt wrong to leave a mess of shredded paper, porcelain and coffee behind, Donnie's brain was too fried to form any coherent objections as he was dragged out of the lab. The walk from the lab to his bedroom was a blur, dark hues of the lair blending together until the moment he was sat on his bed with the firm hold of Mikey's hands on his shoulders snapping him out of his drowsy stupor. He sat dazed as Mikey pulled the covers back and nudged him with a grin on his face. Like instinct, Donnie lied down and melted against the pillows. The soft mattress felt like heaven against his stiff and tired joints.
When he shut his eyes, he braced himself to feel the disappointment of wanting to pass out and being unable to do so, but unlike he'd expected, sleep started dragging him down immediately. No thoughts, no flashbacks, no nothing; just the steady pull of the tide towards dreamland. The exhaustion had finally reached its peak, and Donnie was so ready to just let go—
A soft cough made him open his eyes. Mikey stood next to the bed, fiddling with his fingers awkwardly like a small kid who'd come to seek comfort after a nightmare but not quite daring to ask for it.
After having been called a nuisance, it was no wonder he hesitated despite having the permission to climb in. The regret that Donnie knew he should've felt earlier started sneaking in, late to the party and uninvited yet not unwelcome. At least it was proof that he wasn't a monster who felt nothing for hurting his baby brother, even if it took a while for his feelings to sort themselves out. Mikey could be loud, annoying and too nosy at times, but Donnie wouldn't want him any other way.
Donnie lifted the covers as a quiet invitation. Mikey's eyes lit up and he climbed in, shuffling close and burying his face into Donnie's hoodie. Donnie felt the wide grin against his chest as he tucked Mikey in. With a satisfied little brother in his arms and the AC humming a beautiful symphony of white noise, Donnie was ready to try falling asleep again. But just as sweet oblivion was starting to sneak its way in, a thought blinked in the back of his mind. There was still something that he couldn't leave unaddressed.
"Hey, Mikey?" The tired slur in his voice came as a surprise to himself. A soft hum against his plastron let him know that Mikey was listening. "It was already way past your bedtime when you came to my lab. You never stay up that late unless something's going on."
Donnie felt his little brother's grin grow wider through the thick fabric. Though Mikey's voice was muffled when he spoke, Donnie could hear him loud and clear. "Dee, have you paid any attention to how much noise you make in the lair when you work at night?"
"...Oh." He certainly had not, and while his lab was soundproof, he did tend to mumble to himself and wander around the lair either in search of inspiration or the necessary tools for whatever he was working on. And Mikey was a light sleeper. "You could've just told me if I was bothering you," Donnie said.
"But if I did that, you would've just tried to work more quietly!" Mikey wrapped his arms and legs around Donnie like an overgrown (and ridiculously strong) koala bear. "You wouldn't have taken the time to rest. This way, I can make sure you're actually going to get some sleep!"
The grip tightened, and when Donnie looked down, he was met with the dark smile of Dr. Delicate Touch. "...And by doing so, I will also be able to get a proper night's sleep. It's been weeks since the last time I slept through the night, Donnie. Don't you dare move until morning or I will spike your coffee with melatonin."
With a gulp, the purple-clad turtle nodded, and just like that, the doctor was out, leaving behind a beaming baby brother. Mikey's voice was light as he gave Donnie a challenge, "If you sleep like a proper, functional 'member of society', I'll reward you with the best breakfast you've had since we moved lairs!"
Like a spell, images of bacon and scrambled eggs invaded Donnie's mind, heaping plates covering blueprints and hot coffee spilling until the papers were unintelligible. Strangely, the thought of it made the genius smile. "If you best yourself yet again," he started, voice fading and his words becoming a slurred mess as Mikey's intentionally slow, deep breaths lulled him to sleep. "You'll spoil this family rotten."
There was no more room for fear. The bed was warm and Mikey was safe in his arms. The bright laughter of his little brother was the last thing Donnie heard before he was dragged down into a syrup-tinted dream of never-ending buffet tables.
And when morning came, he was woken up by that very same laughter and the weight of a breakfast tray, complete with pancakes topped with strawberries.
If he was to ever be recognised for his work, he'd have to make sure Mikey was credited as well. And for so much more than just his brilliant ideas.