Is there a chance to write about shy, introvert reader?
My cup of tea but that just me.
- Chocolate anon 🍫
Hey, we all got our tastes!
I was actually discussing this for my next fic (which I have not started and have no idea how to squeeze in with Weak Spot happening), but my next reader was also going to be the one who falls first. I was worried I was re-treading the same thing over and over.
I'd have to really sit back and thing how a shy, introverted reader drive a story. It'll be an interesting exercise though I can't promise that anything would come of it!
Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety
Synopsis: You've lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?
Also available on Ao3
You could do this.
Shuffling awkwardly, you hoped in vain that you were giving off an air of confident impatience instead of the frayed nerves for being first in line. This was your night. You had been mentally preparing for it for literal decades in the sense that time was unrelenting. With your 30s approaching as an end to the supposed fun era, it felt like a race to pack in the life you had yet to live.
If that life was eating an endless amount of pasta.
The business you were currently occupying, to some, was something that could be easily sold at a fast casual dining establishment. For you, the space was one you dreamed about and never had the courage to attend for its intended purpose. Unlike the mass produced images of endless salad and bread sticks, this place held a certain notoriety. From your online research, it also happened to be a chain of sorts, but you couldn’t fault it for that. It embellished each of its handful of locations with local culture. Each was wholly unique when it came to its eateries and, in fact, the only thing they shared in common was their grocery section.
A sort of one-stop-shop in that sense, it was an indoor Italian marketplace settled down nicely right in New York. A place already known for such things, it refined that quality as it was forced too by catering to the roots of its clientele. You could get goods shipped straight from their mother country here without excessive fees.
Along one wall there was a never ending cold case of delicacies that transformed into a butcher and then an entire café. It was along here, on your first and only other trip here, that you’d failed to launch. You’d been skittish after not being able to tell which of the four registers you were supposed to approach to order a pastry. Each stretching on a mile, but none actually near the sweets case, you’d given up flaky delights on that alone.
If you couldn’t manage to buy a bombolone, how were you going to order at one of the restaurants?
Making a mockey of the supposedly confusing counter, the dining area was an open floor plan. As far as your one trip had taken you, the seats were scattered and you still had no idea which actually correspond with the five unique food stalls to choose from. What you did know was the multitude of nightmares laid out. If you asked to be seated, you’d waffle about where to choose. If you sat yourself, who’s to say you didn’t pick the wrong place. There were then a number of conversations to be had with the waiter and you were always a sucker when they started pedaling specials. Even when you didn’t want them, it was so hard to say no when you knew it was their task for the evening to sell, sell, sell. You’d be stuck with something you didn’t want to eat, but you couldn’t be wasteful which meant you’d have to come up with an excuse all while also somehow gathering a to-go box without knowing if they actually stocked those. Even if that wasn’t the case, there was still a menu to navigate and eat what was sure to be a messy dish without making yourself out to be some toddler that never learned how to hold a fork right; the chances were abysmal. It was all too much.
Too imposing.
Too taxing.
Too overwhelming.
There was supposed to be a saying.
With age comes wisdom…
Except no one else ever remembered what else Oscar Wilde said.
… but sometimes age comes alone.
Words written specifically for you. You refused to hit that milestone with nothing to show for it. You weren’t living your life, so you had a life yet lived. You weren’t dead, so you could keep going. You would continue to stalk places on social media, never quite ready to brave the crowds, until a targeted ad had come your way.
Pasta fest.
It was being held here, at the hub you had run from early one Saturday morning. The moment you saw the copy, you had bolted upright in bed. Your roommates being the only reason why you hadn’t cried out, you immediately dove into research. It had been held many times before and was something you looked over like a widow pressed to wet window panes. That meant there was a trail. Following the breadcrumbs brought reviews and more social media of smiling people yammering on in electronic voice dubs about how much cacio e pepe they had consumed. You looked long and hard, but all the evidence said this event was doable if you came at the right time.
You planned to be here twice as early as that as there were rumbling mentions of a free pasta making class. Purchasing the modestly priced ticket considering the offer, you nearly immediately were struck with a panic attack. The momentary euphoria of being the first to buy up the usually sold out tickets robbed you of your excuse. You usually wrote these things off because you allowed the chance to be robbed from you. Now you’d turned that chance into a sure thing and trapped yourself.
What if you had to leave early?
What if they all watched you?
What if you slurped pasta and a noodle slapped you in the face?
What if you knocked over the big tub of marinara and it soaked a rich woman’s white dress?
You’d never be able to pay off that kind of debt with your administrator’s salary.
Cowering down and not able to sleep for hours after, you had the gloom of several weeks until the event proper. It gave you enough time to go through all seven stages of grief amongst a few new ones you wanted to write in to someone to add to the list. They always did neglect anxiety and you were tired of the erasure.
Though you wished often you could erase it yourself.
All in all, you’d almost backed out right up until the moment you walked through the double doors. Now here, they’d come to a close and the smells of Italian cooking told your hungry stomach that you should stay. Able to give in to a basal emotion like that, you followed the little printed signs to a check-in desk. There you found, to your horror, two employees who opened with how new they were and how they had no idea what they were doing. Not thankful at all for their honesty, you watched on hopelessly as the many short form videos you watched meant you were more familiar with the process than them.
With no way of conveying this or that they simply needed to print out the class signup sheet and give you a wristband so you could go find a dark corner to hide out in until the event started proper, you simply waited, shuffling off to the side for the pair to figure that out themselves. Listening to them field calls and then more guests that walked up, you silently mourned your first place spot as a unit of off-duty mothers cut right in front of you. You didn’t blame them; there was no way they could have known. You did act as a wallflower next to a display of capers. You were a little salty nugget yourself, not that they’d ever know. They were too busy going on about Bishop this and Coxin that.
Out of order, the wristbands were located first. Passing them out as you were now at least ninth in line and wondering if you’d get into the pasta making class, you got one to slip on and rubbed at the dull powder coating it. The sign of new rubber, the store’s name was emblazoned on the colors of the Italian flag. A cute trinket that said you were there, you tugged on its loose hang until you heard a printer going. Perking up, but not moving, the workers chatted with a young couple. They seemed to have misplaced their ticket so you deemed them not a threat.
Waiting with more of a dancing shuffle, you imagined you probably looked like you had to go to the bathroom. In reality, several people had trailed off, so your only competition for the sign-up sheet was that group of moms who were prowling right in front of you. They were the lions and you were the scavenger. You could only pick clean the bones they’d leave behind. A miserable role and one you wished you were strong enough to circumvent, your arrival time hadn’t mattered in the slightest.
Eyes widening at the thought, you felt your heart sink.
What were you doing?
This wasn’t brave.
This wasn’t the new you.
This was accepting what you always had.
You had merely taken one step forward before retreating ten back.
Across from you in what felt like an entire sea, the two girls set out the sign-up sheet before turning to grab a pen.
In slow motion, you saw the alpha mother step forward to claim the juiciest bite.
Trapped no matter your thoughts, you resigned yourself.
You would still get pasta. There was no reason to give up on the entire night. Little comforts blinked a flashlight on in the darkness of your mind. You’d still done it. You were here. You were going to get that pasta. While the restaurants were closed for the event, the grocer was still operating at normal hours. Crowds were pulled simply because this was a trendy place to go. You were here at peak hours and not currently having a panic attack. You hadn’t given into a single one of those meddling thoughts about giving up.
“Excuse me…”
You’d opened the doors and entered which was something you couldn’t say about other outings. There was that hand pulled noodle place that you walked up to just last week. They didn’t have delivery which meant dining in was your only option. It had taken months in general and hours of prep for you to take the subway over. Once in the vicinity, the battle down the packed street had been treacherous, so when you finally saw the sign, you kept walking.
“Um.”
With tears in your eyes, you had passed by the line and the front door. You couldn’t bear the thought of traversing anything else. You wouldn’t survive waiting that close to others. The thought of loitering and then being called upon was your worst nightmare. If you by some miracle made it inside, there would then be the biting guilt. There was no way you’d be able to peruse the menu knowing so many people were waiting. Each second you ate up was another someone else could have used for their order.
“You!”
Heart leaping straight into your throat, you crashed back into the pasta shop and stared as one of the employees fended off the moms by laying her whole hand on top of the sign up sheet.
She was pointing a pen in your direction.
You looked over your shoulder.
She laughed.
Looking back, you could only muster the barest raise of your hand to point at yourself.
“Yes, you! You were here first, come on over!” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.
If they sent you an online survey, you were going to recommend her for employee of the month.
Bestowing upon her the highest honors, you scarcely heard her titter some details. Seeing the calculated amount of lines for two separate classes, you reached out and realized the pen had somehow gotten into your hand. Not remembering taking it, it had its own power as you led it towards the first line. Triple checking to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong. You marked your first name in the first column, followed by your last name in the second. All that was required, you did two final examinations before placing the pen delicately to the side and all, but running away.
The mom’s clicked their tongues as they moved to sign-up next and you mourned that you’d never actually gotten to thank the goddesses that worked here. Planning now your goodbye with an extra little thanks peppered onto it, you were given free roam of the store until the festivities started. Folding your hands behind your back and thumbing your wristband that you kept in some view at all times, you walked around the dry goods. Between shelves you got a glimpse of the closest station where someone in a chef’s coat was sautéing with a pan three times the size of a wok.
It reminded you that there was a map you didn’t have and you cursed yourself to backtrack and get it. Thinking a little too late that this might be the opportunity to thank the employees, they were blessedly busy as you looked over the area anew. Amongst the other leaflets you had dismissed when looking for the signup sheet, you soon found the little card specifically for this event. Waiting long enough to look around in case you weren’t supposed to take one, there was no one to scold you so you chanced sticking your hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
An actual adult, no scorn came and you scampered back to the safety of dried pastas before looking over your prize. Just as described, it had today’s date embezzled on it and you wanted to squeeze the thing to your chest. Another marking of this milestone, you fished around for the pen you had brought just for this occasion. A simple, but sturdy one, you’d already written off borrowing another as you couldn’t face the shame of perhaps nicking it. Instead you slid the clip over the card in a way you imagined a journalist might. Ready to take notes at a moment’s notice, you turned the card over to find a scenic map of the store on the other side.
Nearly weeping at the first sign of forethought, you spent the next 15 minutes comparing that to the landscape. Finding it quite accurate, you logged the information about the station order and decided to do them as their numbers supposedly intended. Time coming up, you measured your steps on the way to the first stop in hopes of reaching it exactly on time. Imagining you looked very silly walking in slow motion, there was thankfully no one else around you as you hit the table one exactly one minute before the dinner bell rang.
The chef there was dolling out easy to grab portions and passed you half a glance. “Go on. It’s fresh!”
Bowing your head as words wouldn’t form, you caught a boat and ran with it. Finding safety in a little nook beside a deli case, you appreciate the little wooden fork it came with. Stabbing the first pasta, you melted dreamily over the flavor and the joy of this moment. A culmination of many things, your next few bites were taken with a surprising furiosity. Then came a thoughtful pause, before you finally finished up your dish. Thinking long on how you’d notate this, you trashed the container and returned to write it up. Taking your time so as not to ruin your precious mapped artifact, you smiled proudly at your quaint review before moving to the next station.
Knocking out five in this way and at your leisure, you were in your own little parmesan slice of heaven. Not everything was perfect, but in a way it was. Finding a whole medley of flavors, even the overcooked gnocchi had a charm to it. It falling apart showed that not even these seasoned chefs were perfect and it made you curious about the logistics of making large batches. Probably not how their recipes intended, you spent a long time watching one chef from a safe distance as they simmered their sauce. The couple you had seen earlier were standing nearby in clear irritation that he hadn’t finished on time, but you found it delightful.
He knew what it took to do it right and he didn’t care what anyone else thought.
Wishing that very much for yourself, you felt a little blip from your phone and went to unearth it. One you’d made before this night started, it showed a notification that you could safely head towards the pasta making station if you got in and you mentally thanked past you. Turning the alarm off, you checked your map before finding the class was on the far end of the store you had not yet explored. Sneaking over there even though you were leaving the crowd, you soon found a giant glass door that encased what looked like a studio.
A floor to ceiling affair, it took all your body weight to get the door open.
Straining in silence, you made enough of a hole to get through before you rushed in. Immediately spinning around to catch the thing, you found the door was on a closer and its mechanism saved the weight from slamming. Watching it drift closed, you had a momentary panic that it might have been tough to open because you weren’t actually allowed in here yet. Spinning around to send your apologies somewhere, you were taken aback by the space.
Clean and looking very much like a movie set kitchen, there were 4 huge butcher block tables all flanked by multiple manual pasta makers. Each station was then marked off with two deli containers and a fork. Obvious that it was two people to a machine and eight people to a table, the plastic tubs held the ingredients. With one a mix of flour and the other a lonely egg, the latter appeared to be contained so it wouldn’t roll away.
Unconsciously moving forward at the care placed into each setting, you heard a pan move at the back of the room. There, behind a gorgeous counter where multiple cameras were proudly taking paparazzi photos from its angles, moved a telltale white chef’s coat. The hump of a back rolled before a bright orange bow appeared keeping hair out of their face. They rounded a turn and you were blinded by a huge grin.
“Welcome! You’re the first so sit tight while everyone else gets here!”
Sunshine.
This man was the embodiment of sunshine if you ever saw it.
He was sheer radiance.
A glowing magnificence that was moving kitchenware around.
Setting a tub with the telltale powdering that said it once contained all the flour now doled out, every move he made embodied a warm confidence you could barely comprehend.
In the few seconds you’d been staring, he was the most poised person you’d ever seen.
Feeling your gaze, he looked at you properly.
His grin then fell.
Eyes going huge at the sight, you scrambled mentally for the cause.
He was looking right at it.
You’d messed up.
“Ah…” His voice held a solemn note.
Disappointment struck you like a tide. It caught your feet and dragged you under. Suffocating on it, you could feel the whirlpool contort your face. Ugly features falling with a water’s rush to muffle any sound, you simply gaped at him with ever growing misery.
He took that in a similar way. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
You inhaled sharply and the sound thudded as it slashed your ear drums.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He exhaled a little heavier with the memory. “If you changed your mind about the class I understand. You can go. It doesn’t have to be a thing, but I can get my manager on the phone if it is.”
The worst part was even though he hadn’t said it; you knew exactly what he was referring to.
You wanted to sob, but you’d filled your tear ducts mistakenly with air.
Ballooned, the gas was also the only thing keeping your head afloat as you continued to gape.
Your jaw ached from the force of you resisting to scream.
You couldn’t manage a peep.
All you wanted to convey was that your reaction had nothing to do with him.
You didn’t care that he was a mutant.
In fact, you hardly noticed.
How could he not know?
The way he carried himself was something that must be praised.
You imagined everyone who came into his orbit had to stop and stare.
You wanted to grovel in appreciation at the mere glimpse you’d been offered.
You should have known you wouldn’t be allowed happiness.
There was no night of glory for you.
Only this.
“You’re still here so… you should know-” He looked wistful as he opened a cupboard and pulled out a new, filled flour bin “-I adore cooking.” With grace, he placed the container onto the table along with a scale. “It’s an art. You can do it with thought or by feeling. Both are so great, but you know what I love most?”
Teary eyed only from not blinking, you tried to shake your head.
“I love the joy it brings.” With a few fluffy scoops, he got out what he needed into a bowl.
Joy?
This being brought joy simply by existing and he had the audacity to want to give more?
Who was he?
Who had you stumbled upon?
Glancing back at the large doors, you came to realize just how quiet the space was. Their large thick glass panes completely muffled the cacophony you knew was beyond them. In here, there was a silent symphony of mostly scents long soaked into the woods telling tasty tales. Away from the buzz of the establishment was a haven. It was a place of learning in a library-like sense and you thought you could spend a lifetime in here.
If only it were taught by him.
The thought carried you a few steps to face him fully.
In front of you, he had mounded his flour just so before carving out a well. “I started small, you know; inspired by my brothers. I have a big family, but for a long time it was just the four of us…” He adjusted, looking up at the camera mounted above his perfect powdery well. “Well excluding me… or including? Four kids!” He chuckled.
You hadn’t realized you reached the other side of the counter until your fingers brushed the wood; you were drawn to him.
“Dad did his best to feed us, but he wasn’t much of a cook. I guess that’s the thing about how we grew up though. Living on scraps, you’ll never believe the stuff people throw away!” He gave a happy chuff before moving to turn on two large screens mounted on the wall. “Found a cookbook and I could say the rest was history, but it’s always more than that. You know how it goes, get trained under this big lineage to protect humanity, save the world a few times, then try to follow your cooking dreams and, oh yeah, you’re still a turtle!” He gave a sort of chuckle.
You looked on and watched as his flour mound appeared in triscopy.
“The amount of places I was banned from just because they thought I’d give the customers salmonella!” He waited for your eye so he could exaggerate a grimace.
It wiped you clean of sadness and primed the board for something new.
How was he doing this?
Your chest tightened as you refused to give up your distress. Not because he wanted it gone; he was doing a good job of that. Instead, you were faced with how badly you needed to rectify your wronging this situation. Him telling you his story was something you wanted to cherish, but you couldn’t focus. Not when knowing he was trying to absolve you of guilt. There was no way you could do that to this selfless man.
“My older bro… One of them I mean. I’m the youngest! Anyway, he ran some tests so I could be like, here’s proof, fool! No bacteria on this turtle!” He straightened and did a last review of his set up before remembering something and going to the fridge. “Was still tough. I couldn’t even find a dishwashing gig, so I stopped looking for a job and instead went to places that were mutant friendly just to be around food.” One of his wrists flapped out of the fridge in a way that signified he wanted something.
You looked around wondering if he wanted you to grab whatever it was.
“Took a class!” He emerged with a large egg carton. “Here, I mean. More than one too! T-o-o and not the number. I kinda took, more like… all of them!” He chirped, setting the container down.
You felt a premature noise sound in your throat and you pushed against the counter to hold yourself back.
“Got the cold shoulder still. Sometimes trendy places say they’re hip, but they aren’t. They’d ignore me, but they couldn’t ignore everyone so I just watched whatever they were doing over there.” He pointed to a far butcher block. “Then one night, same as all the others, I happened to get a different chef. He treated everyone equally and he noticed something in me.” Softening, he slowed. “I remember going up to him after and asking why? Why did he make my dish the focal point? Tell everyone what a good job I did! Wasn’t he worried?”
You hated that this man had to worry at all.
“He was a gruff guy! Not big, but like-” He squared his shoulders and made a stern expression with his chest thrown forward. “’Doesn’t matter who you are, son.I saw the spark. Just matters you wanna learn!’” He held the pose for a few seconds before breaking down into laughter. “Good times… Anyway, he fast tracked me into a position and I ate it up! I learned so much! I worked every single station in this place! I can make you a latte right now with the art and everything! Or…” He gave into another laugh, this one more dismissive. “Enough about me. I’ve just been going on and on. Sorry about that.”
You watched as he dusted his hands off from the flour he’d long formed and walked over to you.
“The name’s Michelangelo. I hope you’ll stay. Maybe I convinced you?” Puncturing his introduction with a wink, you stuttered.
“T-t-t-t-thank you!” Your head flew southward as you gave a bow. Your whole body screaming of humiliation for it, something else squeaked out of you. “I-I r-really w-wanted to t-take y-your c-class!!”
His following laughter was such a belly full that you felt warmed by it.
Coming back up, you found him resisting wiping an eye.
“Well, what’dya know?! Good!”
Staring hard at the floor your mind raged because that wasn’t what you wanted to say.
You were supposed to tell him that it didn’t matter that he was a mutant, but then you’d have to tell him how in awe you were of his person.
That felt equally bad.
Cursing your demeanor, you rose in a feeble attempt to try anything again.
The words falling out as you came up, you scrambled to catch them and say even a paltry portion of what you’d originally meant to say.
You didn’t hate mutants.
He was too kind.
You were a coward.
That felt like a safe set.
None of those things emerged as you realized he’d peg you for a fraud.
He’d think he wasted all that time trying to convince you.
What did you know?
You told him you wanted to take his class.
You didn’t know him.
You’d only wanted to take the class because it sounded fun.
The best extent of your knowledge was leaving cooking videos on while you did chores.
You didn’t know anything.
You were a waste of space.
Maybe those mom’s should have gotten the top spot.
Maybe you shouldn’t have arrived early to even bother.
You were greedy.
You should have taken your pasta and been happy with that.
Fizzling out as you were swallowed whole, you heard the volume in the room shift.
It was the telltale movement of the door opening, revealing the many sounds hidden away. Someone entered and Michelangelo moved to greet them with the same cheer he’d bestowed upon you. It seemed apropos as you feebly wobbled over to a station. The light he’d shined on you wasn’t one fine tailored. You hadn’t been that narcissistic, but for a small moment it felt like it could have been yours. That maybe, he could have seen that little spark of you trying to do better and wanted to encourage it.
Squashing that hopeful part of you into a paste under your shoe, more and more people started to filter in. Greetings and talk came with it and fell to a background noise that helped quell your thoughts. Not completely silent, but at least static, you heard a tinkling of glass that pulled your attention.
The moms had evolved into their next form: wine moms. In which they were already drunk, but thankfully took their spot at the back of the room. You knew the event ticket came with two free drinks and you wondered what glass these ladies were on. You knew it was judgemental, but a bitter part of you felt better at assuming their tolerance. They’d said it themselves: they were getting away from the stresses of their kids.
The guilt of your thoughts brought a weight down and you stared at your ingredients. Women’s laughter rose a little too loud through the space, but Michelangelo was not to be trifled with. A clap of his hands and a projection of his voice got the attention of the room with only minimal whispers about his mutant status. He seemed to either not hear or was a master at ignoring them as he ran through a speech that had to be a learned one. Introducing himself and the linguine you were going to be making today, he explained that you had enough to make two batches.
Following through, he asked that everyone get started and you moved, thankful for the distraction. Pouring out your flour and making a mound similar to the one he had. On the screens around you, he collapsed his to demonstrate how to create the final product again. Cupping your fingers in a way you’d seen a chef do it, you used the backs of your digits to create a little crater. Satisfied with your volcano, you looked back and forth between the model for scale.
An elderly woman across from you whispered to her husband that he should do it like you were.
Flushing dark over your work being perceived, you managed in a very quiet voice to say you were just following instructions.
The woman scoffed and started to go on about their recent trip to Sicily.
Thinking the pair cute, you listened with a lowered head.
“Now that you’ve got some high walls, we’re gonna crack that egg baby, right into the center!” Michelangelo’s voice sent out a new instruction and you followed suit.
He continued on, explaining that you would use the fork to slowly incorporate the flour into the egg and try to keep the yolk from spilling out. Doing so at a snail’s pace, you flicked little bits of semolina into the gooey center and stirred with great care.
Across the room a woman gave a shriek that was quickly chorused with drunken laughter.
It broke your concentration and part of your wall fell.
Nervously darting your fork to salvage the flood, you heard Michelangelo head toward the drunk women to correct their mistake. He said spillage was alright and we only wanted to try to keep from collapsing the well because it was easier to mix. Taking that to heart, you continued to listen as he walked the women through how to fix it. Following along, a shaggy dough forming on your part, you heard him repeat the last couple of steps with the patience of a preschool teacher. Not knowing how he dealt with rowdy people like this on a daily basis, you began to work your dough as he instructed those who had successfully incorporated.
Again, using what you’d seen online, you rolled your yellow ball with the palm of your hand against the work surface. Earning more interest from the elderly couple, you managed to help coax the husband through where he hadn’t been able to get his dough started. Only parroting what you’d heard Michelangelo explain, the pair tittered about your help. Nervously stumbling over some kind of laugh to brush it off, there came a degrading voice.
“You’re just the cutest kid. What are you, 20? That’s how old my oldest is!”
“You can’t say that, Sharon! Oh my gosh!”
“He’s just a boy!”
“Look at that baby face.”
“I’m flattered really.” Michelangelo paid them little mind and walked away to his post at the front of the class.
Mocking laughter chased him, but as much as you examined his expression, he didn’t seem irked by their demeaning attitudes.
For a moment, you were awash with awe that he could let those kinds of comments fall off of him.
Then a counter-current said he had years of practice.
Thinking over his introduction, the latter was the case and in spades.
You hated that and worked out your fury into the dough.
Michelangelo continued on saying something about working those arms out, but it didn’t reach you.
Even if he’d been forced to, you marveled at how cruelty hadn’t seemed to dull his shine. Nothing about his smile seemed fake and you thought yourself royalty when it came to projecting a veneer. Everything he did rang with a certain honesty and you felt a sort of envy at that. To live authentically was something you always tepidly dreamed of, but quickly squashed. The world wasn’t built for that and you were safest staying in your own lane.
Trying to do just that and follow instructions, another voice hit you.
“Come on, babe! You’re just going to sit there?”
Across from you the elderly couple whispered about how he hadn’t done anything the whole time they’d been there.
First stealing a glance with the older woman who gestured you to the right. You coveted another to see a couple at the table beside you. Seemingly a pair on a date, the man was standing with the most closed off posture possible. Arms folded tightly to his body, he even had a pair of sunglasses on even though it was teetering around 7:30 pm and indoors. In front of him sat the plastic tubs and fork, all with their unused ingredients still waiting to be made into pasta.
The star crossed lovers of flour and egg made you sad.
You also felt a sort of envy for the man.
He’d gotten a spot in the class and he didn’t even want to be here.
You’d wanted to attend and didn’t feel worthy even now.
What kind of gall did it take to live like that guy?
You weren’t sure you wanted to find out, but it still seemed attractive in a certain way.
You bet he didn’t care how others saw him.
It didn’t matter how wrong he was.
He didn’t start the process so there was no way he could mess up.
He was still being judged.
That meant you were too.
Were the wine mom’s mad that you’d taken a spot at the front of the class?
Did they think you got special treatment?
Did they hate you for it?
Did everyone know you were a fraud?
Were you worse off than that man who wouldn’t participate?
Were you going to pinch your fingers in the extruder?
Was the hand crank going to break off?
Were you going to drop it and make a noise so loud everyone would stare?
Were-?
“Your dough’s looking great! Feel free to let it rest!”
You blinked out of your spiral to see Michelangelo beaming you a gilded smile right beside you. Melting under it, you nodded with shiny eyes and he softened at the sight of you.
“You know you’re doing so good, would you mind doing something else for me?”
You felt your nerves rise, but you gave a single nod as there was no way you could refuse a request for him.
“There’s a second batch that needs making and I think you’re just the one to do it!”
Lightning struck you with honor and you felt your lips crinkle as you didn’t know what to say. Wanting to convey that you wouldn’t let him down, you watched as he walked away from you.
Seeing him going in the opposite way of his counter, you felt all the blood drain from you as he marched right over to the man who wasn’t participating. Ignoring the guy completely, Michelangelo gathered up the neglected ingredients without asking. He then carted them over to you where he delicately laid them out as you imagined a waiter would dish up your main course. Knowing several pairs of eyes were now on you, you begged him to reconsider when he punctuated off the move with something else.
“There ya go! My star pupil deserves doubles!” On the verge of tears and moving to grab the flour container solely because you were now trapped, he inhaled to project his voice and you wanted to tackle him clear into the ground. “Everyone who’s having any trouble with their dough, take a look at this station here!” He turned with his teacher’s authority and was exaggerated as he pushed a finger into your awaiting yellow oval. “See how it springs back! This is where you want to get it before letting it rest!”
You were under the table.
You were below the foundation.
You were in the sewers.
Anywhere rather than here, the center focus of this class.
Someone had a question and you were glad the sun turned its rays away from you. Making the second mound of the evening and surprised when you cracked an egg into it without thinking, you mixed up another shaggy dough as Michelangelo got the rest of the class to a similar point. Soon you were back to kneading and it was just the reprieve you craved. Rhythmic and easy to fall into, you imagined yourself massaging out your tear ducts. As if avoiding over taxing the pipes, it wiped the pressure of them away instead of causing them to leak.
It was within this rocking of your body that Michelangelo announced the next step. Going through how to send the dough through the crank and when to adjust the size, you sped up your kneading to get your second dough to rest. Michelangelo appeared with a container of semolina you had spied earlier and used a scoop to fill up one of your discarded deli containers. “I’m expecting big things from my second in command.”
The praise struck you similarly as the first time, but the elderly woman across from you gave a knowing little laugh as she was passed her flour.
Hating the spot you were put in, but you pushed yourself to cut your first dough into two portions and rolled the first half out into the assigned rectangle before beginning the feeding process. Another careful motion, cranking worked like kneading and kept you together as your dough got longer and longer. More instructions were tossed out and you tried to catch them between making sure your strip went through evenly each time. Others struggled a little more than you and it didn’t bolster your pride, but instead shared your commiseration.
Feeling vindicated, you hit the designated number mark before it was time to switch to cutting. Glancing around to find you were the first, you shuffled unsure if you should start or if the dough was alright in this form to wait. Unable to call out to Michelangelo, the older woman across from you sensed your troubles and did it for you. More tactful than your teacher, she mentioned she was the one who didn’t remember the numbers and for a moment you didn’t know if she had actually saved you or if she really didn’t remember.
Sharing a glance as she and her husband had become your safety net, she showered you with a wicked grin while Michelangelo examined her crank setting. He came up to tell her it was okay, along with the cutting step, and you were surely painted with dismay as he stuck a finger out to you and mentioned that she should only move forward when her dough looked like yours.
The full brunt of Michelangelo’s UV rays hit you as his eyes lit up. Once again he thrust you into the spotlight, calling the classes attention as he explained this was where you wanted to cut your dough. Going through live, now at your station how to do so, he asked if he could take over and you only wished it was appropriate for you to dismiss yourself entirely from this existence. All eyes on him and not you, you took a minor breather and tried to absorb how he got the freshly cut noodles nested. You thought his touch could make whirlpools. His steady hand was so even, he flipped the dough to his liking and created something even the most picky bird would die to have their eggs laid in. Ending the lesson saying he’d be passing out boxes next, he left you with little parting as several people needed his help.
You had the other half of your first dough batch to work so you repeated the motions with a fuming heat that you thought might cook your awaiting noodles. Body generating a fever from your overtaxed social battery alone, you feared you wouldn’t make it through the rest of the pasta stations before you had to rush home. Collapse seemingly eminent, it was your turn to nest and you fumbled in your wrist flick. It made your noodles a sorry set beside his, but you had an entire other batch of dough to get through.
Moving on to that one, you felt conversation pick back up as people reached the end of their lessons. Back at the cranking stage, the turning of the dial helped to give you a partial recharge. Nothing exciting, you imagined each rotation was one more pasta station you could survive. Getting through those you then marked the turns for getting you home. A pattern formed and in it you formed two more nests and felt a modicum of your sanity reclaimed.
Finding a box had been passed to you while you were recuperating, the old couple bid you farewell as you transferred your little nests into it. Closing up your four little delights, you said a goodbye to them for now while people trickled out. Not sure if it was because you had done twice the work, but no one else seemed as concerned with how dirty their hands were. A mixture of flour particulates and having massaged what was a raw egg, you looked around for a way to wash up.
Glancing for a source, you saw Michelangelo cleaning up after the wine mom’s messy station first. They’d even left their wine glasses behind which he picked up all in one three fingered hand. Marveling at how he threaded three glasses with ease, he caught a glimpse of you. “There’s a sink just behind that back counter.”
Wondering how he knew, you looked down to see you were holding your hands out for the dirty aura they seemed to hold. Ruminating on how absurd you were, you went and used your wrist to turn the tap as you’d seen chef’s do.
Suddenly beside you, you jumped out of your skin as he spoke. “Are you secretly a pro?”
Flicking water around which he didn’t seem to mind, he got hit with your sputter. “I-I d-don’t know a-anything!”
He laughed with a clear echo that made you realize the room had fully emptied out.
First to enter, last to leave, you couldn’t help but smile at how he threw his whole body into his chuckles.
It was like joy had to flood his entire system because there was an excess of it.
Washing your hands, you heard a snap of a towel and found him holding out one that he had kept on his person.
A restaurant quality cotton one, you mumbled a shy thanks as you dried your hands off.
“Know what sauce you’ll pair with your noodles?” He asked, moving to throw trash out.
You bobbed, having not gotten anywhere near considering that. You were still trying to make it to the other stations so cooking sad nests was a far cry on your priority list.
While you thought it over, Michelangelo returned to his station and you watched as he speedily laid out a whole new set of deli containers for the next class. It was plain as day that he fell into a rhythm and as he doled out measured amounts of flour. The act was second nature and he quickly started mentioning simple sauces a beginner chef could whip up. Taking into account all sorts of factors, he casually mentioned that even canned tomatoes could be easily whipped into something incredible with the right amount of care. That everyman’s approach warmed you and, even though you weren’t quite catching the intricacies of his recipes, it spoke volumes to his person.
Zeroing out his scale with one hand, his phone appeared in his other. “Want to see my website?”
“Y-yeah!” The determined sound of your voice was so strong it shook your whole body and you felt a flush come on out of embarrassment.
Offering you another of those gooey smiles, he tempered your sour as he casually passed his phone off into your possession before immediately walking away to prep the stations. Only a little concerned that you might somehow break it, the screen was on a beautifully curated site. Tabbing through recipes, you found he hadn’t fallen for the common trope of adding a long winded story to precede the proper notes. Instead each page was wholly dedicated to whatever you were making and walked you through the entire process with clear and concise pictures.
Appreciative for it, you tried to memorize the URL before he returned to you. Giving back his device, you felt a little amazed bubble give you voice. “This is all so amazing…”
“Pssh, I had a vision is all. Quick and friendly cooking for everyone. Everyone deserves to eat great food.” He stepped away to start placing the deli containers at each station. “That brother I mentioned earlier whipped it up for me. I had these drawings and he brought them to life.”
Despite yourself, you felt a little frown pull your lips. “Look at all you’ve… a-accomplished…”
Stopping after setting down the last container, you watched as the comment caught him off guard. New worries tightened your chest, but his shoulders fell and he gawked at you like you were something totally new. Wondering if somehow he hadn’t ever actually looked at you, he gave a chuff that wrinkled his eyes.
Another bout of strength percolated because of it and the following silence he allowed gave you enough to offer more. “I…I lied… w-when I first came in… I said I-I really wanted to take… your class, and I did! But… not the way I told you… I’m sorry… It’s alright if you want to write me off now… knowing… I’m a… well… f-fraud?”
“You really get in your own head, huh?”
“H-huh!?”
This time his laugh had a bitter bright edge to it that made you feel a bit like a fool. Wanting to run after having not for a while made the fleeting desire feel all the worse.
“I-I’m sorry…” He wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s just, you’ve spiraled like a million times. All night long, it’s like everything freaks you out! You’re so scared!”
Feeling more miserable as he continued, you felt yourself reduced to ruins.
You had been right the whole time.
He had noticed.
He’d just kept it in.
You were a fraud.
You were a joke.
The tail end of a donkey.
Not even worth pinning.
In what felt like a rush of wind, Michelangelo appeared at your side. His hands out, you flinched as you thought he might touch you, but he instead moved them just so to ease you down. “Nope! Yeah! That was not the best thing I could have said! Sometimes I kept saying the same sentence over and over which is like, how does that help anyone? It makes everything way more awkward as I drive a stake through my own foot!” He looked away and smacked a palm to his head. “Is that even a saying? Oh man… What I meant to say was: I know what it’s like. Sometimes I’ll go through these crazy hoops for something, but other times I just act! It gets me in so much hot water… I just run, run, run my mouth!”
Though you weren’t the least bit put back together, the rubble he’d left you in both trapped you while the confusion as to where he was going kept your attention.
“Take cooking!” He gestured around the room. “There’s steps and variables that keep you on your toes. You got to account for all this stuff and it helps quiet my mind. That’s obviously how you were too!”
Misery not loving company because it didn’t seem possible he could know the lengths you’d gone to destroy your own spirit, you let something bitter leak out. “I’m a l-lost cause…”
“Why are you here?” He brought his hands down casually. “If you didn’t wanna take the class?”
You could have blamed the embarrassment.
You could have blamed the humiliation.
You could even mention how introverted you were, but the fact of the matter was that you were depleted in a way that made your lips a little too loose. “I-I’m… not great… w-with anything. Not… other people… Not… going out… Not… anything. I just… I just finally… wanted to get out there. I’ve been… away so long… fearing the world. It… passed me by… I wanted to try to… finally do… something with my life…” Wrapping your arms around yourself, you waited for him to fall into another laughing stint, but nothing came.
Bringing your eye up, you found him watching you with an unreadable expression.
Something almost haunted, you squeezed yourself tighter to wring out a shred of comfort.
Not finding it, you watched him continue to take you in until he suddenly blurted out, “I’m taking a painting class next week and I bought two tickets because a friend slash family member was supposed to come with me, but her junior hockey league won’t stop winning. She says they need extra practice and doesn’t have time for the finger paints, so this is all a really long winded way to say I have an extra ticket and would you like to go with me?”
You couldn’t help the deep frown that appeared on your lips.
This man, despite being so soothing, had not a single shred of self awareness.
It was like he’d forgotten he’d made you his favorite right before humiliating you straight into the ground where you stood.
He also inexplicably had already earned your trust.
He had that air to him.
“A-as a friend! Ah! I always forget to tack that on! I just-!” He seemed embarrassed as he looked to the side. “You’re trying so hard; I want to spoil you.”
Eyes shooting to the size of dinner plates, he immediately screeched realizing he’d made another supposedly unintentional inference.
Quacking with stunted laughter, he smacked his head. “Ho-o-ly shit, I am a mess! It’s like when I start going I’m that bunny from those battery commercials. I just keep going and going and digging myself into a deeper hole, like Mikey, dude, shut up, why don’t ya!?”
He then proceeded to speed up whatever he was saying into something unintelligible.
Watching him openly spiral did something to you.
You drowned out his squeaky sounds with your laughter.
“Funny?” You sort of heard him scream with excitement. “You thought that was funny?!”
You had to clutch your stomach.
When was the last time you laughed like that?
Something genuine.
Something out in public.
Totally unencumbered.
Trying to reign yourself in, you scarcely heard Michelangelo impatiently rephrase his question over and over about his comedy.
Still bubbling with little titters, you managed something. “Y-You’re s-something… that’s for sure!”
He crouched down as you imagined a feral beast would. “That’s not enough! Explain! You have to explain!!”
Riding the odd high he’d gifted you, you opened it up. “I… h-have been eyeing… a craft class.”
He shut right up before excitedly snatching your hands. “You won’t regret it!!”
Staring down at the connection, you felt electricity shoot up from the spot which sizzled the edges of your expression.
“Whoops!!” Michelangelo released and threw his hands out like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Yup! That’s a thing about me! I’m kinda terrible at personal space! Feel free to beat me back with a stick!”
Still gazing down at your appendages, you felt a lingering warmth there and held one in the other to bask in it.
“-and then my big bro didn’t even realize I was riding on his back the whole time!”
Blinking as you hadn’t even heard him start a story, you gaped at how whatever he said was possible.
“So yeah, let’s exchange info so I can send you the deets!” His phone appeared again and he held it up at the ready.
Fumbling a little for yours, you swapped numbers.
“Call me Mikey, by the way. Put that down in your phone or, you know, Chef, if you’re feeling it.” He wiggled his eyebrows and you couldn’t help but give a little giggle behind your phone screen.
Stars reflected in his eyes as he watched the mood and it was only cut short by a shift in sound. Both of you turned in time to find someone from the next class had entered.
Realizing how very much of this man’s busy time you had eaten up, you smashed your phone to your face in an attempt to hide. Mikey returned to give you a curious once over before he welcomed the newcomer with the same heightened aura you felt you’d come to expect of him.
💛 NEXT 💛
Wouldn't you know it? My betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 followed me over to my new fic! Aren't they just dolls?
I wanted to do some look dev and some rough storyboards to try an get a cinematic feel! idk if it's the final look, but it turned out cool and super fun! This is the moment when Leo and Donnie go and try to scope out a curator for a project the Hamato family is looking into...
Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?
Also available on Ao3
First 💜 Previous
“The make-up artist canceled!”
You sighed heavily as you tucked against the wall you’d ducked behind.
“Last minute! Absolutely absurd, this is exactly why I put a no-show clause in their contract. We’ll wring them dry! They’ll never decorate another face again as long as I-!! This puts only the photographer and officiant on time, but without the proper preparation then what is the point?! I dislike excessive editing. I want our photographs to be authentic! If only I could-!” Donnie thumped something loudly and you heard other voices trying to talk him down.
You pinched your phone between your shoulder and cheek so you could check your ring.
“Don’t touch me! Of course I’m not dressed yet! Do you see how filthy this place is! You! That garland is sagging! You petulant pond scum! If you think for a moment I will allow you too-!”
It felt like needles were pricking your skin.
It was stress.
It was frustration.
It was anger.
It was all Donnie.
Your mate was breaking down as the wedding planner and you were stuck in some backroom at the venue.
You rubbed your ring and wished the feeling would connect to your partner.
It wouldn’t yet.
You needed to put his band on him first.
“Where did you store these flowers!? You need to get them into water, now!” His voice rushed the receiver. “Darling, I apologize, I-! LUKEWARM WATER, YOU IMBECILE!!!”
You could be out there helping.
You could offset the pressure.
Together you could bear the load.
Only your fiancé had mistakenly gone off the deep end after his visit to Lady Nagami for his final suit fitting. She had asked where he was going to stay the night before. From that moment on you believed Donnie had subscribed to just about every wedding superstition that existed. Not that he believed a single one of them, he refused to let even a hoax interrupt your wedding day.
Your wedding party didn’t particularly mind the sudden booking of a luxe hotel, but being apart from Donnie in this instance was a terrible one. The closer it had gotten to the date, the less your mate left up to chance. Besides being the titular planner, he had removed others from their roles because he no longer trusted the work unless he saw it with his own eyes. It meant he was scarce not only that night before, but the five leading up.
Now a wreck and several hours out from the ceremony, you weren’t sure he was going to be in any state of mind to enjoy the wedding he so painstakingly coordinated.
You wanted to be with him so badly it hurt.
Spinning your ring loosely, you knew he could feel it if he just had his matching set.
You should have been the one to propose, you thought then.
“My heart?”
You breathed in deeply. “You know what I have to say.”
“Know that if it were at all possible to see you, I would cart you from room to room on my shoulders.”
You smiled at the imagery.
“I can’t chance it.” Donnie spoke softly. “I will see you as you walk down the aisle and not a moment sooner.”
“I know.” You held not only your ring finger, but your entire hand.
For the first moment on the call, Donnie quieted.
You heard the rumble of others.
Workers decorated.
Kaleb murmured in hushed tones.
Old lady Nagami must have responded because there was a sliding ‘s.’
Raph’s bassy tones argued with someone.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. prattled off what sounded like an endless stream of numbers.
You looked around the room that smelled of oak and felt locked away. It was a glorified closet, yet there was nowhere to hook anything. For whatever reason, it had two door which you supposed were for amassing entrances and exits to get away. This was nothing more than a connecting nook and you’d squirreled away in here after texts no longer seemed to cut it.
“I love you.” Donnie spoke clearly through the phone.
“I love you.” That helped; he always helped. “Hang in there. I need you present when I get in front of you.”
“Oh.” The sound was rounded with a static puff against the line. “All else will fall away. All we will need is to follow the necessary cues.”
“Then don’t pop a blood vessel until then.”
You heard a rustle and just knew he was checking his tech gauntlet.
The silence spoke volumes. “What is it?”
“My blood pressure is a tad high…” There was a grimace to his voice.
“Have you eaten? Did you drink water?”
“He hasn’t!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bellowed.
“Mhm.”
“Get off the line! What have I told you!?” Donnie hissed.
“’Weh weh, don’t tap my phone, son. I love you, sport. Let’s go play catch after this!’” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. mocked.
“I-!!!” Indignity took Donnie’s very speech away.
“Caterer’s here!” Kaleb called and you heard sharp shoes click against hardwood.
“I… need to oversee this.” Donnie returned, regretful.
“At least they’re on time too.” You told him. “Get one of them to make you something plain. For me?”
“Alright.” He relented. “Soon. So very soon.”
“Soon.” You agreed and lingered until he hung up the line.
“Big green baby.” Coral’s voice drifted in behind you.
You didn’t have to turn to know she was reclined in one of the doorways. “I’m assuming your hair didn’t cooperate?”
“Shut up!” She spat, clearly scathed. “I’m last up! Don’t rub it in! I look bomb otherwise!”
You turned to give her attention and she struck a pose in a lilac dress.
It matched the color scheme and you approached.
She held out for a second before she came in as if there was a secret to share. “How’s he doing?”
“Not great. He’s worried.” You showed her the ring. “Nauseous, dehydrated, and tinges of vertigo.”
“You can tell all that from that thing?”
“Yup.” You closed your hand. “The make-up artist canceled.”
“Shit.” She clicked her tongue. “We could get by with what we got, but…”
“Yeah, Don does the best make-up I’ve seen but…”
“Still can’t believe he’s being all superstitious.”
You raised your brow in commiseration.
“Okay.” She clapped her hands. “Contacts. Let’s gather up all the phones and exploit people we know! Someone will know someone who can get their ass in here!”
Your ex-roommate turned with a pumping fist and you followed after her to what you dubbed the parlor. Another equally darkly stained wood room, there were a litany of leather chairs. The entire room almost seemed like something out of a Chesterfield catalog. Off to one side, Nelson and another of your bridal party members were trying to get a foosball table to work. In a corner near a window, Eugene and one of your cousins were doing their best to break into a liquor cabinet. You knew this was a space supposedly built for men to busy themselves while the bride prepared, but it had been passed to you for entertainment purposes. It was the safest hideaway while Donnie needed to rove the venue. It ensured he wouldn’t run into you.
You sat on an uncomfortable sofa and watched as Coral rounded up the room.
She had this, you decided.
You’d done most everything you needed.
You were dressed up.
You were otherwise primped minus make-up.
You were free to sulk.
There was a sharp stab in your finger and you winced.
Before you could even wonder what was wrong, your phone was out and you were typing out a message to ask.
Donnie’s text of having dropped a chafing dish on his foot appeared before you finished.
You typed out affections and for him to get it checked.
You could have done that for him.
You should be with him.
“Where are the parents?!” Coral seethed in a voice that broke the monotony.
You looked up to find everyone now gathered and furiously at work on their phones. “I heard your mom say something about the gardens.”
“That bitch.” Coral gave a crazed look and turned it on Nelson.
He had long grown from the nervous man you once knew because he didn’t break a sweat as he typed into his phone. “That bitch is more connected than any of us. She’s bound to know someone. You go. I got things here.”
Coral stamped her foot, clear emotion throttling her before she hugged him tight.
It took all of Nelson’s self control not to drop his device as his eyes shot wide.
Coral released and fled in a way that didn’t allow anyone to see her face.
Nelson stood a lolling figure as if Coral had wrung him out.
That was new.
You smiled and knew exactly how you were going to interrupt her speech during the dinner.
Nelson rebooted and whipped himself into shape. “Alright! We’re looking for a beautician! What have we got, people!?”
You should help.
You should stay here.
You should continue to sit on this terribly hard sofa.
You stood.
You meant to go over to them.
The room had gathered.
Without you.
Getting that make-up artist would help Donnie.
You wanted to help Donnie.
No.
You wanted to be with Donnie.
You craved his side.
You didn’t care about the missing professional.
You barely cared about the photos.
It seemed like a waste without him.
You flittered toward a door without realizing it.
“Hey…” Nelson warned.
Coral had been minding you since yesterday night.
She’d gone above and beyond in her honorific role.
She’d gotten your favorite dinner.
She had games ready for the nervous and lonesome night before.
She’d forced everyone to bed at an appropriate time.
She woke everyone up the next day.
She’d fielded an incredible breakfast spread before you piled into a van for the venue.
Everything.
You also hadn’t been alone once.
You hadn’t gotten a moment’s peace.
It helped in a way.
Of course she knew you wouldn't want to be alone.
She knew you’d break the superstitions in a moment’s notice.
In this way, she helped Donnie.
You loved Donnie.
You also very much needed a hit.
The texting wasn’t enough.
The call wasn’t enough.
You blamed the ring.
He was upset and you weren’t with him.
You needed to see him.
That would do the trick.
If you could catch a glimpse of him, it might help.
Who was the addict between you?
“Bathroom.” You decided without really knowing where you’d land.
“I’ll go with you.” Nelson tried to rush whatever he was typing.
“Yeah, not happening.” You tilted your head and challenged him with your gaze.
He lived with Coral.
He sent a similar look right back.
The stand-off pulled your cousin in and they looked back and forth between you.
“I can go to the bathroom by myself!” You threw your hands up. “Two doors and on the left. If I’m gone for more than 5 minutes you have permission to restrain me!”
Nelson studied you with narrowed lids before he found truth there and nodded once. “Fine. Anything else and it’s not my neck.”
“Yeah…” You turned and yanked the door too hard to get away.
Two doors.
One took you through that weird nook you’d taken your call in.
You went right.
Down a short hall that led to where you’d once seen a bunch of men congregating.
More family.
Family was crawling out of the walls.
You heard a voice and ducked toward the closest knob.
It surprisingly turned even though you weren’t sure this room was being used.
The voice’s drew closer and you closed yourself inside.
Your hand loosened as you took in the space.
It had a dreamy lilac tint to it and fine dust particles filtered through light pouring through the window panes. For a room that appeared neglected, there was also a sense of purpose. Fine wood furniture came in a matching set and was arranged like a set piece. You walked into it and felt like cameras could line the wall you had come in from to shoot this period piece. It would run on black and white televisions across America and you trailed a doily sitting on an end table. It was marked with a piece of aged porcelain that had finely painted details. You followed its pointed handle toward a mantle and looked over the scant knick-knacks there.
This was a room for photographs.
You knew your venue served all sorts of clientele. It had been part of the spiel during the initial interview. It was a conversation that had turned into a battle of wills between the employee and Donnie, but it had worked out. Their garden space was a stunning one and it was the rare moment during the many appointments where Donnie had taken a moment that wasn’t calculated. You could both foresee yourselves exchanging vows here and that was all that mattered.
You took one last stale breath.
You shouldn’t have felt settled.
You looked down at your hand.
Donnie was momentarily pacified.
Something was going right.
Each minute took you closer to one another.
A silly agreement in the scheme of things, it was yet another page in your life together.
You’d be alright not seeing your mate for now.
Today was good.
You felt buoyed and headed towards the door.
You’d make a pit stop in the hair dresser’s room and see how things were going.
You could see what make-up was in the vanity you had seen there.
You rounded a chair to leave when a disc of blue light appeared in front of the door.
Leo clad in a suit with an untied tie hanging around his neck then stepped through talking backwards through it. “No, there’s protocol! They’re separate, but they aren’t! Just like how hair is attached to your head! You know? Where the face is!? You need to talk to the hair person, you can’t just drop a make-up artist on them and expect-!”
He tried to stall, but both his legs hit the ground due to momentum.
He looked up at the ceiling and toward a corner of the room you weren’t in. “The hell? This isn’t the prep room! This place is a maze, I swear-!”
He rounded your direction and you only watched as he caught sight of you.
The portal behind him disappeared.
You knew the look on his face and gave a smug smile.
You’d seen yourself in a mirror not too long ago.
You knew you looked good.
Dressed in expertly tailored finery, you were a vision.
You supposed make-up was the finishing touch that would enhance the image, but still.
You’d gone through the whole process of getting ready otherwise.
You’d be standing beside Donatello after all.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Leo tipped his head with an appreciative eye. “If you took my breath away, think of what you’re going to do to that jackass.”
“There’s a bet on whether he’ll cry or not.”
“Oh, don’t you know? I’m running it.” He had a scoundrel’s smile as he walked over. “You pulling a Julie Roberts?”
He made it obvious he was checking your footwear and you tutted him. “You watch too many movies.”
Leo mimed jogging. “Then you’ll know how prepared I am for this wedding!”
“What’d you watch?”
Leo made an excited trill and held up his fingers to count. “Four Weddings and a Funeral, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Singer, The Wedding Planner, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and Mamma Mia! Duh!"
“Missing a few key ones.”
Leo scoffed so loud you could see the spittle in the air.
“Found a make-up artist?” You folded your arms.
“Yeah, me.” Leo waved his hands dismissively.
“No.”
“Yes.” Leo chirped like a know-it-all.
“You cannot do make-up.”
“I absolutely can.” In a swing of his arm, his phone appeared along with photos already up of drag performers. “Long story, but I helped out with some shows because I needed a hospital hook-up.”
“Show me yours.” You demanded and stalked towards him.
He pulled his device back only for a second before it was in your hands.
There you saw an image of Leo in a blond wig smizing his way out from the other queens he was framed with.
You couldn’t even laugh.
You smiled and blew out a harsh breath.
He was an oddity.
He was a pain.
He was a handful.
“You’re really our only choice?”
“With two hours, 27 minutes and 16 seconds, scratch that 15, or did I say 14? And, what was that? Like 15 people who need their faces painted? Uh yeah, I’m the best you got.” Leo pinched his device back up.
“Drag make-up is-!”
“Hup, hup, hup!” Leo held a quieting hand out. “I’m not trained. I’m not gonna pretend, but I have the steady hand of a surgeon and I know how to do an elegant, but understated look. I swear. You think the rancid raisin would let me do this otherwise? I did Mikey’s make-up in demonstration!”
You frowned deeply before you tore out your phone to text Mikey.
Within seconds you got a selfie of him clearly chewing something where his lackadaisical expression was contrasted by the soft glow of his skin and lovely accentuated eyes.
“Okay… he does look good.”
“Right? It’s not fair with that damn hair of his!” Leo was behind you and admiring the photo.
You flapped him away and he scurried out of your arm’s length. “Why do you need to talk to the hairdresser?”
“There’s code!” Leo scoffed and turned towards the door. “C’mon! Show me where it is! Clearly my portal map was not accurate!”
“Hmph!” You followed after him.
He caught the knob, but didn’t turn it. “You look amazing, by the way. You’ll hear that all day, but from me it’ll mean something.”
You slowed and studied how he wouldn’t look at you.
“If you weren’t doing the whole, on the aisle thing, I’d say you should have let him see you in here. I thought I’d fallen out of space time.”
“Leo…” He was so earnest his cheeks burned.
He chuffed faintly. “From soaking you in hand sanitizer to this.”
The dousing steam brought with it irritation.
He ruined everything good.
You would never trust this annoying man.
“Life’s a funny thing, ain’t it Y/N?” There was something carefree about the way he turned.
His smile honestly wrinkled his crow’s feet.
There was no deeper scheme.
This was just Leonardo Hamato.
At a wedding.
Your wedding.
“Thank you.” You told him with the same unrestrained tone.
“Yeah, well, same. I’m doing this and you pay me back by holding up your end of the deal. I want to ride out my pseudo-retirement on purse snatchers and the occasional bank robbery, nothing else, got it?”
You pushed him and he chuckled as he finally opened the door.
Everything flew by after that. From you getting your make-up done to Coral screeching as her unruly locks were eventually set, a photographer came through and began to document last looks. You were shot with family members and the party members now in a strict alternation in the garden. You hadn’t quite gotten to view the ceremony area in full yet, but glimpses of it through bushes made it look lush.
Finally, you were in place outside giant doors and a venue attendant came through to remind you all of the procedure. Music started up and the procession began. You watched person after person trickle out and away from you until you and another were left behind. You weren’t to be escorted out and given away, but instead you would be led to your destiny.
For maybe about the thousandth time, but who was counting?
Your feet edged pooling light and your arm was taken.
You stepped into the door frame and on cue there was a gentle gust of air.
It flittered a few loose flower petals from their toss earlier in a guiding line.
They settled in front of highly polished oxfords and you moved up tapered white pants.
Pressed with creases so sharp they could cut glass, they led into a similarly stark white tuxedo colored only with lilac accents.
You knew that Donnie had chosen to wear white, but seeing him in it now made the vision of him a warbled one.
You were getting closer to him and when your eyes met his, you felt the crowd fall away.
There was only the leading carpet and you walked it to him.
You were left and made the last step of your own to where neither of you had broken eye contact.
Someone was talking, you guessed, but you were mesmerized by watery eyes and a fateful smile.
Your finger throbbed with yearning and you reached out to adjust Donnie’s lapels as coyly as you could.
His arms ghosted up to support yours as if your breaching the space between your bodies broke the spell on him.
He coasted up and down your arms with eager digits that needed more.
Words spilled a backdrop, but there were only the two of you as he stepped in closer and tucked his beak into the crown of your head.
“I didn’t think it was possible.”
You tilted your head to peer at him against the proximity.
“I had every adjective to describe you, but I can’t remember a single one.”
A grin split your face and loosed a few of his tears.
He didn’t bother wiping them and you felt someone that was very much not your partner touch your arm.
The officiant looked scolding and mentioned the vows.
You blinked wide.
Your wedding was happening all around you.
You went to look at the crowd, but as soon as you caught Donnie’s eyes, you were alone once again.
He oozed palpable affection and opened his mouth for a speech.
You waited.
Nothing came out.
His mouth closed silently and his eyes opened sorely haunted.
He then checked with you before he searched his person.
“Left breast.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. leaned in from behind Donnie.
Your son was smartly dressed in a suit of his own and you wanted to appreciate it.
Donnie slipped his hand into his tux and pulled out some cards.
His hands shook.
Without thinking, you cupped to support them.
The moment the words steadied, he looked at you.
You smiled and squeezed his palms.
“A vow.” Donnie didn’t project in the slightest. “Noun. A solemn promise.”
He wasn’t looking at the cards.
“We’ll do the pre-written drivel last, but we decided to start with our own.”
You nodded.
The notes fell from his hands in favor of taking yours. “What can I pledge to you that you do not already have?”
“I don’t know.” You responded cheeky and the crowd giggled.
“You have it all.” Your hands weren’t enough and he caught your waist to pull you flush to him.
He took great care in placing one of your hands over his heart and held it there.
“I forgo this process. I have nothing more to give you. You own it all and this is merely a formality so I may say I am yours in yet another means. I would go through this hellish process a million times if only to sign the paper again and again. I would stand in line at the county clerk’s office as my purgatory if only to renounce my single being to a duo again and again. I have no speech. None of the hours I spent in writing it matter. Nothing I say will be comparable to all we’ve gone through or even the most inconsequential thing you’ve said to me. Instead, I wish only to declare my intent.”
He gave you one last squeeze before he looked out at the crowd.
“You wretches!” His fangs glistened as he grinned with every fiber of his being. “However you are known to me by association or cruel fate, I pledge thus…”
He left you completely and stared out as if someone would defy him.
You were sure there were reactions, but you couldn’t look away from your mate.
He was yours.
“Let it be known, from the moment I hatched to my dying breath-” Donatello turned toward you. “I was destined, am, and will forever be yours. In all forms and states of mind. In yours as well.”
You held your hand out to coax him back.
He took it, suave, and brought it to his lips, but did not kiss. “I love you.”
You signed it back and he scolded you by slipping back into his spot with a gentle nudge to your hip with his.
Anticlimactic, he addressed the officiant who didn’t seem to realize that was the end.
You knew.
They were words that in no other realm would he ever state so publically.
To anyone, no matter how close.
Only now.
Only for you.
You responded.
You said your vows and heard none of them.
You’d practiced them so many times you would be able to repeat them in the next lifetime.
They felt meaningless.
You weren’t even sure Donnie was hearing them.
He was only watching you.
For all intents and purposes, this event was already over.
Then came the classic lines.
To have and to hold from this day forward
You scarcely heard the officiant struggle.
For better, for worse
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. produced a ring.
For richer, for poorer.
Words.
In sickness and in health.
You didn’t need them.
To love and to cherish.
Action.
Until death do us part.
It was useless.
Donnie only mimed putting your ring on.
You had been wearing it and it was never coming off.
His ring, however.
Three nights ago you had imbued it with a drop of your blood.
Its mere existence had put Donnie on edge.
He wanted to wear it.
If anyone else chanced putting it on, you were up for grabs.
It had taken literally opening S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. up and placing it securely within his circuitry before Donnie would calm.
Now you took his hand and felt how assuredly steady it was.
He brought his digit up incrementally so you could slip the band on.
The moment it hit his knuckle, he twitched and stalled.
He felt you.
Felt how you had already written off the ceremony.
Felt how you were hungry.
Felt how you had the faintest nerves about the photos you’d been taking while the spaces were switched out for dinner.
All wholly new data that had never once been truly accessible to him, he might have given over to it had you not one more thing to do.
The officiant spoke those final words.
You moved into a kiss.
It was a cover.
As your lips met, the importance was your wedding bands.
Between your bodies and with cheers all around, your left hands met.
In a twist and lock, the two bands interacted.
You had seen mysticism.
Mikey’s chains.
Leo’s portals.
Donnie’s construction.
Raph’s form.
But you had never truly felt it until that moment.
It rushed through you on a cellular level and felt like an untamed thing.
It probed your worth.
It tested your bond.
It saw truths you held dear and ones you hadn’t committed to yet.
It then convened with ancient unknowable counsels.
It deemed you worthy and withdrew into your mystical item.
You were with Donnie.
Donnie was with you.
You parted from the kiss and it hadn’t been more than a few seconds.
You felt lifetimes intertwined as his forehead rested against yours.
His entire knowledge base wasn’t exactly yours, but you could sense it.
He could finally rest.
He had someone else to bear the load.
He would never be truly alone again.
You were rushed.
You had no idea who started it, but someone ran up to the stage and the other’s followed.
Friends and family, if whatever had occurred between the two of you was too much, it had somehow translated outward.
Decorum was lost and you were swarmed.
Lifted and cheered, you were surrounded by love.
In a physical sense it separated you both, but you were not parted.
You looked over the jostling bodies and found Donnie’s eye.
He met yours with a wrinkled one of his own.
Your Donatello.
💜Follow me, the tag #weakspotfic , or Ao3 for updates! Behind the scenes deep dive for this chapter and others along with in-depth writing discussions, plot bunnies, and more are available for only 1$ over on my patreon~ 💜
My betas joined me with Weak Spot and they will carry on with the next work! @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83
Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?
This may seem like a rehash of last week''s, but @tmntxthings seriously came in CLUTCH for these last few chapters. I had a lot of details that weren't ironed out for whatever reason and she helped me put them in real order! We wouldn't have Weak Spot as we know it without her!!!!
Also available on Ao3
First 💜 Previous
Things were pleasantly stabilizing. For once in what felt like years you had time to breathe. Not always a bad thing as Donnie had a penchant for taking your breath away, it was instead a slowdown from the nonstop repetitiveness of undertakings occuring. They were always begging for your utmost attention and just having a few months of normality in comparison felt like a vacation all its own.
You were healthy.
Donnie was healthy.
Your friends.
Your family.
The storm had passed and with a righted ship, you applied yourself at your job. Finally able to look at long term goals, you plotted out that you could be moved back into your position by performance reviews next year. A long goal, but not a lofty one, you had heard murmurs of how they hadn’t hired anyone for your old position. You kept yourself humble, but you had a feeling that maybe you’d be asked back sooner.
First, however, you were going to obliterate the simpler desk job they passed off to you and leverage that for a fatter raise if that were the case.
If not, you could catch up on the backlog of filing and then ride out the cushy position.
It was a win-win.
Optimism.
Not something you thought too much on, you felt it creeping up on you. You kept your back to it just in case, but it acted as a lounge chair. You could recline in happy thoughts for once and Donnie appeared to be doing the same. You both kept busy both separate and together which made the overall mood a light one. With summer having scorched the earth, you had a second yielding of crops from your rooftop garden. Besides the comfortable labor done up there of tending to it, Donnie had procured that tree you wanted and you found yourselves relaxing in the space for the sake of it. You’d drink in sunsets and sneak glances at each other as the city hummed around you.
You had a good work day, a catered lunch with coworkers, and an uneventful ride home to your apartment. Donnie was on the schedule for dinner tonight and the dish he was making was one you’d had many times before. A delicious staple, it was to be yet another normal evening as you stepped through your threshold. Your boyfriend wasn’t at his desk which didn’t pique any necessary worries as meal prep always took him in roundabout ways depending on his mood. You took care in putting your things up and went to get something to drink.
You were sipping on a beverage and gazing out the kitchen window at two lovers schmoozing on the street below when the door opened.
Donnie appeared with a grocery bag cradled to his chest and his carapace to you.
“Hey, Sweet. Beat you.” You tipped your glass to him.
He barely nodded.
Distraction not a foreign thing when he had recipe steps filtering through his mind, you moved out of the kitchen to give him space.
He made it exactly halfway there before you heard a comical rip.
Something that could double as movie foley, you saw Donnie hunch where groceries then spilled out around him before he could react.
Round objects rolled to settle and there was a glug of something leaking.
Donnie didn’t move.
He was frozen in place.
You set your drink down and properly took him in.
Not lengthy exhaustion, but tight lines of today’s anxiety creased his face. There was then a smudge on his cheek that was barely perceptible and not something you could identify. From there you realized that the way he clutched the grocery bag was because one of the straps was already torn. A thin and separate rip then took the bottom, though there was an odd gouge where it started. The spill poured from there, but a different sort of streak of what looked like dust streaked his pants.
All that information taken in only a few seconds, you pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. You gathered a towel that was disposable and a roll of paper towels. You were at Donnie’s side in an instant cleaning up the mess as he stood a statue over you.
Saving grocery goods that hadn’t been destroyed in the wreckage, you saw the brand.
It was to that grocery store you tried to conquer once every few months. Always an ordeal, it had been agreed upon that Donnie wasn’t to attend. This was your venture and you were fine with that. Which meant him having gone made little sense. You yourself had been not that long ago and there were still items from the store dotting the freezer. Your dinner was a common one so there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to go out of his way.
A rag was soaking up lost juice and you looked up at him with a box in hand. “Why did you go here?”
His lips parted, but nothing came.
You softened at his struggle and moved to finish cleaning up. You then took several trips bringing everything salvable to the kitchen before you attended to the rock solid form of your mate. He watched you with his eyes, but his posture hadn’t unfurled in the slightest. Taking great care not to touch him, you instead slid through the remains of the bag and coaxed him with tiny pulls to release.
He did so with peeling back fingers and a grip like one reserved for roller coaster safety bars.
“I’m gonna toss this.” You told him and examined the bag on the way to the trash. The spindly fibers on the handle said it had broken with use. It made sense as weight mattered little to Donnie so you imagined the bag had mistakenly been taxed. From there, you couldn’t parse out the tear to the bottom. There was an outward puncture as if it had been stabbed through, but the groceries you gathered didn’t have damage that matched.
Dumping the thing, you turned to find Donnie had cracked his façade and was looking down at his legs. It took you no time to spy a dark splatter on his pants from where the juice had exploded upon ground contact.
“Why don’t you wash up and change?”
It was as if he needed to hear the offer to do more and gave a solemn nod.
You watched him disappear around the partition and looked after him with metered affection. Though the circumstances were bad, you loved this side of him just as much. No matter how put together he tried to make himself, he still got as hung up as anyone else. You didn’t need him humanized in your eyes, but knowing that you were one of the few who got to see it warmed your heart.
Doing a last pass to make sure everything was cleaned from the spill, you set to work throwing something in the oven. Taking out a freezer backup meal, you were re-reading the instructions while the oven warmed when Donnie emerged in another full blown outfit. One you liked on him, it chiseled his usual carved form and he came over with intent oozing off of him.
“Did you want to go out? I can turn the oven off.” You made a show of the box you had yet to open.
He took it in with a furl of his brow and nothing more.
“Donnie?” You tilted your head to catch his eye. “You okay?”
He said nothing, but his features further creased until he was outright scowling.
“Is it this?” You showed him the meal again. “There’s also a pasta. You liked it last time, we can do that instead?”
“Pasta.” He spoke the word as if possessed.
It didn’t read as a confirmation to you and instead almost like a mime. “Don, I’m starting to worry.”
That seemed to penetrate him and he looked at you with renewed intent. “Restaurant?”
“We can.” You moved to shut the oven off.
The moment your back turned, you heard him give a testy sort of grunt.
It slowed your finger near the off button. “Or… not?”
Silence again reigned so you turned to view him.
It took several long moments, but you thought you got a read off him.
It almost looked like he was paralyzed by choice.
He needed you to be clear and concise so you gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s order out, get something nice.”
He stalled in a nod, but eventually his head bowed, deferring to your decision.
You remembered he’d mentioned a new Italian place earlier that week so you recommended it.
Again, he agreed with a shaky bob of his head.
You moved close, but gave him a berth as you brought up your phone. Finding the location and flipping through the menu a few times, he eventually named a dish for himself and you selected your own. Throwing in an appetizer for good measure and a dessert that sounded like something he liked, you pressed send. The page turned over for a confirmation and you moved wordlessly to put the freezer meal away.
You passed him toward the living room to get your drink.
He needed space to process.
Plopping down and getting comfortable, you sipped from your glass.
You watched your partner move through motions without movement.
He seemed to scold himself.
There was a pause as if he found fault.
He then forgave his person with a heave of the sigh.
Something difficult, it pummeled his strength and he moved to hold the counter.
It was his version of a breather, but whatever the conundrum was, wasn’t solved.
He was trapped with it and sent that distress to you.
You made an obvious show of setting your glass down to telegraph he had you in any form he needed.
It came with his shuffling feet where his knees bumped the far couch arm.
You watched as he tipped like a plank of wood until he collapsed, face first, into the center cushion.
Behind him, his legs extended straight into the air.
You chewed on a laugh.
He laid in that position for a little too long.
You moved, first unsure, then careful to graze the back of his head.
The touch was a question.
He answered it with a heaved sigh and a turn of his cheek.
You weren’t sure what that meant, but you could now see that smudge better. You still didn’t know what it was, but you stood. A few steps to the bedroom and back got you a tissue and you knelt down in front of him. He watched you with a beaten down expression and you took great care in wiping his cheek clean.
“Thank you.” He mumbled earnestly.
You nodded and chanced the faintest peck to his brow. “Whatever you need.”
For a split second, all the strain washed off him.
What looked at you was your loving mate.
Then misery returned to him and he soured with a pucker.
It shallowed your heart and you sent that concern to him. “What is it, Don?”
He shook his head before rolling all the way over and buried himself into the back of the couch. It pulled his legs off from their perch on the arm and he curled them up to his body in almost a fetal position. You watched on with a hopeless feeling and caught how he’d left your seat open. Giving your own exhale before standing, you sat there and wondered what the next best step was.
The wait for food to arrive was always so annoying.
You ordered and were forced to wait just long enough that having a snack was debatable, but discouraged.
Wondering if maybe hunger was getting Donnie down in some form, you felt a bump to your thigh.
Blinking once outward then twice at your leg, you found that said man in question had squirreled his way up the few inches that separated you so the top of his head could just graze your leg.
You watched him with metered interest.
With a shimmy of his shoulders, he repeated the move, but jostled you without any strength.
You weren’t exactly sure, but you adjusted your recline so your lap was open.
He tilted his head just long enough to spy on you.
You were waiting there with a quirked brow.
He hid away in what seemed like irritation in having been caught.
“You can always ask if you’re not sure…” You told the air and patted your legs in offer.
You counted exactly five seconds before he kicked off the far armrest so his body would lift. His head landed on your lap and when you tried to look down at him, he buried his beak into your stomach.
“Silly cutie.” You told him.
He grunted against you with a warmth spreading through your top.
He wiggled, obviously breathing you in.
You chanced setting a hand on his arm.
His body curled, trying to get closer where the couch was in the way.
It reminded you of how he wrapped his body around you when he was in the midst of his heat.
In a slow stroke, you pet his arm. “Did you have a bad day?”
It took some processing time, but he nodded against you.
“Sucks.” You commiserated. “I know those and I’m here for you.”
He spoke something, but you couldn’t hear it.
“Hm?” You continued to pet his arm.
He said nothing more and grew slack against you.
Picking a piece of lint from him, you rubbed his limb then this head. It took a long while, but eventually he gave into the barest churr which you took as a good sign. There was a beep from the computer and you looked over to see the feed of a delivery person. “I’m gonna get the food.”
Donnie gave a little annoyed chuff and curled down into himself.
It freed you up and you bent to kiss his head before going to get the door. An easy transaction, you gathered bags and moved to the kitchen. Donnie stayed put and you gathered up his meal with his preferred utensils. Moving to bring his over first, you set up his container in a restaurant-style presentation before returning to the kitchen to grab yours. Upon returning, he had unfurled and was looking at his meal with a tired eye.
You sat beside him and were careful not to jostle his being.
He rubbed an eye and took a fork around the time you got the remote. “Want to watch something?”
“That one show.”
You hadn’t been prepared for a response and your head snapped to him.
“The hospital one.”
You knew it because he’d mentioned he liked their accurate take.
It was also an albeit silly one.
Tempering your surprise that he’d picked at all, you pulled it up. “Which episode?”
“Dumb luck one.”
Your eyes shot wide and you fought every single instinct not to send awe at your partner.
You flipped screens knowing which episode he was talking about and it also happened to be the one he’d praised the show on. It all felt so surreal, but the moment it started, you saw Donnie move to eat. After he’d successfully chewed his first bite, you watched the monotony of consumption hit him and it allowed his brain to give way to simpler stimulation.
You eventually ate yourself and watched as the episode rolled into another. It was nearing the fourth one when Donnie made a little noise. It had an attentive quality, as if something occurred to him, and you moved to check in. You found his gaze clear, but the weight of his worries had dropped upon him anew. Brows pinched tight enough to seal a leak, it trapped the concerns of his brilliant mind.
You set your container down where it had been laying empty in your lap and crossed the space to sit directly beside him.
He promptly got up and moved one sofa square further from you.
His rebuff struck you like a blow.
You hadn’t bothered him, but he ran from you.
You shirked away and gathered the discarded take-out. Putting things away in the kitchen, you tossed trash, set a few things to soak, and did it all with a broken heart. You argued with it, hoping to push it away and make sense of what was bothering him. It seemed to twirl down a drain and you eventually relented to wash up. Changing into pajamas, you exited the restroom to find Donnie’s head still sat, unmoved, from where he was still sat on the couch.
He’d stay there.
You weren’t mad.
You weren’t even necessarily hurt.
It did sting through.
You were slow to part the curtains of the canopy. You looked up at them and thought about their origin. You’d recommended them after a bad day of your own. Donnie had worked so hard then and you twisted a hand in the fabric. A soft material, it gave easily and you wondered what you were missing. From the gentle action to asking, it seemed you’d rounded all the bases except space. A frustrating one, he had illustrated the concept literally and you supposed he did so because he couldn’t elaborate.
Clutching onto that hope, you released the canopy. This was meant to be his safe haven so you turned to look out at him. “Hey, Don?”
His head tipped upward as if he had awoken.
“Let’s switch. You take the bed and I’ll sit on the couch?” You stepped away with the offer.
Donnie dipped to gather force and then stood. Standing statuesque for a moment, he then turned mechanically. Step by step, he walked out from the couch until he lifted his eyes from the floor and glimpsed you. “You changed.”
“Huh?” You looked down at yourself and then to him. “Oh yeah, you’re still dressed.”
He reached you with his worries percolating, but they now seemed centered on your pajamas.
You tipped your body to catch his eye.
He gave it with lined concern.
“Did we need to go somewhere?”
“No.”
A frown tried to manifest on your lips, but you forced it into a thin line. “Here.” You gestured to the bed. “Get some rest, okay? Love you.”
You didn’t wait and moved around him.
You felt him track you with a full rotation of his body.
His gaze felt burrowing as you sat on the couch and ducked out of sight just to shake it off.
Everything was fine.
Your peace was intact.
Donnie had a bad day.
How many of those had he had?
Not many that weren’t equally shared by you.
This was uncharted territory.
He needed space.
He’d passed along as much.
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It was okay.
You felt assured as you groped for the remote.
It was down by your feet and you had to reach for it.
When you laid back out, Donnie was standing an ominous shadow above you.
A small yelp escaped your throat. “What are you doing!?”
“Y/N.”
“Yeah?” You held a hand to your heart where it was racing.
He stared down.
“Donnie, please. I don’t know what you want.” You sat up and nearly immediately he took a seat in the space you left. “O… kay…?”
His posture was terrible, he was a curved ‘C,’ and his hands twiddled thumbs in his lap.
You guessed you had been wrong about the bed.
You moved to stand.
Donnie snatched your wrist.
You stared at him.
His eyes warped, pleading.
“Don…”
“Y/N…”
“Yes?” You begged him.
Distress bled from his lips.
You tugged lightly on your hand.
His grip tightened.
“Donatello. I don’t know. I can’t know unless you share. Please. I want to help.”
“You can’t.”
It felt like another lash to your chest.
“I am the failure here.”
You jarred.
“It is my own to bear.”
“What are you talking about?” You moved to face him.
His grip on your wrist changed to a loose cuff. “Restaurant.”
“Huh?”
“To cliché. Too obvious. Already done to capacity.”
“Don…”
“The venue?” He glanced away, seeing plans you couldn’t. “Outdoor, romantic? Assuredly, but taken. I’ve plotted our Valentine’s seven years in advance.”
It was such an oddly specific number you wanted to ask about.
“Indoor, the same. Stunning architecture? A backdrop. A fountain? Does that compare our love to water? My cup runneth over. Of course it does!”
Your fingers curled in his.
He didn’t seem to notice. “That brought comparisons, metaphors, places we’ve been before. Retreads, deeper meanings, foils! The sandwich shop where we met! The outside of your work building! That courtyard where you revealed your sorrows! Rooftops! Alleyways!! Food!! Beverage!!! Grocery store!!!”
He was becoming more manic by the second.
“Not center stage!!! Something small!! Something meaningful!!! The options!!! So many fucking options!!!”
You were in motion and you broke free of him.
He did nothing to hold you back.
You caught his face.
“The guilt has been eating me alive!”
You inhaled sharply as you got an up close look at his glassy gaze.
“Nothing is worthy of you. Nothing is good enough. I am at my end. It has to be good enough. I have to be good enough.”
“Donnie, please. You are-”
“A meal! I thought! I’d already considered it and a million others, but I could create a dish that rolls all meaning into one. I’d make a standard, one we both enjoyed. It would represent our connection, the banality of it all. How in that we matter so much more! A centerpiece dotting an average night turning it into an unforgettable one!!”
You loosened your grip and he pressed his cheek against one of your palms.
“If ever there was a folly, I encountered it today.”
You tucked your fingers under his chin and scratched his favorite spot.
He didn’t have it in him to churr. “I fell back asleep after you left this morning. I need strength for today’s mission so I rooted into your pillow. I do adore your scent.”
Your face warmed.
“Lulled, I woke later than my preparation required so I rushed. Changed, the outfit I meant was to be picked up so I was forced into another. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, a rush, quicker. Outside and to the store before I realized I’d forgotten totes and, more importantly, my wallet.”
You nodded, attentive.
“I returned, gathered those only to be stopped by movers on the floor below. They’d wedged a dresser in the stairwell so I meant to pick it up and move it for time’s sake. It was repulsively dirty.”
That explained the dust.
“They thanked me and initiated touch which…” Donnie shuddered. “I weathered and made it to the store only for a key ingredient to be sold out! I moved to another store and found the same! I hacked the inventory systems to find the buyer was a rogue food truck owner who did not receive their order. They decided to instead rob the everyday consumer by buying up all surrounding stock!”
You leaned into him.
He accepted you with a moment of closed eyes as his forehead bumped yours. “That left me without options as time was ceaselessly ticking so I opted for a last minute adjustment. Another of our favorite meals with exclusive ingredients from that store you like.”
You nuzzled him.
He gave a few second rumble in his throat. “It remains a nightmare. The people. The staff! So loud! So synthetic!”
“Foods worth it.”
“It was meant to be! I gathered what I needed and made it to the curb where the car was parked when it was struck.”
You jolted away to stare down at him.
He looked at you with severity. “The hazards were on. Every precaution was taken. My system may be able to protect itself, but others always have a portion of incalculable unknowns.”
“You were in a car wreck!?”
“I had yet to enter the vehicle. I was leaned forward to set the filled bags in the seat when it was rear ended. I watched as everything I had purchased be crushed in an instant.”
“Donnie!”
“I was uninjured, but there came police and insurance reports, and endless, endless, conversation!”
“Was the other person-!?”
“Fine! They were fine! The cars were both totaled. It’s fine.It was time for an upgrade, but the hemorrhaging of time!!”
You wilted.
“I returned inside, I bought the scant ingredients as the damn store was being picked clean, but I did what had to be done. My last chance for scraping together the evening. I got my bags. I moved to exit.”
He was building and your face expressed your woe.
“A child knocked over an enormous vase housing a floral display in the entrance and I was skewered.”
“You said you weren't injured!?”
“I wasn’t!” Donnie’s teeth appeared in a curl. “I dodged and thought I compensated for the bag’s swing!”
“But!?”
“But.” He repeated harshly. “I also dove to save the boy from the shattering glass. In the process, the bag was punctured.”
“The bag.”
“Not the boy.” Donnie scoffed at the clarification. “The child saw the piece and thought it helpful to rip the chunk out!”
You gave what was almost a laugh.
“I saved his hand and berated him in not only glass safety protocol but that leaving a weapon in a stab wound is proper procedure.”
“You told a kid what!?”
“Trust.” His gaze was flat with the pained memory. “His mother had quite a bit to say about that. Please.”
You almost felt dizzy. “Okay… All this… takes up more time...”
“The bag was in disarray, but the food was untouched, so I only needed to support the bottom and ride… public transit.” Donnie sneered.
“Don…” You shrank with sympathy.
He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly to your ear.
“Dreadful. The sights. The smells. The horror.” He tucked his beak against you. “I made it. You arrived home before me. How could I prepare? I had all, but given up. Then… I saw you.”
You leaned against him.
“A vision. All my worries vanished. You, a stunning placement, bathed in window light. Your glass glittering as you sipped. Your mood jovial. I thought anew. We would cook together. Show our bond. More of our domesticity.”
“The bag…”
“The bag had presumably worn the weight no matter what my hold and had other ideas.”
“You froze.”
“It felt as though my entire plot collapsed as well. Before I could do a single moment of damage control, you were taking charge. From cleaning, to the meal, what was left?”
“Anything…? You wanted to highlight how well we work together.”
“I had been absent! For all of it! Spiraling from plans left unlaid!”
“So…? We fix it?”
“I needed you to fix it! I need to explain! That wasn’t the plan! It was too far gone! I’d been silent too long! It was an illustration, but also a surprise!”
You weren’t sure what to say.
“Then in my wretched attitude, I rebuked you?! Idiot! I was dwelling on when to reschedule. The moment I moved away from your worry was the moment I realized my grave mistake! I hurt your feelings which meant I would have to wait until they were repaired before even chancing a thing.”
“What…? What is all of this? I keep thinking you’ll say it, but you’re just alluding to something I don’t know about.”
“You!” He spoke as if that was the answer.
You stared back with sadness tinting you.
“You…” He cupped your hand to his cheek. “Our love.”
You shook your head, not understanding.
“I can’t do it like this. Please… If you can continue to wait?”
“Donnie.” You sighed. “You know I’ll wait for you. You know I’ll always wait for whatever you need. You aren’t getting rid of me, but all this sounds ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re trying to plan or why it has to all be good for something to happen. Bad things happen. I think every bad thing that could happen, has happened to us. It matters, but it also doesn’t! We have each other and that’s what’s important. Like you said: our day to day, the fact that we can, will, are, whatever, going to do this for the rest of our lives is proof. All the stupid weeknight dinners. Watching whatever shows. Cleaning. Cooking. Maintaining a house. Taking care of us and anyone else.”
A little color marked his cheeks.
You kissed each of them, one at a time. “You’re right. That’s what’s important. It’s how we interact. How we’re codependent or whatever! We’re us forever and always and we like it. We’re not all these crazy things. We’re this and if we can do this? We can do anything.”
You watched all concern wash away from your partner.
He moved, carefully, to take you close.
He kissed you with a shallow press that said he needed to do more.
Allowing him that, he stood and ushered you onto the couch.
Taking the middle seat, you watched as he looked only once at the coffee table.
It was clean from where you’d removed the remnants of dinner and he caught one end to lift it.
As if it were paper, he sat it on its side and it stood a tall wooden obelisk.
He gave it a little rock to test how sturdy it was.
Satisfied it wouldn’t fall, he released it and addressed you.
His hand disappeared into his pocket.
He removed it with something concealed.
He dropped down onto one knee.
Everything hit you with a flood that watered your eyes.
“Y/N L/N…”
Your hands flew up to cover your mouth.
He looked at you through his lids and his own outpouring of adoration. “I should scold you for stealing my moment, but you have also assured me that I will have nothing but opportunity for another.”
You shook your head and a few tears loosed.
“I should have known.”
He smiled fondly.
“The best way to do this was whenever felt right.”
His hand came up.
“No planning, just as you appeared without any.”
One palm offered, he unfurled his fingers to reveal the jewelry box.
“My heart.”
His other hand opened it up to reveal a clean band that seemed to radiate some kind of aura.
“My love.”
He offered it up to you and all of him read submissive.
“My life. I offer it all. Will you please marry me?”
You nodded too furiously. “Yes!!!”
Tears darted the air as you shot forward the moment he tried to grab the ring.
The box clicked shut and you tackled him.
To the ground where you both laughed and tears flowed.
“How long have you been worrying about this?!” You croaked against him.
He wrapped his arms around you. “Months. You caught me planning multiple times, but never noticed!”
“Evil!”
He laughed brightly and wrung you side to side.
It bumped a table leg and you both froze as the coffee table wobbled.
Donnie rolled over top of you so he’d take the brunt of the damage.
The table only fell like a bridge.
It landed on all its feet and hovered inches above your fiancé.
Locked safely beneath it, you sent all your affections before you kissed him.
Having weaseled his arm into position, he slipped the ring on your finger and you felt it warm your digit.
💜NEXT💜
I don't know the exact date, but we are hard coming up on a year that @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 have been my betas! I have and endless sea of gratitude for them both! They are integral to my writing at this point!
Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?
You were exhausted by every definition of the word. As long as you were awake there was something there vying for your attention and it left you drained. From healing to tests to visitors, occurrences were all around you. Sleep came in inevitable spurts and felt like your only respite. Consciousness was a thing to be dealt with as much as you wanted otherwise.
Your friends came in pairs.
Your ex-roommate, Coral, had apparently shown up more than once while you were unconscious, but upon seeing you, eyes open for the first time, she burst into her first actual tears. It left the two turtles always in your presence a noticeable speechless as she rushed over, but kept from collapsing onto you. In time though, she was in your bed and regaling you in how she attacked Leo assuming he was the cause. Leo corroborated the story citing how alike the two of you were which then led to Coral finding out about the S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. suit debacle.
She reigned hell down on the blue turtle for even thinking to touch the automaton.
As amused as Donnie was about Leo’s beat down, his own bitterness dictated he bring up how Coral still had beef with his son.
Coral said that was all in the past and Leo was left sputtering on what appeal S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had to have charmed so many.
All the while, your nervous friend Nelson, who now lived with Coral, was fluffing a bouquet they had brought.
You heard Donnie throw him a comment about foliage and the two talked a quiet distraction as Leo sulked in a corner.
“So… Magic underground city.” Coral said, pushing your cuticles back even though you’d told her multiple times how much you hated it.
“It’s maybe another dimension?” You wanted to yank your hand free, but it would be too much effort.
She slowed, studying your nails. “You’re not going back, right?”
“No, I was already over it, but now…?” You sighed.
“Never.” Donnie cut through both conversations with bitterness.
“Good call.” Coral pointed to him without looking. “Sucks about your library though.”
“Library…?” Leo didn’t glance over as his phone was now in hand.
Donnie’s gaze pointedly narrowed where Nelson could see it.
Your nervous friend tilted his head with concern.
Leo heard the silence and it pulled his gaze. “The mystic library?”
“Leo…” You warned.
“If there’s a detail left out that can help the investigation…” Leo pressed back, sitting upright.
“It’s not related.” You decided.
“How would you know?” Leo bristled.
“Can you not bitch about Y/N’s memory loss? I’d suppress the thing too, damn!” Coral hissed.
“Sorry, I’m trying to cover my bases and make sure there isn’t a larger plot to kill them.” Leo mimicked her tone.
She glowered.
Donnie exhaled quietly.
Nelson gave him a sad smile.
Donnie took it with a slight nod.
You knew Nelson knew as much as Leo, but even he could sense the line.
“Them.” Coral spoke around her tongue. “Going soft, blueberry? Don’t you and grapes over here have mega beef?”
Leo was on his feet with furious eyes, but he stayed rooted in place.
Coral only cocked a waiting brow at him.
Leo’s gaze narrowed.
Her smile grew.
“Why don’t you talk motive then, detective sea rocks?” Leo walked over, gearing up for a challenge on the way.
“Omigosh, I’ve never heard that one before.” Coral feigned a gasp behind a hand before tucking an arm around you to appear more casual. “I’ll bite.”
“Please.” Leo pulled up a stool and took the position of the Thinker.
“We got vacation gone wrong and a jealous ex.” Coral shrugged as if that were obvious.
Donnie reared.
Nelson held up anxious hands.
Leo bit down on a bark of laughter. “Ex, huh?”
“Oh yeah, this has crime of passion written all over it.” Coral pointed at your bandages. “Don’t you think?” She lolled her head toward you.
You weighed your response before looking at your boyfriend. “Donnie’s never mentioned one.”
Donnie shot Coral specifically, an embittered look. “At best, the yokai in question was marked in my database simply because they were part of the police department. I have no greater notes and no further ties.”
“Knew you read turbo virgin.” Coral lowered her lids as if Donnie had walked right into her trap.
He only stared back.
Leo lasted one entire second before he began to cackle so hard it spun his chair.
It stung, but you knocked your head against Coral’s.
“Hey!” She squawked, more for your sake.
“Leave him alone.” You switched your grip as fast as you could and dug your nail into her nail bed.
“Ouch!! What the fuck!?”
“Yeah, it hurts!” You sent her your disdain.
She sent her own.
“Y/N’s injured…” Nelson felt the need to remind the room.
Coral ignored him and left her hand in yours. “It has to be something like that though. To drug ‘em both, but only hurt Y/N. From what you described, it sounds like they wanted Donnie to watch.”
“Not my name.” Donnie grumbled.
“I got you multiple birthday presents, I’ll call you whatever I want.” Coral smoothed out her fingertips to yours.
You could feel Leo picking up the tidbits of closeness and how it rendered him further confused.
“Evidence schmevidence.” Coral continued. “They had a hard on for purple.”
Leo tapped his stool. “Nothing we don’t already know.”
“How long was he on the force?” Coral was far more careful in examining the hand on your injured arm.
“Twenty three years.” Donnie replied.
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything to me.” She skimmed your digits. “How’s that fall into your timeline?”
“Coral, Leo’s here.” You sighed.
“So? Hey, blue balls, do you not know Plankton's backstory or what?” She didn’t look up.
Leo made a confused face at the nickname.
“You don’t know the back story.” You reminded her with a dull stare.
“I know some!” She huffed, proud. “Apparently more than pepper face.”
“I have two brothers. You aren’t coming up with an insult I haven’t already heard.” Leo seemed both amused and not.
Coral shined him an all too wide grin.
Donnie was caught in thought. “Records indicate he became a beat cop around the time I became official.”
You leaned your head on Coral’s shoulder.
She laid hers on top. “Official how? He must have met you then.”
Donnie either felt lonely or sensitive because he crept up to your side. “I have no such memory.”
You held out a hand for him and he took it.
“How old are you?” Leo looked at Donnie, tepidly.
“Vivisection placed me at approximately 35.” Donnie responded, keeping his gaze to your hold.
Leo made a disgruntled noise.
“Vivi…” Coral mouthed before the word sank in. “Who cut you open?!”
Donnie didn’t budge.
Coral checked with you, but you tucked your head away.
“He cut himself open.” Leo spoke with knowing disdain.
“How would you know!?” Coral glanced at him.
“I don’t, but I do. Look at how they just reacted.” Leo threw a hand up to gesture to you. “Besides, he used to always do fucked up shit to his body. I’m surprised he isn’t the one bed ridden.”
“Shame you’re so imprecise with that blade you supposedly trained your life with.” Donnie turned up hatred.
Leo’s body rose with a current of surprise and rage.
Nelson wandered into the line of fire. “U-uh w-we were talking about the common enemy!”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed. You have no sense of self perseveration, I swear. Nels, come here, stupid.” Coral removed herself from you and held out a hand.
Nelson resisted and stayed firmly in place between Donnie and Leo.
“Nels!” Coral growled.
The man in question shook his head.
Donnie stepped in closer behind him. “As good a time as ever for you to finally admit why you spared me that day.”
Leo didn’t break eye contact, but there was something unstable about him.
You didn’t know what Donnie was talking about.
“Y/N…” Coral pleaded with you.
You could barely hear her. “Donnie?”
Donnie laid a hand on Nelson’s shoulder.
You took it as an indication that he’d be safe.
Coral went to move.
Leo blocked her with a raised hand.
Her shoulders hunched, ready to strike if need be.
“You were eleven or twelve when you became an official villain.” Leo finally spoke and the entire moment disengaged.
No collective sigh had, the humans in the room wilted.
“Same as me.” Leo mumbled out the side of his mouth.
“Approximately.” Donnie steered Nelson back towards the bouquet.
“The yokai was six times your age.” Leo spoke his thoughts.
“Gross.” Coral chanced, still shaken.
You nudged her lightly and she spared you a downtrodden look.
Leo nodded. “Surprised a newbie cop survived… Especially one that failed to get on the force three times.”
You felt a pinch in your head and looked toward your water cup.
Nelson was closer and got it before Donnie could.
You thanked him quietly and drank.
“Why’s that?” Coral ventured.
“Someone almost single handedly wiped out the force.” Leo bobbed his head toward Donnie without looking.
“At twelve…?” Coral looked at Donnie then you.
You had no defense.
You kept your eyes down.
“Not so fun galavanting with a murderer.” Leo barely kept a sneer in line. “Who doesn’t know enough now?”
“Leo, shut the fuck up.” You spat bile.
Leo only snorted and folded his arms.
He closed himself off.
For a long moment there was quiet.
Then Coral picked at your blanket. “Antelope lived…”
You were the only one to look.
“The bastard.” Her eye was on your covered body. “Obsessed with becoming a cop means he’s prone to going all in. Who’s to say he didn’t get high off living through an encounter with the demon child?”
Donnie’s eye darted as he connected the dots.
Your head hurt.
This was hitting the limits of your interactions.
You also had physical therapy scheduled soon.
You were about to mention it when Leo piped up. “His family all worked city jobs. If you fold in the mystic library, however it fits, then he’s obsessed with some duty to the city.”
In a sudden slam of your skull you had a vague thought about sacred spaces before your stomach churned.
As if socked, you hunched forward on a gag. “Gonna vomit…!”
Coral was out of the bed and Donnie was around you with a pan. “I’ve got you. Let it out.”
You gagged and spit as he rubbed your back.
“That’s enough.” Leo spoke softly. “Visiting hours are over.”
“Y/N…” Coral mumbled.
“It’s…” You choked.
“Y/N is alright. You’ll come back?” Donnie asked for you.
“Of course… Don’t worry.” Coral headed towards the door. “Nels, seriously this time.”
“Yeah…” Nelson maneuvered around Donnie and shot Leo a vicious warning look as he passed that only you and the receiver seemed to see.
Leo was scorned as the two parted with apologies and goodbyes.
With nothing coming up from the nausea wave, you eventually laid back and cursed to the dead air of the room.
-
Heading home after a month in the hospital was tainted by what you now thought of as your chaperone. It didn’t matter that you had been in a coma for three of those weeks, but in the hospital it had felt like one thing; Leo was there as an added pair of hands when you were at your worst. He gave Donnie a break when caring for you which you were endlessly thankful for. His mischievous side paired with his convenient powers meant you had all the contraband you could ask for from anywhere in any world. He also had a command over nearly the entire staff and, just as Donnie alluded to, you couldn’t help but notice that your hospital stay had been a positive one because of it.
In your own home though, he felt like a freeloader.
Leo was no longer as useful with no one to manipulate and he had a clear fear of touching anything in your place. His entire being was now closed up and often placed in parts of the apartment that he deemed safe. While he never said it aloud, the dart of his eye and paranoia you had learned of him spoke to how painfully aware he was of the cameras monitoring his every move. This was compounded by S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., a walking manifestation of a bug in Leo’s eyes, who stopped by routinely to drop off supplies. Your son was an antagonist whether he realized it or not and he pressed Leo whenever he had the chance because he deemed it fun. You loved the automaton dearly, but his rambunctious nature meant his visits were shortened. Donnie couldn’t mediate and you were left missing his smaller form to sleep with as the best sentient heating pad on the market.
S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s human sized form had already been enough of a shock to Leo, so you assumed it had been decided that any more information about your son was to be kept under lock and key.
It was something you had to surmise as several decisions had been made without you. You might have found a way to ask, but guilt was eating away at Donnie for his failings already. He had to bury enough in front of his foe, because of his ninpo, and on top of being your caregiver, which meant he looked ready to keel over. You wanted to support him, but you yourself were still casted for at least another month. The spica had been your nightmare and even though you could technically walk with crutches, the threat of the plaster breaking at your hips, as you had been warned, hovered over you like a blight.
You had been assigned an in-home physical therapy.
Another invader in your home, she was kind, but she was yet another thing to think about and another barrier for Donnie to mentally navigate.
There were also the other turtles. Leo had been forced to essentially move in, which meant Mikey and Raph made excuses to drop by. It was clear their nerves were frayed over their brother’s new housing situation as it was, to them, in a lion’s den. Though each man was independent, there was a clear separation anxiety if only because of trauma. It just so happened that the source of all that was themselves and your boyfriend. It showed on all four turtles faces that this situation was progressing for too long and you were the cause.
You didn’t feel at fault.
You wished your body would heal faster and Mikey had offered to hit you with more mysticism, but having talked to the youngest had revealed the many side effects that could have taken place which put Donnie’s waiting room arsenal into perspective.
You’d told him no, that you would do this the old fashioned way, and in classic Mikey fashion, he had already moved onto the next thing.
You wished you could too.
While your assailant was no longer alive, it had been upsetting to find that the investigation had been one closed for lack of evidence. They Hidden City considered it open and shut without further motive. You weren’t sure if you were afraid of another attack stemming or in general, but anxiety took up the very little left of your sanity. You were back to near chase level concerns and it was the only way you were glad the apartment was never empty. You avoided windows and doors, but being in your own bed helped to an extent.
Heal.
You just needed to heal.
Then process.
There was a mountain of feelings to process.
If it wasn’t you, it was Donnie.
If it wasn’t Donnie, it was Leo.
If it wasn’t Leo, it was the other turtles.
Then your friends.
Then your job.
Then, everything.
One total week of your new homebound hell and you’d hobbled over to the kitchen by request of your therapist. You tried not to cry as you looked up at the cabinet that held cups. There were so many things you needed to do in order to free up a hand to reach them. It had already been an aggravating stepwise process just to get over here and having to wrangle your crutches away and back once again zapped the rest of your energy. A psychic collapsing, you were on the verge of tears for nothing and you wilted right there against your own counter.
The barest sound, not even a snivel, summoned the two men.
“Y/N?”
“Hey, you good?”
There was no escape.
No where you could even cry in peace.
Not here.
Not in the bathroom.
You could yell.
You had yelled.
You’d snapped at Donnie more than once.
The ugly side of healing, your frustrations with yourself leaked out and leeched up at those around you.
For Donnie, he took everything in a careful stride. He knew you didn’t mean it and gave you space while he was still just within reach. It still affected him, however. He’d paper mached himself into a pasted shell, but the cracks were evident. No matter how many layers he put on to hide it, pieces like that weren’t meant to be jostled. If you could have kept it in, then he wouldn’t be cracked.
You also couldn’t discuss this as there were prying tympanum.
For those reasons, Leo became your target.
You hated that.
He accepted it all too easily.It felt wrong in how calmly he’d take the barrage.He wasn’t like Donnie where he understood why you were lashing out. With Leo, it almost felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for the punishment. It spoke of many things, all too haunting and not yours to deal with. As much as he’d stomped into your life, you couldn’t help, but grow a certain fond of him. He’d helped you, he helped your mate, and he did it all after he and the ones he loved most had been terrorized for almost two decades.
Tears ran currents down your cheeks and you huffed feeling the pain of crying.
The scar tissue around your liver sat like a rock in your abdomen.
Your shoulder muscles ached near constantly.
The healed line along your ribs was taunt skin that tugged if you bent at any angle.
The damn cast sat unrelenting around your hips and deadened everything.
You choked a sob and you sensed both men flanking you.
“What’s wrong?”
“Does something hurt?”
You only shook your head.
Irrational.
Was that the right word?
No, you had justification.
It still sucked.
“Leo!” You quacked out against the barrage.
You could tell the men apart without looking and turned to your right where he was standing with a certain amount of surprise. “Yeah?”
“I need… I need time with Donnie. Can you… go do something, I don’t know… Just for a while?” You hadn’t meant for the water works to sway him, but you felt how messed up your face was when you sent your plea.
It snapped Leo’s expression shut, but there was a haunted quality to his eyes.
You knew that.
You knew your messy emotions were a threat to Donnie’s ninpo.
You just wanted some damn time to grieve with your partner.
You hadn’t had a single real moment alone with him.
All of this thankfully seemed to translate because Leo eventually gave a curt nod. “Sure. I’ll go… out, I guess. Just for a bit, but you message me if anything, anything, happens.”
You agreed and watched him go.
You waited until the door clicked shut before turning on Donnie.
He wrapped you up in his arms the best he could and brought you close.
Was this the first real hug you’d gotten from him since leaving the hospital?
You despised that.
“It’s too much!” You were forced to give the emotions voice.
Donnie nodded into your head.
“I miss you! I hate this. I can’t…!” You rooted into his sweater.
He continued to rhythmically concur.
“And you…!” You pulled back and he loosened to give you space to.
Your hands sat useless against his plastron.
Having to keep your crutches to your body meant you could reach even less of him.
You were too addled to press him and he wouldn’t allow his emotional veneer to fall.
It was a new one that you loathed.
It was different from the one he used in public for safety.
This one clung to him sickly and all the time.
It was the one that kept his powers at bay.
Shut and locked away, your watery eyes morphed his expression.
It was selfish to think he’d cry along with you, but you wanted him to so badly.
You wanted him to be able to express his own anguish.
You knew it was there.
Trapped along with everything else.
“You…” You wilted against him.
He held your pieces together.
“I miss you…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t-!” You banged his plastron.
He did nothing.
“Don’t… do that.”
He was at a loss.
“You had to. I wouldn’t be here otherwise…” You pressed your forehead just above his pectoral scutes. “You saved me. Full stop, no cost.”
“Leonard-”
“Leo nothing!” You came up glaring. “You saved me! I’m talking about you!”
His face sat neutral.
Throwing your weight against him to steady yourself, you released both your crutches to grab at his head, unencumbered. He caught your waist for balance and you used his distraction to pinch and pull his cheeks as far apart as you could. His teeth appeared stretched and he made the faintest noise of discomfort.
“You can’t even churr…” You let go and did nothing to soothe what you knew stung.
You watched his lip move as he tried to conjure something, but nothing came so he sent a metered sad gaze down at you.
“You can’t…” A few more tears loosed. “You can’t anything…”
“Y/N…”
“I can’t help you. I can’t do anything. This all-!” You nearly bit your lip and huffed to let it quiver.
Donnie nodded, the strain showing in lines on his face. “My research is coming up bare.”
“Yeah?” You leaned in close, having figured he was up to something like that, but you hadn’t had a chance to really talk.
“It seems the rat destroyed the surviving Hamato documents in a fit of letting his sons free the shackles of their destiny.” You could tell saying the sentence alone almost made Donnie vomit.
You couldn’t lean up, but you tilted your head and he came down enough to accept a peck to the cheek.
“The rest are cagey about details.”
You ran your hands along his arms. “I guess that makes sense; if they don’t teach you then you can’t use it against them.”
“But we’re inexplicably tied because of it.” Donnie’s brow furrowed.
“You’re too dangerous to leave alone.” You sighed at the conundrum.
“Contained for so long…” He had a haunted edge to his eye. “It’s as though it aggravated the ninpo’s release. It doesn’t feel as though I can be put back within the tomb of my body. It flows violent and endless… Illustrative of me… I suppose.”
You squeezed him.
“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and I are scrounging for records. Ninpo differs heavily from mysticism. It’s far more powerful, but it’s…” Donnie sneered. “Nonsensical. You get it by trusting family? Why? The blue bastard mentioned saving the red rube, but he’d done that dozens of times prior to whenever they unlocked it.”
“Right…” The memory dawned on you. “You saw them before like they were and then they suddenly had powers.”
“They even changed outfits.” Donnie stuck his tongue out the slightest bit.
You felt your spirits raise with how cute the action was.
He noticed and sucked the pink bit back in.
You accentuated the purse of your lip.
He mentally chewed for a moment before darting down and licking your cheek.
You squeaked and giggled into him.
He relented for a few kisses before pulling away.
You hadn’t dared test it and the mood was terrible with Leo around, but you knew Donnie was worried what even the most innocent of romantic thoughts would do to his ninpo. The most touch you’d dared was when you’d have to me moved or stabilized. He relegated the work to his hands so it came as a shock a few days ago, when you’d given up after being unable to change your own shirt due to a muscle spasm. Donnie’s body had pressed yours while he helped you and the heat there felt like something new.
Your mind was pained by the deficit, but your body had forgotten so quickly.
You cuddled close to him and, for a moment, felt those thoughts were unwarranted; he was always here. “Not everyone can nail their suit on the first try.”
“I made a few upgrades over the years, but style wise…?” He let the sentence hang.
“Spooky.” You peeked up at him.
“You think I’m spooky?” He leaned down with a faint leer.
You nodded and kissed the tip of his beak.
“The stalemate stands, but it seems there’s been improvement?” He murmured, hovering close.
“With you, me, or them?” Again, you felt the weight of the many thoughts crushing you, but this time you felt them held mutually with your boyfriend.
“Me…” He had a starting edge. “This…” He tried again. “We haven’t gotten a moment like this.”
“It seems alright…?” You tested him by swiping an all too light finger along the side of his neck.
His eyes shut and he gave the faintest shiver.
Your finger danced at his collar.
His lids lifted and showed his clear gaze. “I would say so.”
You smiled into him.
He took a longing press from your lips before he came away with a chuff. “Your improvement isn’t linear, but is obviously occurring. That’s as to be expected and as for… them, we continue regardless of their existence.”
You felt a similar lightness in him and chased it with a nipping kiss.
He allowed himself to languish in it.
Reassurances.
Hadn’t you both agreed long, long ago that those were necessary?
“How long do we have before I need to finish my homework and walk back across the apartment?” You glanced at your fallen crutches and back to him.
He had the faintest little smirk and curled around you under the guise of gathering your sticks for you.
-
“Ten more…”
Pulling at the resistance band, you rattled with a whine as you didn’t think you’d make it.
Across from you, your physical therapist was standing close and you despised the thin layer of sweat coating your body. It was so little effort to have taxed you this much. She also could undoubtedly smell the BO. The worst of which had to be the cast which was building odor from the lengthy use. Having been in it for almost two months, it made sense, but it was yet another reason to despise the damn thing. Donnie and Leo had yet to say anything, but you could tell by the way they turned their beaks that the pungent odor was worse for them.
Humiliation on top of misery caused you to rush the last six reps.
“Woah, woah. We gotta go slow to build that muscle…” The physical therapist caught you immediately.
“Just a… second…” You wheezed.
She traded you a bottle of water and held the band as you drank it down greedily.
Nearby Donnie stood with an arm crossed against his torso and a hand covering the bottom half of his face.
As you came away panting from labor and oxygen deprivation from drinking too much water, you knew that to be his PT position. He assumed it in every session you’d had so far as he wasn’t allowed to be present for the ones in the hospital. You wanted to ask why he always appeared the same, but you hadn’t been able to. A literal workout, you only wanted to wash up and then bury the exhaustion afterward. By the time you were back to the barest energy levels, you tabled it because another session was the last thing you wanted to ruminate on. During, however, you’d see him and wonder.
Was he holding himself back?
Was it hard to watch you struggle?
Did he want to help?
He never once interfered or made a noise. He kept his distance unless coaxed, which would sometimes happen if the physical therapist needed to demonstrate how to do your homework-type exercises. She was only scheduled to come by three times a week so you were expected to continue even when she wasn’t around. He took that job with a severity and was a menace about you having exactly the right posture to maximize healing. You knew beside his search to control his ninpo, he’d been studying everything there was to know about your particular injuries, but neither field seemed to be progressing.
Leo, on the other hand, almost always used your sessions to nap. You were sure he was worried in the beginning. He probably thought Donnie would fly off the handle at seeing you taxed, but instead Donnie stood as an intent observer. Seeing that to be the case, Leo took these moments as time off. Never a guest, Leo had fallen into a fixture-like role in your home over the course of two and a half weeks. It never felt like he truly moved in, though he rarely ever left, which made him almost an odd lamp you wished you could toss out. The couch was where he frequented and you assumed he was hidden there where you couldn’t see. His break while you busted your butt stung worse than Donnie’s hovering. It’s not like you wanted him around while you worked out, but him acting like these moments were vacations made you want to snap the resistance band in his face.
Even if it sometimes felt like it, neither man looked down at you.
You could do this and it was the only other thing you thought Donnie might be thinking. As much faith as you had in him, he had equal droves for you. If he was watching to see each sweat droplet marking your progress, it filled your chest with pride. Even when you failed to complete a full set, your physical therapist still congratulated you and marked each time you were able to go even the tiniest bit farther. Donnie knowing and being there to see each time you improved helped your resolve. You’d push past this because you wanted to. He was there to see it and you’d show him exactly what kind of resolve his mate had in the face of adversity.
You really needed to confirm how he felt.
For now, unfortunately, you shared a readied look with your trainer and they nodded, setting you back up to continue. “You’ve got this.”
“Yeah…” You stretched out the phrase and put tension on the band.
A purple light lit up somewhere behind you.
Three occupants of the apartment shot to look with rigid fear as the fourth casually turned.
Donnie’s computer was glowing at maximum strength and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s little icon was jumping up and down on screen.
“That’s cute…” The physical therapist chuckled. “Did you download that?”
“Ah-ha… yeah…” That wasn’t exactly a lie, but you were still sweating over thinking Donnie had manifested a legion of artillery.
Donnie was in furious motion.
A small smile slipped on your lips as he was sure to scold S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. for scaring everyone even though he’d be careful in his wording to not admit that was the case.
What was curious was Leo scurrying around the corner and into the bedroom.
He had a nervous twitch to his brow and it took you an exhausted second too long to realize it was because he was running from S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. It prompted a new kind of grin that Leo pointedly ignored.
“Hey, Lucinda, what’s shaking?” Leo played it cool and offered a fist bump.
Your physical therapist met it casually. “Oh, you know me now? Finally done ignoring me?”
“Not ignoring…” Leo leaned to one side and snapped a playful gaze right back. “It’s business. I’m on the job. Gotta act all tough and serious, you know!” He tucked his hands into his pockets and bobbed his broad shoulders.
“Uh huh.” She didn’t seem to believe it for a second and gestured for you to keep going.
You did exactly one rep before you had to stop. “Okay… no… You two know each other?”
“Oh yeah.” Lucinda said it like it was some kind of big thing.
“We go way back.” Leo joked the same way.
You stared on, unamused by the show.
Lucinda broke into a smile. “Fine, Leo here once forced his way into my old office to train.”
“Forced is a strong word…” Leo’s eyes rolled in a way that said he was avoiding guilt.
“He pretended to be an injured patient and then pelted us with a thousand questions until my boss got wind and yelled at him.” She clarified.
Leo made a sheepish high pitched noise that whittled down to a nervous chuckle. “I did get hired on though.”
“How’s Mikey?” Lucinda tapped your band.
You took a deep breath and went through your last reps.
“Good. He regained nearly all motor function, but he hasn’t quit the health nut bit.” Leo watched you with a trainer’s eye.
“I haven’t talked to him in a few years, but it was no joke. He was always onto some cutting edge stuff.” She seemed amused.
“You don’t live with him.” Leo huffed.
“You’re too hard on your family.”
“You know us Hamatos.” Leo banged his chest once to accentuate his tough plastron.
She sent him an arched brow that said she didn’t appreciate the joke.
Leo shined her a bright grin.
You drank a bit more from your bottle and let the pieces fall into place. “Mikey’s hands…”
The other two perked up.
“I thought this was a job?” Lucinda sent a suspicious glare towards Leo.
Leo pointedly looked away. “You know Mikey!”
“Cause Mikey gets around, right?” Her sarcasm cut thick and felt like a stark contrast to the concise person she was at work.
Leo laughed nervously before turning a wild gaze to you. “You know Luci here went into PT because she was a bully!?”
“Now, hold on!” She shot to her feet.
That spelt the truth for you and while you still wanted other answers, you were amused by their display.
“Yeah! She has a thing for making people hurt and figured this was the field to go in!” Leo cackled.
She had to jump, but she pinched his cheek and dragged him right down to her eye level. “In front of my patient!? Nu-uh!”
Leo couldn’t help, but laugh and you joined.
“If you know him, then you know he lies through his teeth.” Lucinda released him and dusted her hands.
“He’s always working an angle.” You remarked.
“Yes!” She pointed at you with a grin. “If he wasn’t a hero, he’d be a total grifter!”
“What’s that old bit? Selling stolen VCRs?” You mused.
“Yes!” She reached out and patted your good arm in appreciation.
“How old do you think I am?!” Leo looked between you two.
“Considering I just found out a little more than a month ago…?” You pretended to wonder.
“Month?!” Lucinda rounded on Leo again. “What is the deal here?”
“Yeah, Leo? What’s the deal?” You spread a grin on thick.
Leo held up his hands and his brow came down in irritation. “Come on… You don’t need to gang up on me!”
“Then explain! I’m not trying to assume anything, but it’s hard not to notice my patient’s partner is also green.” Lucinda folded her arms to wait.
You blinked once as the connection hit you.
The news knew Donnie as a masked villain from the turtle’s rogue’s gallery.
The truth was far more complicated.
You wondered if Leo had ever dealt with this before.
“You know what they say about assuming?” Leo had a stark edge.
You knew the joke, but his serious attitude just barely threw Lucinda off as she said, “No…?”
“They make an ass out of you and me.” Leo didn’t let up his serious nature as he clapped a hand to her shoulder.
It took exactly one second for the joke to hit her and she shoved him. “Ugh, I hate you!”
“She’s mad she couldn’t hurt me because I don’t have a poppable spine.” Leo held up a hand as if telling you a secret.
“Would you-!?” She swatted at him and he easily dodged while he continued to laugh.
“You know…” You did your own solemn positing.
Lucinda stiffened.
“You haven’t denied anything he’s said about you…” You marked the end of your sentence with a jeering grin.
Her lips flattened out into a caught line and it was her turn to assuage guilt. “That’s-! I mean-!
You pretended to wait.
“Fine!” She wilted. “I’m not a bad guy though! It’s my dad! He always had me walking on his back or pulling his arms and stuff as a kid! I loved the sound! So I might have bugged my friends and got a reputation for being the resident finger popper! Look how it turned out! All’s good at the end of the day!”
You gave her an affectionate smile. “That’s cute actually.”
“No, it’s not!” Leo bellowed and then openly shivered. “You two can’t hear just how loud those sounds are! There’s a fizz almost like soda between the joints! Eugh!!”
“And my boss wonders why you didn’t stay on…” Lucinda shook her head.
“That’s not why-!” Leo bit with a lighthearted edge.
“Why did you…?” The question leaked out from you even though it meant you interrupted.
The pair looked at you before Lucinda turned with a look that said she knew her story had been shared and thought she deserved to reveal something of her own. “I don’t know how close you are, so he might try to argue, but he hopped on to help his baby bro out at like 18ish. You still had a baby face then.” She turned to coo at Leo.
He sneered.
“He was real cagey about it, I just mentioned his whole fake spiel, but the boss took pity on him and hired him to clean up so he could unofficially work on the job.” Lucinda continued and bumped Leo to show she was doing it in good will.
He took it with a sigh.
“Those cracks on Mikey’s arms?” You asked before another thought hit you. “The tear in space time…”
“The what?” That was news to Lucinda.
“Hup-hup-hup!” Leo’s hands waved viciously between you and during the flurry he sent you a look that said you were right, but you needed to drop it.
“You know!” You quacked. “Because they look like the time rifts in movies!”
Lucinda evaluated both of you evenly before she gave a slow nod. “Yeah, they kinda do… Anyway, Mikey was a rough case. Terrible loss in coordination, muscle tearing, spasms… I really felt for him. The whole office did once Leo finally brought him around.”
Leo turned his head, oddly not liking this spotlight.
You studied him as he usually seemed more like one to preen.
“His recovery was… amazing.” Lucinda moved on. “Mikey was so motivated. He ended up always lifting spirits at the office.”
“He does group therapy now.” You offered.
“Of course he does.” Lucinda gave a smile that said she didn’t know it, but wholeheartedly believed. “Great kid. Both of you.” She slugged Leo affectionately.
“Yeah, yeah…” Leo brushed her off with a sly smile.
“Your turn.” Lucinda pointed at you.
“Next set?” You pulled the band up, ready.
“No, why this is all hush hush?” She gestured around.
Leo shifted, trying to cover how uncomfortable he was.
You kept your eye on him.
You guessed you didn’t blame him for still thinking the worst of you.
You weren’t his biggest fan, but he’d come through for you and Donnie in a major way.
In this instance, you couldn’t imagine throwing him under the bus. “Hero business.” You gestured down your half wrapped body. “He got sucked into dealing with my attack.”
“You were…!” Lucinda trailed off as she caught herself. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my place…”
“It’s okay. You’ve been amazing. You’re really good at your job.” You meant every word.
She smiled with a tinge or relief.
Leo was looking at you in a similar way.
Donnie made a small noise.
You all turned towards him.
He coolly glanced between the group before landing on Lucinda. “Something urgent has come up. I need to step out for a moment.”
“Sure. We got this. Right, Y/N?” She turned to you.
You were about to respond affirmatively when Leo cut in.
“What.” Leo’s flat tone held accusation instead of question.
Donnie only flicked him a glance.
“Donatello…” Leo spoke weighty, painfully aware of the company.
“I’ll be nearby.” Donnie relented that much before looking at you.
With no indication on his facial features, you saw in his eyes that this was something wholly necessary and had to do with his ninpo research.
You turned to Leo and hoped you betrayed as little as Donnie. “You still remember how to do this, Leo?”
He resisted looking away from Donnie before his eyes fell to you and the resistance band in your hand.
“Sure.” There was a tart quality to his voice before he reached for the rubber. “Sure, yeah. I use these to warm up at the gym.”
Donnie gave you one last look that had a tinge of longing before he departed.
Leo demonstrated stretching the band behind his back and Lucinda pushed you to try the as of yet attempted advanced maneuver. It pinched your shoulder, but she held your arm, ready and testing, to make sure you could execute safely. You manage three tugs before you wilted in pain and she passed you a cloth to dab your sweat.
“Amazing. Seriously. You’re really working hard and I can tell you aren’t skimping when I’m not around.” She soothed you.
You hummed a sort of laugh into the towel. “The walks around the apartment suck the most.”
“Oof when we get you out of the cast and onto the bars?” She sympathized.
You groaned lightly until a chirpy ringtone went off.
You pulled your towel down to find Lucinda making a tight face and looking at a phone in her hand. “I apologize. I don’t normally take calls while working, but…”
Her eyes were glued to her screen and you sensed a problem. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” She answered. “Hello?”
You watched her walk into the living room and sank where you were propped at the edge of the bed.
Leo was looking to the side as if he could see through the walls to where Donnie had gone.
“He’ll be right back.” You tried to calm him.
Leo said nothing and slipped his hands into his pockets as he waited.
Lucinda’s voice grew worried and both of you were soon trying your best not to pry as she came over with a fit waging on her features. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m going to have to cut today’s treatment short. Something… I need to-”
“Everything okay?” Leo turned, his eyes examining.
“My mom fell. She’s already at the hospital and they say she’s stable, but I need to go.”
“Go, go.” You urged. “I’ll work through what we’ve done before.”
“Thank you. Hold onto the equipment. We’ll pick up with your session in two days.” She went for her bag nearby. “Actually, Leo can lead. Leo try some passive internal rotations and elbow extensions if possible. Otherwise, cool down.”
“You got it, boss.” Leo snapped his finger into pointing at her. “I’m sure your mom’s tough, she raised a bully after all.”
Lucinda snorted and waved him off with additional goodbyes as she left.
For a moment you both sat in silence.
“So... Passive… what now...?” You tried the air.
Now having his worries double, Leo looked at you with a waning expression before he wadded up the band. “Okay, we’re seriously doing this. Uh… Let’s see…”
“Why’d you say it like that?” You held a confused look and reached for the band.
“Maybe because I haven’t done PT in years?” He mirrored you and slapped your hand away.
“Hey!”
“So passive internal rotations work your supraspinatus…” He circled as if looking for something. “We need something long. Hey, do you have his stupid stick?”
“Are you joking right now?” You gave him a dull stare.
“No. It’ll work really well for this.” Leo approached you with an even temper.
“He keeps his bo on him.” You shook your head lightly.
“Damn.” Leo folded his hands on his hips. “The band is too stretchy. How about a big ruler?”
“Leo.”
“What’s it called? A yard stick?” Leo again did a little turn. “What else would be straight…?”
“Leo.”
“We could skip it for elbow extensions, but those are tougher…” He gave a weighty sigh, his eyes still moving.
“Hey.”
“Maybe we could sneak a curtain rod? There’s enough of them…” He looked past you to glare at the layers behind you on the windows.
He didn’t seem to hear you.
“Or this… thing?” He gestured to the canopy where the drapes were temporarily pinned out of the way.
He apparently also couldn’t remember he could portal to get anything he needed.
“It’s too clean!” Leo took a step that you clocked as nervous. “There’s stuff, but this place is…”
You tilted your head, studying him more carefully.
Like a slow cropping of data, you saw him piece by piece.
The barely there worried crease of his brow.
The way his lips kept parting the slightest amount.
The constant rove of his pupil.
His entire body was one twitch away from spasming.
“Leonardo.”
You watched the jolt happen in real time before he looked at you.
His gaze betrayed him.
It wasn’t that you called to him, it was how.
That was how Donnie said his name.
It made sense and you felt your expression sadden.
There it was again.
Everything was too much and you’d missed something so obvious.
It was like Leo though, you thought, to be the best at bearing the burden. Similar to how he accepted when you lashed out, it was his curse brought upon himself as you’d always seen it. He took his duty as his life and the current of which was basically cohabiting with the person who he considered had ruined it. His paranoia hadn’t evaporated just because he’d seen a new side of Donnie, he’d simply saddled up with his biggest fear so long that he’d grown a certain amount of numb to it.
He was also clearly entrenched in a never ending panic attack and his little naps during your physical therapy took a new light.
Donnie hadn’t been sleeping at night, but he had the dual excuse of fearing for his ninpo slipping in his sleep.
Leo had to keep one eye open from the couch.
“Why’d you…” He had almost a laugh to him though it was soaked in a certain level of misery he couldn’t keep out of his voice. “… say it like that?”
“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while.” You couldn’t move so you reached for him.
He only looked at your hand and twisted the resistance band up between his own.
It acted as a shield.
He had to keep his barrier.
“Leo… Do you need a sec-?”
“Elbow extensions!” He cut in, his eyes wild and unfocused. “Okay so let’s see how high you can reach!”
At this rate he was going to break.
Something was making this worse.
What was it?
Had he been at his limit?
What had pushed him?
You tried to trace back, but found little.
You reached up lightly in hopes he’d feel compelled by how you hadn’t dropped your gesture.
“How high!” He repeated as if he were the unseen coach on a television set.
You moved to raise your arms and felt the pull in your shoulders. “Leo, I’m not so sure-”
“Push it!”
“Leo!” Your hands just barely surpassed your head, but the muscles in your healing shoulder locked.
“Shit.” In a quake, his gaze honed and he came closer. “Hold still. Try not to drop it.”
“That’s easier said than done…!” Your expression pinched.
He fought against himself before slinging the resistance band over his shoulder and cupping his hands around your rotator cuff. “Slow, we’ll work it down. What was I saying…?”
“What’s going on?” You had unintentionally caught him.
“Don’t.”
“Leo.”
“This isn’t fair.” He pressed lightly into the muscle.
You jumped, but made it did little more than strain your insides.
He gave a soothing shush and rubbed with a lighter touch. “It’s a cramp. Give it a second.”
“In that second, you could tell me-”
“I’m not doing whatever you think I will. Not here. Not ever.” He glared at your arm instead of you.
Not here.
That was an odd specification.
Leo had been holding back.
He had his own emotional mask.
He paraded as a habit.
There was more than he let on.
You wished you had a better read on him.
You felt out of sorts.
Your usual prowess was diminished by the many stressors.
How could you pay attention when there was too much to watch?
You felt like sludge.
A dozen mental monitors were on and all of them vied for your attention.
In a single blink, you were sending a wide gaze to Leo.
His lips flattened out as if caught.
You watched a bead of sweat pock his forehead.
It wasn’t enough to trickle, but it was there.
He still had your arm.
It had yet to loosen.
“Darling Protocol.”
It was enough that Leo stopped.
“Cut all feeds until Donnie returns.”
For you, nothing had changed.
For Leo, he seemed struck as if the command was for him.
Then his gaze rose.
He moved, still holding you and looked around the corners of the room.
“Leo…?” You tested in a tiny voice.
“They’re… off…” He rolled wariness to you.
“It’s just us.”
“That’s worse!” He shouted.
He was too close and you winced. “I thought that’s what you want-!”
“Well you're wrong!” He pressed too hard into rubbing your shoulder.
You squeaked in pain for a moment before your arm suddenly drooped.
Leo shot several feet away and looked at you like he might explode.
“That’s…” You were extremely careful in testing your shoulder in a roll. “… way better. Wow.”
“Turn them back on! What was with that name? What is wrong with you!? It’s always something! Always you!”
“What are you talking about?” You exhaled irritation. “I thought you might want a break from the cameras. I’m trying to help! You’re the one acting like you’re caged up!”
“Yeah, because I’m locked in here with you!”
You stared at him openly.
His eyes sat enormous and trapped.
“With… me?”
He shook and wrapped a hand around his throat. “Fuck. Forget it! Just forget I said anything!”
“Leo.” You looked for your crutches.
“You’re stuck!” He pointed and saw an opening where nothing had changed. “I can go over here and you can’t do a thing about it!” He headed toward the partition.
“You sound like you’re five! You’re really going to run!?” You shouted after him and your helplessness drowned you in droves. “What do you mean me!? Shouldn’t it be Donnie?!”
“Donnie!?” He mocked your voice and came far enough around the wall to send an incensed gaze. “I’m not scared of him! I’m scared of you-!!!”
The slap of his hand against his mouth was so loud it echoed.
You had no idea what was happening.
Each consecutive action he made seemed newer than the last.
Your powers of perception were a joke.
You didn’t know a single thing.
Your lips parted, but he moved first.
“Fuck!!!” He socked the wall so hard that cracks split and crawled around the edges. “Oh, fuck that’s worse…” He stared at his damage and wobbled further out into the open where you could see him. “No, no, no… What am I-?! Fuck! I haven’t been to the gym in months! I’m-!!!”
You could only watch as he fell apart.
Shreds of him unraveled with a spool and he made it a few more steps on a wobbly form. “Keep it together. I can keep it together.”
“You don’t have to…” You whispered as quietly as you could.
“I don’t have…” He mimed it back. “No…” He stabilized in a slouch. “Yeah, I don't. No. I’m fine. I’ve been fine. I’ll be fine.”
The whole of him lost mass like a dropped ball of yarn.
“Cool down. You need to finish your exercises.” He marched over, a snag still caught and he lost more of himself on the way.
You couldn’t believe he was trying to drop this.
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to look at that pathetic face. I’m not going to explain.”
“Are you telling me or you?”
“It’s a trick. You're trying to trick me and I’m not playing.”
“Stop answering then.” You sharpened your glare.
“I-!” He breathed hard as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“Are you scared of Mikey too?”
Leo reared. “Why would I be?”
“He’s always trying to get you to go to therapy.”
Leo barked a single acidic laugh. “What? You think you’re helping me?! You have no idea!”
“Then tell me!”
“No!”
“Then stop acting out!”
“I’m not!”
“You cracked a wall because you’re scared of some human!”
“I’m not scared of you!”
“That’s not what you said!”
Leo rose as high as he could without going on the tips of his toes.
Instead of menace, you saw the last strings of his will holding him up.
The slightest press would cause what was left of him to unfurl and he’d be nothing more than a long line of everything he’d ever done.
You had a choice.
You could be his undoing or you could leave it be.
“Leo.”
You spoke.
He listened, his mouth a thin line.
You reached up with your good hand to gesture to your bad shoulder.
On his mirrored body, that’s where the resistance band still hung.
He loosely puppetted as you directed and, as he brushed it, it startled him.
You watched his gaze narrow more and more as he pulled the thing down to cradle in his palm.
A loose and floppy bit of rubber, he looked as though he’d sob over its lifeless body.
Instead he shifted his grip and wound the edges around his fists.
Then he pulled the band across his body and for a blissful moment, he wasn’t here.
He was at his beloved gym and his thoughts were clear.
He spoke.
“I don’t hate you. I’m not… scared scared of you, but damnit, Y/N.” He pulled the band as far apart as it would go and you thought it might snap. “I can’t… keep pretending like being around you is fine and dandy. I knew what to expect from Donatello. I knew…” The edge came again and he yanked so hard you saw a tear form in the middle of the band. “I knew…” Coiling his hands another loop, this time he pulled as if he had the intention to break it. “I knew-!” In a rapid bungee bounce, it split and both sides whipped him. “I knew I would never reach him! I banked on it! I pushed the others back after their attempts! I wouldn’t let them get closer! That left me! Did I think I could do it? Fuck no! I didn’t think I could do a single thing, but that’s what you do when you care! You stick your neck out again and again! You do everything you can! You put your life on the line! You show them-! You show them-!”
His own twine snapped, his entire being drooped.
“You know what I am?”
Your heart beat heavy in your chest.
“I’m…” He had to look away, loose straps of rubber dangling in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this.”
You fisted the loose sweats that fit over your cast.
“I’m jealous.” He told you, his eyes glazed.
You felt your own well.
“I’m jealous of you.” He doubled the effort and with it came pressure on his lips. “I’d buried it so goddamn deep. That’s where it was supposed to stay, but no! You couldn’t leave it alone! You kept digging! Every time! Every single time! Until you dug it out of me! I’m scared of that! I’m scared of what you keep doing to me! To us! You could have dropped it! I treated you like shit! You were supposed to drop it! You were supposed to leave. You weren’t supposed to make it! You were going to be my excuse! You would have been the final straw! Enough! So that I could finally… make it make sense! We made sense! We’d given up! That’s how we were! It wasn’t happy, but it was what we…!” He dropped the pieces he clung to.
Your throat swallowed your heart.
“I was a hero.” He hunched into himself. “I was the best. I was the leader. I saved everyone. I couldn’t save-!” He choked and sent prayers toward you. “You did it over a fucking sandwich!!!”
Tears loosed and dotted your hands.
“My family is all I have and I couldn’t save him…!” Leo’s knees hit the ground so hard it covered up the raw shout slicing his throat right before he went ghostly quiet. “I’m so tired.”
You pressed your hands to your chest to keep yourself in check.
He didn’t need your tears.
He didn’t need anything more from you.
No matter how, this was your doing.
“I only ever needed my family…” Leo wept.
You couldn’t move.
You couldn’t do anything.
You could only watch.
Leo shook out a few more tears before he held a hand up as if grabbing a pole.
A sword appeared in an etching of blue and from it he sliced into the floor and opened a portal.
He then drew his other limb, heavy as lead, up from his side where his phone was picked from his pocket.
He punched a few numbers in and stared over the abyss he’d created.
“Mike.”
You couldn’t hear the other line.
“Code green. Portals in the strategy room.” Leo pulled his phone away and you watched as his thumb slammed the end call button.
He then moved methodically, as if to sip elixir from the blue pool, and dipped his hand into the portal.
His arm jostled from some movement on the other side and then his muscles went taunt under his sweater as he pulled.
He fell.
Straight down and out of the apartment and, like a swapped mirror, Mikey was thrust up and out.
The younger brother spun around, clearly confused as he floated above the portal until it disappeared.
He then searched around until his eyes landed on you and he soared over.
“Are you okay? What was that? What happened…?” Mikey hovered close and gingerly took your shoulders.
It was the right amount of pressure and sobs broke free from you.
Mikey held you close and asked no more.
You didn’t hear the front door click, but you did hear Donnie’s voice. “I apologize. That call was… of… the…!”
He ran.
“Don-na-tello…” Mikey croaked through snivels.
“What’s…?”
As soon as you sensed Donnie close enough you shot your bad arm out, caught a fistful of his top, and yanked him in.
Mikey moved to one side and you clutched both of them to keep them together. It took Donnie several long minutes until he brought an arm around you.
💜NEXT💜
Through sickness and health, my darling betas have my undying love @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83
This is where the spice art goes @thegrumpyspice - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
