Emotionless Bad Boy Has Emotions, Gasp, We Are Incredibly Surprised
AO3 link
Summary: Donnie doubts whether he actually cares for his brothers or not. Minor meltdown ensues. Leo fixes it.
Donnie burst into the wreck room. “Mikey!”
“Donaldo,” Mikey said. He was sitting on the bottom of the skate ramp, drawing pad resting on his knees, scribbling away with his tongue between his teeth.
Donnie loomed over him, wires stretching from his hands. “I need your brainwaves.”
“Okay!”
Perfect, Mikey was too deep in The Zone to care. Donnie attached the neurofeedback headset around Mikey’s head and began tapping on his vambrace. Two metal arms emerged from his backpack and began taking additional measurements with a series of infrared scanners.
“Baseline established. Now think very deeply about something you cherish.”
Mikey’s smile widened. “I cherish this sketch of Jones and his new puppy. Todd gave him Mr. Shnuffles! Aren’t they adorable together?”
“That’s a matter of op– why are your hands shaking?”
Mikey blinked up at him. “They’re not, though? Look!” He held up his right hand.
Donnies eyes narrowed and another metal arm burst from his battle shell, equipped with a standard ruler (metric system only, of course, he wasn’t a heathen). “The whisps of fur you have drawn around the incomparable Mr. Shnuffles are spaced with a variance of .4 mm instead of your usual .2-.3. Therefore I repeat: Why are your hands shaking?”
Mikey pouted and curled more tightly around his drawing pad. “They’re not shaking! They’re fine!”
Donnie grabbed a wrist and held it up for inspection. “Are you implying my braces are subpar craftsmanship, or did you forget to ice again?”
“I didn’t forget, I’ll do it when I’m done!”
A fourth arm extended with an electronic screen at the end. It was a color-coded schedule with his brother’s faces along the side. Mikey’s row was highlighted. The text beside it read: ICE HANDS –2HR 15MIN.
“HMMMM?!”
“Okay, geez!” Mikey yanked his hand away. “I said I’d ice and I meant it!”
“Ice in ten minutes or I’ll sic Leo on you.”
“Get your wires off me or I’ll hack your ReadIt account and start a canonically inaccurate argument about Atomic Lass.”
“My account requires facial recognition but my scans are complete anyway.”
Donnie removed the headset with a touch more haste than was really necessary and walked briskly towards the kitchen. According to the schedule, Leonardo should be – ah, yes, pouring himself a bowl of Marshmallow Charms and stealing Raph’s entire leftover pizza. Hands full, Leo closed the fridge with his foot and caught sight of Donnie behind it. He grinned, a slice of stolen pizza already in his mouth.
“Gonna snitch, Tellonius?”
“Hardly, I am hear for what little brainwaves you possess.”
“Har, har. Now if you’ll excuse me –”
Leo turned to walk past him. But Donnie had already deployed his battle shell. It dropped from the ceiling, clamped its metal arms around him, and spun him into the nearest chair. Leo shrieked and clutched desperately for the bowl, dropping the pizza.
“Hey hey HEY! Donnie what the shell?”
“Supercilious smirk. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you get your pizza.”
“I – wait, you’re not wearing – let me check your shell!” Leo started squirming, this time in eagerness.
Donnie rolled his eyes and turned his back. The battle shell took the headset out and slipped it over Leo’s head while a second arm made the additional scans. The bottom two arms weren’t really needed as restraints at this point. Donnie settled in a crouch in front of Leo. The self-assigned medic set his bowl aside, free hand already running along the edges of the shell.
“Still springy…plates feel the same…watch that cut, feel it? Here. You might need a new liner on the battle shell. You’re skipping vitamins again, don’t argue, just take them. Anything bothering you?”
“I feel it, I’ll make one, fine, and no. Now think of something you cherish.”
Leo opened his mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, and the battle shell’s third arm shoved a piece of pizza into it. Leo’s eyes lit up and he chewed happily. He leaned back when he was done with the examination. The battle shell removed itself accordingly.
Leo scooped up the bowl of Charms and inspect it for tampering. “Huh. Nada. Must be a pretty important experiment you got going, huh? Do I wanna know?”
“You don’t and you know it.”
“Does Raph want to know?”
Donnie considered. “Unlikely. Although I’m sure you want to know that Mikey is two hours late to ice his hands, despite an implied promise to do so ten minutes ago.”
Leo’s eyes sharpened and he spun on the bowl on one finger. “Nice doin’ business with you, Donito.”
He strolled out of the kitchen, whistling. Donnie resettled the Battle Shell on his back and scooped the pizza off the floor, sans the slice he’d given Leo. Then he made for Raph’s hobby room. It was an even bet he’d find Raph there, given that he hadn’t been doing weights in the Wreck Room and it was too early to leave for Build-A-Beaver’s Sunday Special.
Sure enough, Raph was sitting at his GeniusBuilt™ Sewing Machine, making what looked like a ballgown for the future beaver stuffie.
“Hold still and continue thinking of beavers,” Donnie commanded. He pulled the headset to its maximum width.
Raph looked up and brightened. “Donnie! Thanks for the sewing machine! Raph’s hands can rethread it with no problem now.”
“Obviously. Everything I make is customized.” He snapped the headsets around Raph’s remarkably thick skull.
Raph rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it sound creepy. We don’t even know when you take our measurements.”
“I work in mysterious ways. Now go back to thinking of plush fake animals.”
“Oh, that reminds me – here!” Raph reached behind the machine and pulled out a stuffed Atomic Lass. It was well-loved by Donnie’s standards, nearly unblemished except for the end of one hair triangle where he had stim chewed as a child. The gash along one arm had been seamlessly repaired, and –
Donnie gasped. “Her classic atom logo has been replaced by my very own trademark?!”
“You like it?” Raph said eagerly. “I wasn’t sure, but the stitching was pretty easy to pull out, and the mascot alien was such a jerk, I wanted to make it up to you.”
“ ‘Make it up?!’ Sir! I got to dance with my childhood idol and now I have a one-of-a-kind edition Atomic Lass that is inspiring a multitude of self-insert AUs as we speak!”
“So that’s a yes?”
“I will buy you the next ten Beaver Specials, here’s my card, I gotta go!”
He all but threw his platinum at Raph’s plastron. He scooped up the doll and rushed out of the room. Luckily his Battle Shell had been taking scans – oh, Fibonacci, he’d forgotten to prompt Raph about the cherishing – whatever, he’d still taken scans and he could redo them later. Redoing them would probably be best for a larger sample size anyway.
He sprinted to his lab and slammed the door behind him. The lab lit up upon entry, scanned his face, and withdrew the lasers. Fine, yes, good, he had work to do! He scrambled to offload the data from his battle shell, fingers flying across the keys. Some of the data had been duplicated already to his cloud, but he needed to feed them into a few cutting-edge programs he’d copied and improved from the largest neuroscience research centers. Of course they’d needed improvement, they didn’t have his own incredible brain to edit them. And they were meant for humans, not turtles.
It would take at least ten minutes for the scans to run, perfect for his own tests. He tore off his goggles and shoved the headset over his own head. Then he cracked his knuckles.
“Giddy laughter!” he hissed, grinning widely has his six fingers flew across the keys. His Battle Shell had placed the doll front and center before the screen, and the text behind her made her purple skin glow. What perfect ambience! The newly-outlawed Atomic Lass was about to meet post-apocalyptic Don of Tell, and what a wonderful adventure they would have!
It was 3 AM.
Leo sighed and peeled off his eye mask. Well, he tried. He’d went to sleep just fine that night (thank you, perfect skin routine) but he’d woken up about an hour ago. He’d put on one of his favorite sleep playlists. It hadn’t helped and he was bored.
He rolled over and eyed his library. He’d been rebuilding it since their last lair (last two lairs, actually) got destroyed. It had a few comics and some medical texts. He’d stolen a couple from Draxum’s library, just for the satisfaction, but they were some decent reads. He rolled to his feet and grabbed one. Then he made his way over to Donnie’s lab.
He expected Donnie to be awake. Statistically speaking, someone in the family had to be awake by choice at this hour. It was an unspoken rule that neither one of them would rat the other out to Raph for being up. Leo wanted the company. Donnie wanted easy access to a willing lab rat. It was a good system.
Leo reached the lab and slid the door open.
He went on instant alert. He wasn’t even sure why. The lab looked normal. All major devices were charging, obnoxious synth music was playing, and Donnie was hunched over a screen reading very tiny text. Normal.
“Donnie?” Leo asked slowly, stepping towards him.
Donnie didn’t answer. Leo heard it when he got closer. Donnie was wearing the weird headset thing from earlier, and one claw was absently scraping the metal. Except that Donnie’s claw kept going past the metal and into his skin. Leo caught his wrist.
“Heeeey, there, Donathon. Don the Tron. You wanna get a different scratching post?”
“I can’t tell if it’s real.”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“Nothing. Go away.”
Donnie didn’t quite jerk his wrist, but he moved away firmly and started tapping at the keyboard.
Oh. Alright. Leo set the book down and leaned over the screen. Donnie was so out of it that he didn’t even try to bite. It was definitely brain scan stuff, and a bunch of analysis on fluctuating neurotransmitter levels. Part of Leo was starting to salivate. This sort of scan was a medic’s dream. Perfect instantaneous records of the central nervous system.
“Whose scan is that?” Leo asked eagerly, leaning forward.
“Raph’s. See? Dopamine, norepinephrine, all normal – here’s yours – and Mikey’s – and here’s mine.” There was a weird emphasis to his voice when Donnie brought up his own. Leo leaned in closer and Donnie sat back. Another warning ping. So Leo checked the scans very carefully.
“It looks good,” he said finally. “You wanna tell me what your doohicky was measuring?”
Donnie gave a weird laugh. “My next project, apparently! I need to rewire a few loose axons! I can’t tell if it’s real!”
He stood up and started pacing. Leo hopped up on the computer table for a good sit. Or a good show. Both? Probably both.
“I can’t, I can’t tell if it’s real, but it is and I can’t tell, I don’t have evidence, I can’t conclude based on a vacuum, maybe I just think it’s real but it’s never been real and I’ve been a fraud all this time!”
“A fraud,” Leo said flatly. He meant it sarcastically, but Donnie flinched.
“I wasn’t trying to be!”
“I know, you can’t lie to save your shell.” Leo jerked a thumb at the machine. “You wanna explain, or – ahp-up-up!” He reached out to catch Donnie’s wrist again. “Nah, sorry, medic on duty and I am legally allowed to shove you in the bathtub to cool off. I might do it anyway, it’s pretty funny when you’re pissed.”
“I’m not mad! I’m – I can’t – I wasn’t trying to lie but I can’t tell if I actually love you!”
…Huh. Okay, Leo was kind of used to Donnie throwing curveballs in the wee hours of the morning, because both of their brains were screwy in different ways. Leo’s brain tended to lean towards intrusive thoughts, while Donnie went down conspiracy rabbit holes. (That was how they’d ended up with Pizzasaurus Rex.)
This was new. Mostly because it was painfully obvious. Which meant Donnie had thought his big brain into a corner and couldn’t find a way out.
Donnie, one hand still in Leo’s grasp, was rapidly typing on his vambrace. The computer screen lit up behind him and Leo turned. Clips of him and his brothers were playing, all moments where Donnie had given them stuff. Skateboards, high-tech washing machines with built-in speakers, a hot chocolate maker that doubled as a moist towelette dispenser. Leo wondered if the shock collar was in there.
“I developed my social relationships with you and our brethren with the understanding that acts of service were an acceptable ‘love language.’ But I recently discovered that the proponent of the entire concept was actually a ploy by a minister to manipulate his wife into accepting abuse. In fact, one could safely say that every form of social interaction is a form of manipulation, even if the intent is entirely benign.
“And my intents were benign! Mostly! I have consistently prepared gifts with the intention of improving everyone’s abilities and-or quality of life. Except –” Ah, yep, there was the shock collar. And the flying laser-equipped microwave. And the AI bed. Leo grimaced. “They sometimes, maybe…backfired. Wildly. Even Shelldon, my greatest creation and favorite son, endangered the lives of the very people I was supposed to ‘love.’
“So do I really love you? Any of you? Or were all of these a pathetic, shallow attempt to stroke my own ego and flaunt my brilliance? What if all of this was a way to manipulate you into admiring and caring about me? Even if I tell myself I meant to do good, not evil, what if I’m actually trying to manipulate myself, and I have never loved anyone at all?”
There was a weird silence when Donnie stopped speaking. At some point, the synth music had shut off.
Okay. So. It was a bit too late-slash-early for full Leo alertness, but he got the gist. Donnie was afraid he didn’t really love them.
Leo tapped the screen. “I kind of think you caring this much answers your question.”
“No it doesn’t!” Donnie snapped. “I could just be afraid of recognizing my own manipulative tendencies as a means of preserving my self-identity.”
“You think you’re still lying to yourself?” Leo translated. “My guy, my twin, I cannot overstate this enough: You cannot lie for shit.”
“I don’t have proof.” His tone had gone weirdly flat. His nails scraped along the vambrace, a quiet metallic protest.
“So you scanned our brains to see what love looks like, and if you have it.”
“But the scans I made while writing fanfiction, and the scans I made when thinking about you, are almost identical. There is no significant difference.”
“You literally let me look at your shell. You hate doing that.”
“I was bribing you.”
“You sicced me on Mikey.”
“He…implied by braces were inefficient.”
“What did you do for Raph?”
“Nothing! He fixed my doll so I gave him money! It was so – so cheap!”
Leo sort of wanted to beg Donnie to stop looking at him like that. He looked like he was in agony.
Okay, actually no, Leo couldn’t look at that face anymore. He got up, planted a hand on that big old brain, and shoved his brother down onto his emergency cot. Donnie gave a muffled squeak but the emergency cot was basically Donnie’s full-time bed, complete with all his favorite blankets. Leo was wrapping him up with the skill of a Raph in full mother-henning mode. Then he flipped Donnie onto his stomach and flopped on top of his shell.
“’Eo!” Donnie shouted, muffled through the pillow.
“Nope.” Leo tapped his brothers head a little too sharply to be gentle. “No more brain privileges. I’m shutting it off.”
“Oh, so the medic is proposing brain damage as a solution, is that it?!”
“It’s a good thing I got you wrapped up, you look like you’re gonna bite me.” Leo’s tone was light but oh boy did he mean it.
Donnie shot him a death glare. “You’re gonna say something stupid and pithy and assume I’ll let the subject drop. Alas, I will not! My intense need for closure has only dug these neural paths all the deeper! I will return to this issue time and time again until I am sure it is resolved!”
“What will be your proof either way?”
“I…don’t know yet. I need more data! Leo! You’re the medic, you have to help me!”
“Okay,” Leo said simply. “You love us, it’s conclusive, problem solved.”
“What? No! You have to prove it!”
Leo poked him. “There. I can see the neuron that says, ‘I love my beautiful twin and will not bite him.’ It’s glowing like a little dinoflagellate, look at it, all sparkly.”
“I hate you,” Donnie growled. Then it seemed to register and tears sprang to his eyes.
Leo smiled. “See?”
“I could…I could just be feeling regret for sabotaging my social standing with you.”
“Because you value me,” Leo said. Then he grinned. “You big ol’ sap.”
“I could value you because –”
“‘I may not be a smart man,’ “ Leo quoted. “‘But I know what love is.’”
Tears streaked down Donnie’s face. They both knew what Donnie was thinking, and he was trying very hard not to say it, but eventually he cracked.
“You’re not a smart man,” he muttered.
Leo looked at his three-fingered hand. “By Jove, I think you’re right! But!” He poked Donnie’s head again. “I am your twin, and this time I’m smarter, and you loooooove me. And your real fear is that you think we hate you.”
“I would never,” Donnie whispered.
“That’s because…” Leo punctuated every word with a poke. “You are a smart man, Donatello Hamato Splinterson, and you know what love is, too.”
Donnie sniffed. “I knew you were gonna say something dumb and pithy.”
“I did not, I simply quoted someone dumb and pithy. Any dumbness is entirely not my fault. Now go to sleep. I am suddenly conveniently tired and need my favorite pillow.”
“You suck, go die.”
“You’re so dumb,” Leo said fondly, and didn’t move an inch.
