Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were never supposed to be on the surface by themselves. Splinter had always enforced a strict buddy protocol; however, Donnie didn’t have any other choice.

You see, he was so close to a breakthrough in his latest project, an upgrade to the drill that would possibly allow him to progress it out of beta – finally.

Unfortunately in a twisted turn of fate it seems that he had run out of a specific copper alloy that he needed for his delicate wiring. And no, he would not lower himself to using sub-par copper, only the best would suffice for his drill. So now he was questing to his favourite scrapyard.

Now this alone is not an excuse for him to be out without a buddy, and he would be more than happy to go scrapping with his brothers, but they were all preoccupied at the moment, and he couldn’t just wait for their next availability.

Mikey, who usually joined him to look for materials, was trying his hand at a new dish, one he apparently couldn’t step away from and it was well known that tearing Mikey’s attention from his cooking was similar to attempting to draw Donnie away from one of his inventions – that is – entirely impossible and dangerous.

Leo had already grabbed Raph as a buddy for his own venture to ‘Run of the Mill’ Pizza, no doubt so he could oggle at that new rabbit waiter. Ugh, gross.

Anyway, even if Raph was free from supervising Leo drool over this waiter (he still needed to do a background check on him – just in case) it was very unlikely that Raph would join him, as he would take one look at his eyebags that suggested nights of subpar sleep and would force him to bed, and Donnie couldn’t have that.

So, Donnie obviously couldn’t wait for one of his brothers to become available, he was running on spite and seven cups of coffee, if he stopped now then he would surely fall dead asleep and that would not do. Not when he was so close to finishing this upgrade.

Donnie picked his way through various scraps, wiping away some rust to get a closer look and brushing away a particularly stubborn beetle. Picking out pieces that stood out to him and placing them in his battle shell, it was always very distracting whenever he visited a scrap yard. He always found himself collecting materials that he had no specific use for, but he couldn’t just leave them. He likened it to going grocery shopping while hungry, sure he may not need this circuit board, but it wasn’t like it was going to go bad, and no one was going to use it anyway!

His eyes scanned the scrap yard rapidly, not wanting to miss anything-

There!

A flash of green crossed his vision.

'uranium?'

But no, he realised that what he saw was not his most desired wish but an oozesquito, glowing an eerie green and resting on the hood of a busted car.

Slightly disappointed, but no less intrigued, he crept closer to the insect.

While he wasn’t surprised that he and his brothers hadn’t fully exterminated all of the horrid insects, it still sent a jolt of displeasure through him that they were still flying free, able to sting and mutate more humans and potentially create dangerous villains that could put his brothers into even more danger.

Slowly, he took his tech-bo out of his battle shell and pressed a certain button, converting the tech-bo into a net, perfect for this situation. Raising the net, he carefully eyed the insect and quickly brought it down.

Smack!

The net hit against the car hood, but the oozesquito had evaded capture and was flying off.

“Oh no you don’t!” he called, running after the insect, furiously swiping at it with his net.

After a few more attempts, it was clear that his approach was not working and the oozesquito was flying higher and higher out of reach, he cursed not wearing his jet pack battle shell and jumped up after it, a final attempt before it would be out of reach.

“Come back here you foul Culicidae!”

At the very last second however, the oozesquito doubled back, flying directly towards him, the trajectory of his net was suddenly way off, and he fumbled.

Panicking, he saw the insect approach ever closer, and made a mad grab towards it. Surprisingly, his fist closed over the insect and he fell back towards the ground, tucking into a roll and sticking the landing.

A sharp sting suddenly came from his hand.

Donnie opened his hand to reveal a slightly squished oozesquito, looking a little worse for wear. The most alarming detail however, was that its abdomen no longer contained the green glow of the ooze and there was a throbbing red sting wound on his palm.

He had a short moment to reflect on how he probably shouldn’t have touched the oozesquito with his bare hands before

Everything

Went

White

He had never felt pain like this before, it reached every corner of his mind, and he was unable to think of anything else other than the unnatural ways his body was contorting.

Donnie let out a silent scream as he fell to his hands and knees, his muscles shaking with tension as he was sure that he was going to die, not felled in a blaze of glory but by his own stupidity.

Honestly. He expected better.

After what felt like hours of this all-encompassing pain, the pain on his shell somehow got worse and increased further to a crescendo.

His battle shell! Donnie still had it on, and the pressure it was exerting on his shell was excruciating.

Clawing blindly at the release mechanism, it took a couple of attempts until the artificial shell was dropped with a deft thud onto the ground.

But the pain didn’t recede by much, instead something much worse took its place.

Riiiippp

Donnie let out a choked gasp, his shell was tearing apart! The most horrible part was that he could feel it, he could feel the separation slowly get wider and wider. The tear starting from the base of his shell near his tail and was steadily and methodically travelling up.

Riiiipp-sckp

Once the sickening feeling reached the top of his shell, his now split shell suddenly jerked away from his back, lifting like a hinge, revealing whatever foreign thing now lay within his back.

And something stretched.

And something flexed.

And,

It was over.

The pain had vanished so quickly he almost believed he had imagined the entire thing. It was illogical. There were no phantom pains or lingering exhaustion from the ordeal. Just nothing.

Donnie breathed a sigh of relief.

Then his shell moved.

Now Donnie did (past tense?) have a soft shell, that much is true. It granted him a degree of flexibility that his brothers simply didn’t have, much to their jealousy. So it wasn’t so strange for it to shift or bend a little. But not like this, and definitely not of its own volition, with nothing pressing against it.  

Donnie jerked forward, as if he could escape the wretched feeling on (in?) his shell. Donnie staggered to his feet; hands clenched tightly as he fought for balance. Not because of fatigue, but because his centre of balance had shifted somewhat.

“what the-“, He murmured as he took a deep breath as he prepared to look at what had become of his shell.

Oh,

Well that is certainly not… normal

Donnie started hyperventilating. Because what lay on his back was not his normal mottled green shell, instead it was much smoother, and had very small ridges running down it length and a more reflective quality to it, but what really caught his eye and made Donnie sick to his stomach was the massive chasm splitting the shell into two. 

the split was neat, the edges of each half smooth, not at all looking like the horrible wound he had imagined. he would go as far to say that it looked natural, except that it wasn't, because his back was not supposed to look like that.

Like it was responding to his panic, like it was part of him, muscles which he didn’t have just mere minutes ago flexed and the two halves of his shell (was it a shell?) smoothly lifted from his back, blocking his view of what lay underneath.

He turned to find a particularly reflective piece of metal so he could turn in such a way that would allow him to see… whatever this was. After finding the aforementioned piece of metal had him he found himself hesitating.

Though he felt no pain, he knew that his shell was what was protecting several vital organs as well as his spine, was that what he was going to see, his exposed icky, gooey organs?

Biologically it made sense, though for the first time, he hoped that science was wrong in this situation (Biology was his least favourite science anyway, especially after the Kraang).

Gathering his courage, he turned and looked at what lay under his shell.

And blinked.

And blinked again for good measure.

Under his shell lay three pairs of gossamer thin wings, insectoid in appearance. They vibrated slightly, as if responding to Donnie acknowledging their presence, emitting a low buzzing sound. The light refracted off of them, making them almost seem to glow a soft lavender.

Donnie exhaled, eyes wide and unbelieving, for his shell was no longer a shell, it was no longer protecting only a spine and organs but wings.

What lay on his back was an elytra.

Chapter Text

Ah.

Well this is certainly a change

He said not at all sarcastically.

Looking at the new addition to his anatomy had sent Donnie’s mind into overdrive and had also shocked it still, he was in a strange limbo between panicking and perfect calm.

With a shaky hum, he tore his gaze away from his shell (elytra? How does one even refer to this?) and began to inspect the rest of his body.
He had very little data to fall back on in this situation. But he grappled with what he had.

It was very unlikely that his shell (Donnie will stick with calling it a shell for now, calling it anything else brought up some icky feelings that he really didn’t want to address) was the only mutation, seeing as other mutants had full body changes, becoming almost unrecognisable. However, it was obvious that he still retained most of his original form, which he was extremely grateful for by the way, so because this was a second mutation the effects must be different, unknown.

And didn’t that send a jolt down his spine, there was no data, this was uncharted territory.

He hated it.

Anyway.

His skin had not changed at first glance, it was still the same scaly green, though on closer inspection, it seemed a little harder, the texture a little off. If Donnie’s theory of him being partly mutated into some kind of beetle was correct, then this may be a reflection of an insect’s exoskeleton. Insects have a hard exoskeleton instead of bones, Donnie hoped he still had all his bones.

Wasn’t that a strange thing to wish for?

Another change was on his fingers, they seemed to have minute grippers or hairs on them, which he could only sense through the texture change and the strange noise they made when they rubbed together. Donnie was just about to pull down his goggles to get a closer look when he felt something on his head.

Antenna

They had been trapped under his mask, short enough that they didn’t poke out, but they were there. As Donnie removed his mask he was suddenly hit with a barrage of new information - smells.

Now Donnie’s sense of smell was already very strong, but this was a different kind of smell. He could pick up entirely new scents that he couldn’t even describe. He also could get an extremely accurate temperature reading of his environment and the air pressure and he could smell the minute concentrations of hydrocarbons in the air and the mould of a rotting hotdog someone left out and he could smell the pheromones of the ant colony five meters to his left and-

Donnie shoved the antennae back under his mask.

The smells receded but didn’t go away entirely, but Donnie was left reeling from that experience.

“wow, okay, that. That was something.” He murmured to himself, hands coming to his sides and starting to scratch, as he recovered from the sudden influx of information.

After repeating some of the breathing exercises that April had taught Raph he felt calm enough to return to his analysis.

“So, my current list of physical changes so far; insectoid wings covered by my shell- the elytra, slightly hardened skin into a sort of proto-exoskeleton, small tactile spines on my fingers, and hypersensitive antennae. Okay, okay. Coolcoolcool, that’s not a lot at all.”

Donnie lifted his foot, and yes, it also had the tactile spines as well, and unfortunately, they were noticeably larger, but would still go unnoticed under close inspection.

As Donnie started to pace, he noticed something slightly off with his stride, it was like he was going too fast, his usual steps were taking him further than he expected them to. He stopped as he inspected this, yes, the ground was definitely further away than it should have been. Quickly he reached for his battle shell, faltering when he reached behind him (almost touching it) before redirecting to where it sat on the ground.

He retrieved his measuring tape, just one of the many miscellaneous items in his battle shell, and measured himself, head to toe.

Five foot eleven.

He had been five foot seven this morning. He had grown four inches.

It made sense, whenever humans got mutated there was always some physical growth (his dad was the exception) so it made sense for him to follow the same pattern. But seriously.

How was he going to hide this from his brothers?

Was he going to hide it from them?

That was a stupid question, of course he was.

This was all a consequence of his own stupidity, after all who grabs an oozesquito filled with volatile chemicals? Apparently, Donatello that’s who. He was supposed to be the smart one, he couldn’t ruin that, he couldn’t give them reason to doubt his intellect.

Groaning to himself, he gathered his battle shell in his arms, attempting to place it on his shell (his shell). However, it didn’t fit.

He had designed his battle shell specifically for his shell, its size and exact dimensions were taken and applied with great precision, making the battle shell fit like a glove.

But it didn’t fit anymore. Because he had changed.

It made his skin crawl.

He hoisted the battle shell into his arms instead, not even attempting to put up with the sensation of his battle shell being an imperfect fit. No. His battle shell was perfect, he had made it after all, it was his shell that was imperfect.

Donnie began the long trek back to the lair. Planning his next move.

Of all his newly acquired features, the shell would be the most difficult to hide. The antennae would be easy enough, he only had to hide them under his mask, and his skin and hands were unnoticeable unless someone touched him for too long, which he was never fond of any way, and as for his new found height, he would simply slouch like he never had before, he couldn't mess up his posture more than he already had.

His shell though

(the elytra, the wings)

Until he readjusted his battle shell, which would take a few days (he would also have to measure his shell by himself) he would have to cover it with the meagre protection of fabric, of a hoodie most likely.

That produced another conundrum.

His brothers had this awful tendency of looking out for him.

They would surly suspect something is up when he stops wearing his battle shells in favour of hoodies, and stops going on missions (he can’t go on missions without his battle shell!).

The solution to that problem is simple, he simply will not see his brothers. Donnie will be too busy figuring out how to fix this mistake to take part in family bonding time anyway.

It will be fine.

He’ll be fine.

(a soft buzz emanates from his shell)

Chapter Text

Donnie narrowed his eyes at the manhole cover in front him.

It seems he had found a little snag in his plan, getting to his lab without encountering anyone. He couldn't wear his battle shell, and he refused to go dumpster diving for some kind of hoodie, so his shell would be exposed for anyone to see.

He had been gone for a few hours, it was shocking just how much had changed in so little time, but luckily no one seemed to have noticed he had gone, given by the lack of phone calls. So it was perfectly feasible that they thought he was still in his lab.

He would have to plan out his path through the lair to his lab carefully, so there was the lowest chance of one of his brothers catching him. Donnie could do that, he was a ninja after all, it is certainly in his skill set to be sneaky.

Holding his battle shell in one hand, he climbed down the ladder into the sewers. Forgoing the final couple rungs, he jumped down, the sound of his landing echoed through the dark tunnels.

After a series of familiar twists of turns, he came across the entrance to the lair. There were multiple of these, and he had planned his path to lead to the entrance closest to his lab.

Donnie stopped for a few seconds, straining his hearing to listen for any sound that his brothers were nearby.

(his antennae told him that Mikey was still in at kitchen cooking with -ew- mushrooms)

He slowly made his way down the corridor towards his lab, stopping every few meters whenever he heard the faint sounds of his family in the lair. He swore his footsteps were loud enough to cause all of them to come running.

(Raph was training, he could smell his sweat)

Donnie kept his shell turned minutely towards the wall, just in case.

After a painstaking journey steeped in paranoia, Donnie finally made it to his lab, he smiled in triumph, just around this corner and-

Leo was leaning on the open door to his lab, sipping a beverage.

(It was hot chocolate, it had some spices in it as well, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon- shut up)

Donnie froze.

“Hey Donnie,”

Leo took a long sip from his drink. Donnie’s eye twitched.

“where’ve you been?”

Well, this posed quite the conundrum. He would have to get past Leo and into his lab, all without turning his back on Leo, and without arising too much suspicion.

Too much lay in Leo’s hands, if he was feeling particularly vindictive, he could very easily snitch on him, which usually consisted of Leo dragging Donnie to Raph for some good old public humiliation, usually after witnessing a concerning number of empty mugs that smelt of too much caffeine. And if that were to occur in this situation, if Leo attempted to take Donnie to the others, Donnie’s shell would be noticed immediately.

This was a very delicate situation.

He would have to be very careful with his words.

“Nowhere that concerns you, Dear Brother. Now if you don’t mind, I very much would like to return to the solitude of my lab.”

Ah, he has made a mistake, he didn’t like the expression that was growing on Leo’s face.

You see, Donnie used to be terrible at understanding the many expressions that graced one’s face. But, like with his shell, once he had identified the problem he made steps to fix it and improve. So Donnie had collected data on the many expressions of his brothers.

After days of discrete monitoring (he had quickly learned that asking his brothers to express these emotions and fill out questionnaires on their feelings was a method extremely susceptible to bias, and the results were often inaccurate, mostly due to Leo convincing Donnie that his ‘guilty face’ was in fact one of complete honesty) Donnie had crafted a detailed table of different expressions and their meanings, which he quickly memorised.

This is how he knew that Leo’s expression meant that he thought Donnie was being very suspicious, and Leo could very easily get him in trouble. And Leo knew it.

“Come onnn Dee, you can tell me. Actually no, wait, I can guess…”

Leo tapped his finger against his chin, Donnie shuffled in place, effectively trapped as Leo was blocking the entrance to his lab. Anyone could come up behind him and see what his shell had become.

“GASP, you went to a Jupiter Jim movie, no! You went to get pizza, hmm no that’s not it... you were experimenting on squirrels in the park! No, no, I got it,”

As his guesses got more and more outlandish, Donnie got more and more frustrated. Honestly, how could he go to the moon? His teleportation device was still only theoretical.

Finally, Donnie snapped,

“Fine! I went to the scrap yard, you happy?”

“Happy?! You went out to the surface? Without us? I feel hurt, truly” Leo dramatically brought his hand up to his forehead, closing his eyes as if agonising over a terrible betrayal.

Normally, Donnie would just barge past Leo and into his lab, with varying success in shutting Leo out, but his couldn’t do that now, his shell would be in clear view. So he awkwardly remained where he was.

Leo stayed in that pose for a few seconds, before opening one of his eyes, to look at Donnie, who was still standing, slouched, in the middle of the corridor. His battle shell held in his hands. He looked miserable

“Hey, what happened to your battle shell? Did it break?” Leo asked,

“Condescending chuckle, of course not, my tech never breaks”. Donnie retorted.

“Firstly, tell that to last week”

“That invention was in beta, it doesn’t count”

“And secondly, if it isn’t broken, why aren’t you wearing it, you okay?” Leo asked, leaning forward, making eye contact and squinting at his brother.

The genuine concern made Donnie falter a little. He didn’t think not wearing his battle shell was that weird, was it? Donnie looked to the side, away from Leo's piercing gaze.

Donnie had to come up with a reply, stat, but he couldn’t just say ‘oh I got mutated by an oozesquito and the secondary mutation caused my shell to change shape so much that my battle will no longer fit comfortably over it’ which means Donnie would have to lie.

Donnie wasn’t very good at lying, this was well known.

Luckily, he had planned for this.

He took a deep breath,

and proceeded to infodump.

Jumbling big, scientific words together, and explaining features of his battle shell in round about ways that would be sure to send even someone familiar with the material spinning.

“-and because of the exothermic properties of the lithium electrode, the cationic surfactant was at risk of dissociating into its constituent ions so consequently-“as he was talking however, a muscle that he didn’t have twitched, and he felt his shell shift somewhat, lifting from its place on his back.

Quickly removing a hand from his battle shell (which was not broken) and firmly placing on his shell -his shell- and oh, he hated the new texture. This was so wrong.

If he faltered in his long-winded explanation, Leo didn’t notice.

“And because of the battle shells reliance on the decomposition of the ionic lattice in proving a basis for ambient-“

And yes! There it was, Leo’s eyes glazed over as he attempted to compute the barrage of technical language. The Muscles Donnie Didn’t Have twitched again, pressing against his hand, which he kept stubbornly in place.

“okay, chill jeez, I didn’t ask for an entire thesis on it” Leo complained finally breaking and interrupting his speech, “go use your nerd stuff to fix your broken shell then, but I wont forget you sneaking out”

After that subtle threat, Leo rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving the path to Donnie’s lab open. Donnie quickly slipped inside and shut the door, locking it.

He sunk to the floor, looking up at the purple LEDs that populated his ceiling.

I will Leo, he thought to himself, I will fix my broken shell.

Chapter Text

After sitting on the floor against the door to his lab staring at the ceiling for a good few minutes, Donnie slowly made his way to his feet

He walked to his desk, dragging his feet, to retrieve his well-worn purple hoodie that was thrown over the back of the chair.

As he picked it up, the fabric seemed to stick to his hands. With an odd disconnect he released his grip on the hoodie, yet the hoodie did not fall. It hung loosely from his fingers.

Donnie stared at this for a long moment. Before his breath hitched and he quickly tore his hands away, desperately pulling the hoodie over his head.

He stood there for another minute, holding his hands away from himself. Donnie watched the slight tremble in his hands from what seemed like far away, he felt like he was hanging just a little to the left of his own body.

Suddenly taking a deep breath, and with a full body shiver he heavily sat down in his chair, turning on his computer and accessing his algorithms.

“Alright, lets fix this” he murmured.

“I can whip up a retro-mutagen in no time, nothing like a little dabbling in the genetic code. I can do this. I’ve done more with less.”

He was a genius after all.

I can do this, he repeated like a mantra in his head, as he started analysing the changes to his DNA.

I can’t do this.

Donnie lay flopped over his desk, face pressed into his keyboard, surrounded by too many empty coffee mugs. He had been at it for hours.

He had sequenced his DNA and found the exact genes that had been switched around and manipulated by the wretched insect. He had even synthesised a retro-mutagen that should work in theory.

However, when he tested it on a small sample of his cells, it seemed to work too well.

You see, the mutagen had left behind a chemical signature, which is what the retro-mutagen bound to and reversed, however, the chemical signature from his initial mutation and his second one was exactly the same.

If he used the retro-mutagen on himself (not even considering that he didn’t have nearly enough materials or time to make a full dose) then the retro-mutagen would affect both of his mutations and he would be reverted to a normal, non-mutated softshell turtle.

That would be even more disastrous than the situation he found himself in now, because as a normal turtle, he would be without his famous intellect, and then where would his brothers be? They certainly didn’t have the scientific know how to re-mutate him. And he definitely wasn’t putting his life in Draxum’s hands that’s for sure.

And that’s not even taking into consideration the question of what if he was to be returned from a normal softshell turtle, would he even be the same? Would Donnie have ceased to exist? Would he retain his memories? It was an existential crisis for another day, and he had other, more urgent, things to worry about.

He had agonised over ways to make the retro-mutagen target only the second mutation, but it was impossible, every experiment, every tweak in the chemical formulae lead to either the same result or a horrible failure that had him gagging.

He let out a low groan into his keyboard.

He dragged his hand over his desk, the tactile spines on his fingers catching on the many papers littered over it. There had been a steep learning curve to figure out how to grasp and let go of things on command. While Donnie would much rather just ignore all of his newly acquired mutations, this one unfortunately had to be addressed.

Donnie quickly figured out that if he flexed his fingers just like so, the spines would detach from what ever they had been attached to, and it would fall free.

Donnie had also found that if he tensed his fingers in a way he couldn’t put into words, the spines rose even further, much like the hair on a human’s arm in the cold, this allowed the spines to form a much stronger grip.

And though he was trying not to think about it, the scientist in him wondered if the grip would be strong enough to climb vertically up a smooth surface.

While he had been sequencing his DNA, Donnie had also found what exactly he had been partially mutated into; a Nuttall’s Blister Beetle, or more specifically, Lytta nuttalli.

After searching up for more information about this particular species, he decided to take a sample of his saliva, as the bite of a blister beetle included the toxin cantharidin, and it would be very useful to know whether his bite could be considered venomous.

The test came back positive, and while Donnie now seemed to have an immunity to the toxin, there was now a high concentration of cantharidin being continuously secreted from his salivary glands in his mouth.

This brought up a new concern.

In nature, a blister beetle bite would only irritate the skin, producing a blister. The toxin would not be directly inserted directly into the blood, as the bite of the beetle was not strong enough to break the skin.

However, due to his original mutation causing Donnie to have quite sharp teeth, if he was to bite someone (which he did more often than he would like to admit) he would easily break the skin and the cantharidin would certainly get into the blood. And his face paled as he read the effects of this particular toxin; abdominal pain, vomiting, kidney damage and even cause someone to go into shock.

It didn’t help that the toxin currently residing in his mouth was much more potent than that of a normal blister beetle. It was also very concerning to read that there was no specific antidote to cantharidin.

Donnie wondered if he could make one.

But until then, he would have to make sure that anything that touched his mouth was thoroughly decontaminated.

Donnie glared at the empty mugs strewn around his desk, all of them could have traces of the toxin, if his brothers ingested any of it, the consequences could be dire. He could not be responsible for any harm befalling his family.

Donnie’s gaze lifted off of his screen and to the battle shell laying in the corner.

He still needed to refit his battle shell.

He turned back to continue looking up facts about blister beetles. Donnie knew he was procrastinating. And he had two very good reasons for it.

Firstly, he really did not want to measure his shell. That would mean he would have to look at it, and he had been doing very well at avoiding that ever since the initial mutation in the morning (or was it yesterday now?).

He disliked his brothers touching his shell most days, so for something to come along and change it so easily and so dramatically was not an easy thought.

Secondly, he would be making permanent changes to his battle shell, and that would mean that he was acknowledging that these changes were here to stay, that he would have to deal with the shifting of his body, with the addition of new muscles and features.

Adjusting his battle shell would mean, on some level, he would have to accept that he would be like this for a while (Not forever, he could figure out a cure, he just needed more time).

Donnie really didn’t want to refit his battle shell.

So he turned back to his screen, searching up various studies on blister beetles, and treatments for cantharidin.

hm, apparently blister beetles are particularly harmful to horses, ingesting four to six grams of the beetles can be fatal to the equines. Interesting.

Donnie really didn’t want to refit his battle shell.

A knock at his lab’s door jolted him from his sour musings.

“shellooo! Donnie? Open the door, you’ve been in your lab for ages!”

Ah, it was Mikey. He had to open the door for him.

Donnie double checked that the (it wasn’t his) shell was covered completely by his hoodie, and the antennae were still hidden under his mask, before slowly rising from his chair, his joints aching as he moved from his hunched over position on is desk for the first time in hours.

He shuffled over to the entrance, unlocking and opening the door to come face to face with his smiling brother.

Chapter Text

“Hey Dee! …woah, you look terrible” Mikey said, taking in Donnie’s haggard appearance.

“Science waits for no turtle, my dear ‘Angelo” Donnie grunted in responce, hoping his smile looked convincing enough to fool his most emotionally intelligent brother. Based on Mikey’s expression, he was not fooled.

“Donnie, when was the last time you slept? Or ate for that matter?” he questioned, leaning forwards into Donnie’s personal space, reaching out his hand as if to pull back Donnie’s mask to check just how deep his eyebags were.

“I slept.” Donnie responded, slapping Mikey’s hand away a little too roughly. Whether it was out of fear of Mikey noticing the hidden antennae under his mask or for the fact that Mikey’s hand was getting too close to his mouth.

It was probably both.

“hm.” Mikey retracted his hand, and if he was hurt by Donnie’s reaction, he didn’t show it, Mikey narrowed his eyes at Donnie.

It felt as if he could see right through his mask, as if he could see just what Donnie had become.

“So! Donnie! You can come downstairs, spend some time with the family, have some of my cooking. I think I’ve finally perfected my souffle! You would not believe just how many tries it took, turns out the trick is whisking the eggs just right, too much or too little and it will totally ruin- anyway, you’ll eat with us and then go to your room and then take a nap. Capeesh?” Mikey smiled.

Ugh, Donnie couldn’t describe just how much he didn’t want to do that. He still had so much he needed to do; further research into the retro-mutagen, creating an anti-venom, refitting his battle shell (which he still didn’t want to do).

Also, extended interaction with his family did not sound like a good time. They knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, and they would definitely notice something was up. And the energy it would take to keep up appearances absolutely send him over the edge and into a mental breakdown.

And Donnie did not have time for that right now.

Mikey noticed his hesitance and his smile became fixed, and his eyes dangerous.

“Hey Don, I don’t think you understand. You ARE coming downstairs. And you ARE going to appreciate my cooking and you ARE going to have fun with everyone and then you ARE going to go to SLEEP” Mikey -no- Doctor Delicate-Touch commanded.

How would Donnie normally react to this?

“Uh. Yeah sure Mikey, let me just put something away, Ill be down in a second”, he said, quickly walking back into his lab, (without turning his back on Mikey). Mikey, sufficiently pleased, nodded, a genuine smile on his face now.

“Okie! See you there Donnie”

And he skipped away, no doubt to gather the rest of the family.

Normally, such an interaction was well within the norm. Donnie would often spend too long in his lab, and his brothers would be the ones to drag him out (sometimes literally) and force him to take care of his body.

Donnie usually was okay with this, it was beneficial to him after all, only resulting in minor embarrassment, such as when he fell asleep face first into his cereal. He depended on his brothers getting him out of his lab.

But now? It was very much not needed. What he needed was to recede back into his lab and figure out how to fix this horrible situation. Mikey couldn’t have known that, it wasn’t his fault.

But now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, between Charybdis and Scylla, and there was no good path forward.

As he stood in the middle of his lab, he contemplated his options.

Option one.

He stays in his lab, isolating himself from his brothers and continues to work on fixing... this while situation.

Pros: he didn’t have to talk to anyone, and he could continue his work.

Cons: they had the emergency unlock from last time he had tried to pull that, and his brothers would immediately know something was up, and they would most likely figure out what had happened. And he would be making Mikey upset.

Option two.

He goes downstairs, eats food with his family, then he goes to bed.

Pros: his family remains unaware of his current condition, eating and sleeping will improve his cognitive abilities and increase his chance of returning to his original state. Mikey would be happy.

Cons: high risk, there was a high chance of his brothers figuring out that something was up. There was also a risk of him falling apart.

Weighing his options, Donnie sighed and went to the pile of clothes in the cosier corner of his lab.

He searched for a second before finding what he was looking for. It was an abnormally long scarf April had given his as a ‘joke’ gift. It, like all of his clothing, was purple.

It was also a thin enough material and long enough that he could wrap it multiple times around his middle without it being noticeable.

A better substitute would be bandages from the sickbay, however they were already running low after the Kraang invasion and hadn’t yet completely restocked, and it would be a waste to use bandages when he wasn’t actively bleeding. Not mentioning how easily he would be caught if he went rummaging for medical supplies and the immediate questioning that would follow.

Donnie remembered that when he was talking to Leo outside his lab, the shell had started to move on its own volition, extending from his back. If that was to happen during dinner, there was no guarantee that Donnie could be able to stop it like he did with his brief conversation with Leo. This was the safest course of action.

Steeling his nerves, Donnie started to take off his hoodie, exposing the base shell.

Did he lock the door?

Sliding the hoodie back on, he looked around checking the door -yes it was locked.

He hooked his hands over the bottom of the hoodie once more

But did he really lock it?

Letting go of the hoodie, he checked on the door once more.

It was still locked.

This was a pathetic attempt at procrastination.

With a sudden burst of anger, he tore off his hoodie, dropping it on the floor.

He was glad he wasn’t near any mirrors.

Doing his best to not to touch the thing on his back, Donnie wound the scarf around his middle, once, twice then thrice.

Tightening the scarf to make sure it was secure, and ignoring the sudden pain that action gave him, he tied the scarf in a neat knot that could easily go unnoticed.

Quickly putting back on the hoodie, he wandered over to the mirror he had hidden away in the other side of the lab.

(he had read somewhere that being able to see your reflection was not conducive to a good working environment, but he still needed somewhere to do his eyebrows, so, Donnie compromised)

Giving himself a once over, he checked that everything was hidden away. The antennae were well hidden under his mask, the small folds in the fabric could easily be mistaken for just his goggles pulling on his mask oddly.

While he was still getting way too much information from them, it was no longer as overwhelming as it had been, though Donnie hadn’t yet removed the antennae from his mask, and he wasn’t going to any time soon. The first time had been overwhelming, and he was not eager to relive it so soon.

The shell was well covered in his hoodie, which fell all the way down to his knees.

He had tied the scarf a little too tight if the dull throbbing of the shell was anything to go by. But Donnie wasn’t taking any chances. He could deal with a little pain. Donnie had been through worse.

Knowing he had used up all the time his meagre excuse of ‘putting something away’ had bought him, Donnie grit his teeth, unlocked his door and set in the direction of the dining room. His shoulders set like he was heading to war.

-------------

As he peaked into the room, he saw all his family waiting on him, Raph was sitting in his seat, staring intently at the steaming food laid out in front of him.

April was sitting next to him, possibly trying to stop Raph from pre-emptively eating the food. Leo was sitting across from her, texting someone on his phone, a dopy smile on his face. His feet were resting on the table, ew. It really was impossible for him to sit like a normal person.

Mikey must have though so too, as when he entered the dining room, with a plate of something that smelt heavily (was it just him who could smell that?) of spices on his hip, Mikey glared at Leo’s affront to dining room etiquette and swiped his feet of the table.

Leo was shocked out of whatever trance he was in and fought to regain his balance as he tried not to fall off his chair. Casey, who was sitting next to him, attempted to help but ended up getting smacked in the face for his troubles.

Raph looked up from drooling over his food to chuckle at Leo’s misfortune. Donnie took this momentary distraction to silently slip into the room.

However, he must have been louder than he thought he was, because as soon as he stepped into the dining room, everyone’s heads turned to look at him.

He wished he had chosen the first option and stayed in his lab.

“Hey Donald, long time no see,” Leo smirked,

Donnie rolled his eyes, “’Nardo, you saw me just this morning” he griped, tapping his fingers against his palm. His fingers felt like they were covered in honey, pulling just too much on his scales before releasing.

Leo did an odd tilt of his head “…uh no that was yesterday.”

Was it? Seems like Donnie had been a little more blind to the passage of time than he thought.

His lack of knowledge on the current day immediately alarmed Raph, “Donnie! How long have you been working for?” he asked, looking affronted. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

Ah, this was a familiar song and dance, “Of course Raphala, I’ll get right on that” he said (you know, like a lying lair who lies) as he slipped into his seat.

Mikey really must have put a lot of effort into this meal.

Whenever he got a new recipe down he always made a big production of showing off his culinary skills.

He had set out multiple sets of cutlery (most of which they probably didn’t need, Mikey just wanted it to seem fancy and high class). There were also a few candles which Mikey had supposedly lit with his nun-chucks, which was a fire hazard if Donnie had ever seen one. Mikey had also folded napkins into little turtle shapes, which was a little too on the nose (it wasn’t anymore) but they were cute.

Mikey slid a plate in front of Donnie before sitting down in his own seat at the head of the table.

He had claimed it after an ironclad argument that because he was the one cooking most of the food, he had first dibs on the seating.

Raph was a little miffed with this, as he had no hope of claiming the head seat because he was an absolute disaster in the kitchen. Raphael burned cereal.

“Now I know that souffle is a French dessert, but I just couldn’t resist making risotto for the main course, ‘cause it is Italian. But I just learned this new technique and I really wanted to show you guys! Dig in!”

Needing no further permission, Raph all but chocked trying to shove the food into his mouth and compliment Mikey’s cooking at the same time. While Leo, April, Casey and Donnie started to eat at a more civilised pace.

Donnie was glad to see that, set beside the risotto on his plate was a small collection of safe foods, such as little cuts of meat and veg. They were probably meant to be mixed up in the risotto, but were kept separate so that Donnie wouldn’t have to undergo the horror of mixed textures in his food.

Donnie loved his family so much.

(The shell shifted under the scarf)

(The scent of the spices in the food was still boarding on overwhelming)

(He didn’t think he could let go of his fork)

(There was a strange, unnatural taste in his mouth)

Leo had placed his phone face down on the table, a light blush on his cheeks. If Donnie had the energy for it, he would be teasing Leo about his painfully obvious crush.

Luckily, Raph did it for him.

“So Leo, I saw you got the waiter’s number, what’s his name again?” Raph asked, smirking. 

Leo’s face lit up, taking the prompt as permission to ramble about his crush, “His name is Usagi! Did you know he uses katana too? He’s a samurai! He is soo cool, you know, he told me-“

Casey perked up at the mention of Leo’s crush’s name (And darn, now he couldn’t keep calling him ‘the waiter’ or ‘Leo’s crush’) and April covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle laughter at Leo’s rambling.

Donnie’s eyes glazed over as Leo started to go over just how cool this Usagi was, twirling one of his mask tails in his hand like a teenage girl.

Donnie didn’t think he was going to like Usagi.

Mikey, however, had stars in his eyes, “Oooh, you like him, like, like him like him!”

Wow. Donnie didn’t think it was possible for Leo to get more red.

“you should invite him over!” Raph piped in. Mikey gasped and started nodding enthusiastically.

...

What.

Luckily, Leo seemed to agree with Donnie, waving his hands frantically around, his fork tinking in his plate.

“No no no, we just started talking, it would be too weird, I don’t want him to think I’m like desperate or something!”

“You kinda are though” Donnie cut in.

That was good, look at me, I’m conversing like a boss! (Raph wouldn’t mind if he borrowed his catchphrase)

They suspect nothing!

Leo gasped, affronted, “Hey! What about you, Donnie, you snuck out! Let’s stop talking about me and talk about that!”

Leo smirked, eager to get back at Donnie and move the conversation on to something else, conveniently throwing Donnie under the bus.

Ah, I had spoke too soon, he thought as Raph’s head swung in his direction, completely forgetting about inviting Leo’s crush over and latching onto this new topic.

“Donnie! You snuck out?! But! The buddy system!” Raph exclaimed.

Mikey and April’s soft “Oooooh, Donnie’s in trouble~” summed up the situation perfectly.

(The shell shifted again)

Chapter Text

“Yeah Donnie, I can’t believe you snuck out!” Leo chimed in. If looks could kill Leo would have been dead twice over.

“Snitch” Donnie hissed at his now least favourite brother.

“Where did’ya go Donnie?” Raph asked, tilting his head.

“Ugh just the Scrapyard, no big deal”

It was a big deal.

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to come with you?” Raph continued, his eye-ridges furrowed in worry, forming his famous Raph-chasm.

“You were all busy, and I couldn’t just wait, I was in the middle of a very important project!”

He should have waited.

Why couldn’t he just wait?

Raph sighed, leaning back in his chair, before responding, “Did you get what you wanted at least?”

He didn’t even know.

He had been a bit too preoccupied to check just what he had collected after it happened. He remembered placing some miscellaneous stuff into his battle shell, but he had no recollection of what exactly any of that stuff was. Donnie could barely remember what exactly he was there for in the first place.

Instead of whatever that was, he got this. He got his body contorted and changed in ways he had never anticipated. Because he was being stupid. He made a stupid error. Him. Donnie! The smart, rational one.

So, no. Donnie did not get what he wanted.

Burying his icky feelings back into the deep corners of his mind (it was getting a little crowded there), Donnie gathered what mental fortitude he had left:

“Nah, I didn’t.” he murmured, shifting his gaze to his food.

...

That was exhausting.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go again and help you look, yeah?” Mikey suggested, beaming at Donnie.

Donnie thinks he shrugged; he can’t be sure.

His eyes locked on a singular grain of rice.

April snickered, “Yeah, maybe Leo can invite Usagi as well! It would be soo romantic.” “April!” Leo whined, blush returning to his face.

   Just thinking about going back to the scrapyard made Donnie feel sick.

“The scrapyard is like the opposite of romantic, you know that!”

   He didn’t think he could eat any more.

“So you admit you do want to go somewhere romantic with him!”

   He couldn’t let go of the fork.

“NO! I was simply correcting your wrong opinion on scrapyards!”

   He was finding it hard to breath.

“hm, that’s weak. A weak excuse. I don’t believe you at all. Mikey?”

   Was he even trying?

                                 To breath.

“Nope, as someone who is as one would say, an expert when it comes to this, I, Doctor Feelings, diagnose you with simp.”

     The scarf was digging into his plastron. Into the shell.

                                                                     (Not his shell)

“You take that back!”

        He gripped hard onto the fork. It bent under the pressure.

“No Leo, Mikeys right. You are a simp”

         It was fine. He didn’t have to breath.

                He could hold his breath for a long time.

“Betrayal! My own brother!”

     Or did that change too?

“It’s not a betrayal if I was never on your side to begin with!”

               Was he even the same person anymore?

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

                                             He needed to breath.

“I dunno, Raph just saw it somewhere, it sounded funny.”

                                                                    He needed-

“Hey, do you guys hear that?”

The table went silent at Casey’s question. All of them taking a moment to strain their ears to hear what Casey did.

A buzzing.

They turned to their purple-clad brother, who was looking despondently down at his food, his eyes vacant. He must be even more frustrated about not getting the materials he wanted from the scrapyard than they thought.

“Dude, is that your phone?” Leo asked, though he didn’t think it sounded quite right. The buzzing was too continuous, too organic, to be a phone.

It took Donnie a second too long to move his gaze from his plate to the enquiring gaze of his family. The buzzing faltered for a second as Donnie shifted his posture and inhaled sharply.

“What?” he asked, his eyes half lidded and glazy. Leo wondered if his sleepless nights were finally catching up to him.

“You’re buzzin’” Raph supplied, pointing at his shell. Donnie’s eyes snapped open, his whole body jerked as he pushed his chair away from the table, almost toppling it over and falling to the floor. He stood up quickly.

Donnie stood there for a second, everyone’s gazes firmly on him. He swayed a little, like he was fighting to keep his balance, before his thoughts seemed to catch up with him.

“I need to go to-. Need to go.” he stuttered out, before fleeing the room. The buzzing following him. Leo noticed that he still had his fork grasped tightly in his hand before he vanished from view.

“He didn’t even stay for my souffle,” pouted Mikey.

-----------------

“That was weird right?” Leo asked, still looking at the doorway Donnie had disappeared into. “I mean, more than Donnie’s usual brand of weirdness.”

“Yeah, I wonder what that buzzing was, do you think he stuck crickets into his shell?” Mikey asked, turning to Leo.

“No, Donnie wouldn’t do that - that’s your usual brand of weirdness - and I still can’t believe you did that” Leo chuckled.

“My hands were full! Where else was I supposed to put them?” Mikey exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation, Raph nodded sagely next to him. Holding Insects in your shell probably sounded completely sane to him.

“Anyway” Mikey continued, “that didn’t sound like cricket buzzing, it was more like, uh, cicadas”

“Should someone go after him?” April asked.

“Nah, he’ll probably be in his lab working on his battle shell, that’s probably what was making the buzzing.” Leo said.

“But he was wearing a hoodie?” Casey asked, confused.

Leo smirked “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s worn his hoodie over his battle shell. And anyway, that was his plus, plus size hoodie.” Said Leo,

Mikey nodded in agreement, joining in the conversation, “I thought there was something off with his shell," he snapped his fingers, "the shape was off. Maybe he’s making a new battle shell?”

Leo shook his head, “He’s probably just fixing his current battle shell, it looked broken last time I saw, he was acting a little shady about it”.

Raph’s eyes widened in worry, “his battle shell was broken? What happened to it?”

Leo leaned back, “I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”

“Leo!”

Leo threw his head back, “What? He was speaking all sciency anyway! I can’t speak nerd!”

Raph deadpanned at his blue brother, who threw his hands up in an ‘what do you want me to do?’ gesture. Raph rolled his eyes, looking over to April. “Yeah, we should probably leave him alone for a while, especially if his battle shell’s broke, Don always gets really cagey whenever that happens ‘til its fixed.”

“Don’t worry Raph, I’ll make sure he actually goes to bed. He gets a couple hours, but then he’s gonna sleep” said Mikey, cracking his knuckles as if he was planning on knocking Donnie out with a punch. Mikey started giggling evilly, a malicious look on his face.

Raph leaned over and gently pushed Mikey’s head into his shell.

The giggling continued, now echoing ominously.

Leo cleared his throat, now leaning over the table, as if to deliver some very important information.

“Now the only thing left to address is… DIBS!” He hollered, grabbing Donnie’s plate and placing it on top of his own.

“What- LEO!” Raph yelled, reaching over the table to take the food for himself, which Leo was furiously shovelling into his mouth.

While Raph was grabbing at Leo, trying to stop his desperate inhalation of food, one of the candles was pushed over by his elbow, falling, and quickly lighting the table on fire.

Mikey popped his head out of his shell, eyes wide.

“My tablecloth!!!”

Chapter Text

Donnie didn’t really know where he was going. The feeling of the shell pushing against the scarf was maddening, and it shifted uncomfortably as he stumbled and fell against the wall. Grimacing and using the wall as a support he stumbled his way back to his lab.

Closing and locking the door behind him, Donnie sank to the floor, yanking off his hoodie and with shaking hands undid the knot of the scarf wrapped around his torso. He fumbled a few times and couldn’t find it within himself to feel shame when the fabric ripped. When the knot was finally undone, the feeling finally receded as the shell lifted upwards off his back, the buzzing rising to a crescendo. Donnie’s eyes clamped shut.

Wrapping his hands around himself, Donnie exhaled, the sudden loss of that feeling making him feel weightless. Finally able to breath again, he inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled,  and the sensation of being trapped in his own mind slowly receded, and his head cleared.

After opening his eyes, Donnie was almost immediately hurtled back into his panic when he saw that his legs were a good few feet off of the floor. Donnie became even more aware of the buzzing coming from behind him. As soon as he did however, the buzzing stopped, and Donnie fell to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

He felt the shell lower a little, the wings (oh god why were there wings) vibrating every few seconds, as if in tandem with his thoughts (of course it would, it was a part of him).

Donnie stood up. He was off balance.

Stubbornly looking forward, Donnie made his way to his desk. He stopped. Staring at his chair.

It was a very nice chair, he had made it after all. The material felt nice on his scales, it was on wheels, and it was purple. And it had a perfectly shaped backrest.

In a sudden burst of anger, he let out a small shout and ripped the backrest of the chair, throwing it away to the side.

(That wasn’t the only thing he wanted to rip off)

Sitting down on what remained of his chair, Donnie let out a breath, and held his head in his hands, laying his elbows on his desk. Mentally preparing himself to return to working on his retro-mutagen, Donnie inhaled deeply.

However, as he took his hands away from his head, Donnie found that his fingers had stuck onto his mask and it was pulled away. Immediately his senses were overwhelmed by the now exposed antennae.

“AAAH-!!”

He yelled, shoving his mask back on and shoving his hand into his mouth, cutting his shout short. With tears in his eyes Donnie froze, waiting for a few painstaking minutes, anticipating one of his brothers to start banging on the door. He didn’t bother to move from his position hunched over his desk. After nothing happened, Donnie relaxed.

This was exhausting.

It seemed like the past 24 hours had been full of nothing but panic, and he had already been running low on sleep beforehand. But he couldn’t rest until he found how to reverse this. He thought back to his previous attempts at a cure. They had all been based purely in science, if you had asked him a few years ago, Donnie would have scoffed and replied that everything is based in science, however that wasn’t true was it?

Unfortunately, magic was apparently a thing, and was most definitely involved in the process of mutagen. Donnie grumbled, he wasn’t an expert in any way when it came to mysticism, sure, theoretical physics were a cinch, but magic? Absolutely not. If he wanted to figure out the retro-mutagen he would have to go to Draxum.

But he had to go on. He had exhausted all of his available options, plans a to z all failed at producing a working retro-mutagen. He was desperate enough to go to Draxum now.

How to do this, however, was the question. He couldn’t tell Draxum, as A: he would immediately inform Mikey of Donnie’s little situation and B: the thought of being any kind of emotionally vulnerable with the Yokai made Donnie break out in hives. So, he would have to avoid the topic of his own personal investment in the subject, Donnie thought at he reached for his phone, scrolling through his contacts before coming to the contact deftly labelled ‘Draxum’. Donnie only gave fun nicknames to people he liked. The name looked out of place between ‘Dimensional Threat (?)’ and ‘Worse Half’.

Draxum picked up on the 6^th ring.

“Hello? Who is this?” ugh, of course Draxum hadn’t saved his number.

“It’s Donatello,”

“… who?”

Donnie didn’t know enough about Draxum to know whether or not he was being serious.

“Donatello, the son of Lou Jitsu”.

“… and which turtle would this be?”

Donnie sighed.

“The purple one.”

“Ah, yes, the softshell”

(wrong)

“I was under the impression that you hated me, why are you calling me now?” Draxum drawled.

Donnie rolled his eyes, even though Draxum could not see him do so.

“You would be correct in your assumption. Unfortunately, I have come across a problem and though it physically pains me to say it, it seems the solution requires mystic assistance.”

“And what specifically do you need my assistance for, turtle?”

“I am attempting to produce a retro-mutagen; however, I am having difficulty creating a formula that can differentiate between different mutations”.

Hm, perhaps it was a mistake to tell a reformed villain about how you were trying to produce a remedy to his life’s work. No matter how much Mikey claimed he had been ‘Redemption arced’. Oh well, no going back now.

“…”

Donnie hoped this wasn’t going to blow up in his face.

“Aside from the fact that two sources of mutagen would never need to be differentiated from each other in the first place, do you really think you created a successful retro-mutagen?”

Donnie didn’t like the condescending tone Draxum was speaking with.

“Yes, I was able to return a sample of my cells back to their non-mutated state”

Draxum let out an amused chuckle down the phone, causing Donnie’s eye to twitch. Draxum obviously knew something that he wasn’t telling him.

“What? What do you find so funny?”

“It’s just amusing that you would think that I hadn’t prepared for scientists attempting to ‘cure’ my mutagen.”

Donnie gulped; this did not sound good.

“Could you expand on that?”

“Gladly. you see, my mutagen doesn’t merely affect the physical body. It changes the very soul of the subject. Now, if you had at least a base knowledge of the mystic, you would know that the soul has a memory of what it is supposed to look like. My mutagen tricks the soul into thinking its true form is something new entirely, an infinitely more advanced mutated state. So even if you did synthesise a ‘retro-mutagen’ as you called it, it would not be able to return the body to its original state for long, as the soul would cause the body to shift back into its mutated state, which it perceives as its normal form.”

Donnie had stopped breathing.

“Tell me, how long has it been since you checked your samples?”

Having heard enough, Donnie hung up. Quickly sprinting towards where he had stored the cell samples, tearing open the container, with shaking hands he processed the cells, obtaining the pure DNA and placing it into his homemade DNA sequencer.

Donnie stood in front of the machine, wishing he had improved its efficiency so he wouldn’t have to endure this soul-crushing weight.

After what seemed like hours the machine ‘dinged’ with a happy jingle which grated on Donnie’s tympanum. Quickly moving the data collected by the machine to his desktop, he run the DNA sequence through his algorithms, biting his fingers as he once again waited for the results.

The algorism finished running through the data. Presenting it’s finding on his monitor screen.

A 100% match.

To his new, mutated DNA.

Chapter Text

Donnie finally came back to himself an undeterminable time later. He really had to get a handle on himself. He couldn’t just fall apart at the slightest hint of something not going his way.

Although maybe he could give himself a pass, just this once. After all he had just found that it was almost certain that he was stuck in this new form.

Talking about his new form. If he truly was stuck like this, then he needed to get a handle on the whole buzzing situation. He had been lucky during dinner. Though his memories were blurry on what had specifically occurred, he remembered Leo asking if it had been his phone, hopefully they would believe that and move on. Though it was unlikely they would guess anything close to his current situation, it was just too outlandish, even for Mikey’s creative mind.

The mutation had clearly changed a lot about his biology. Donnie knew how it worked. And he knew that he could control the seemingly random shifting of the shell. As for the shell to be able to move at all there should be neurones connecting the new muscles on the shell to his spinal cord and to his brain. The mutation must have made new neural connections in his brain. Ones that he had not forged himself.

Donnie would have to explore these, learn what made the shell do that, and what made the shell do this. So he could learn how to not do anything with the shell, and prevent the incident at dinner from ever happening again. You’ve got to know your enemy after all.

However, there was a little problem with this. The neural connections that the mutation had so callously forged were most likely connected to his emotions in some way, but given just how much of everything he had been feeling these past few hours (days?), Donnie couldn’t be sure. But if they were connected to his emotions, this whole ‘control the shell’ plan wasn’t going to go so well, as Donnie already had difficulty expressing his own emotions.

He looked to his clock. It was nearing ten o’clock. He felt way too tired for that to be the true time, but he hadn’t slept properly for almost a week, and was running on fumes. But he had to go on, if he stopped now, he would surely collapse.

Donnie made his way over to his mirror, propping it up so he could get a look at his whole body and-

Wow

He really did look terrible.

His mask was slightly askew from when he had frantically shoved it back onto his head after accidentally exposing the antennae. The crumpled mask allowed his eyebags to be seen in all their glory and -wow- (that’s two wows now) their purple hue could rival that of his mask. His eyes were also blood shot and glassy, but he guessed that’s where many sleepless nights will get you.

Slowly, he brought his hand up to touch the indentation of the antennae in his mask. He could feel the foreign sensation of his finger touching something that wasn’t part of his biology. He shivered, and sharply brought his hand away. He would deal with that later, the antennae were easy enough to hide. His main concern was the shell.

He turned his body around slightly, getting his second good look at the shell. (The first didn’t count for much, he wasn’t in his right mind then) the first thing he noticed was that it was no longer the dull greens and brown of his true shell, but it was now an iridescent purple. It shimmered in the light, reflecting soft pinks and blues into his eyes.

The spots on his shell were gone now, the leathery texture replaced by ridged chitin. Donnie felt his hands shake as what little he managed to eat at dinner threatened to make a reappearance. But Donnie stubbornly didn’t look away, he had been avoiding this for too long already. He set his mind, shoving those icky feelings down, and reached a hand back to delicately place a finger on the shell.

No more was there the slight give of his softshell, instead he was greeted by a sickeningly smooth texture that he could feel through the shell.

It made sense, Donnie placated with himself, the pressure from his touch was being detected by the sensory neurones, which were sending impulses down their axon and to his brain. It made sense for Donnie to be able to feel his finger on the shell. Even though it made his scales crawl with discomfort. It just wasn’t right.

Keeping the finger on the shell (maybe he could get used to it so it would stop making him want to throw up) he moved his eyes to the split, separating the shell perfectly in half. It almost made him gag, seeing the split that reminded him too much of the cracking of Leo’s shell after the invasion, it had taken so long to heal.

As if responding to the searching of his eyes (It made sense, it was attached to his brain, it made sense) the shell shifted, and the split widened.

Donnie was now looking at several pairs of delicate insectoid wings. They glistened in the light, almost glowing a soft purple, the exact shade of his ninpo. The delicate swirling patterns produced fractals of light that danced across the surface of the shell, lighting up like a brilliant Arora. They were, from an impartial standpoint, beautiful.

But they were also attached to his back.

He took a deep breath, distanced his mind, and started to catalogue the new muscles that stretched below the shell. He tried to tense one of them, and oh, that closed the left side of the shell. The right side had also partially closed as well. Donnie likened it to the tendons in normal, human fingers, about how trying to move the ring finger on its own resulted in the neighbouring fingers being dragged along as well.

Donnie relaxed the muscle, but no, the shell did not move back outwards like he had expected. He thought back to the feeling of when the shell had opened a minute ago and tried to replicate it. The shell moved upward. The muscles must be an antagonistic pair, one to open the shell and one to close it. Cataloguing the position and the experience of the two muscles, he found the same muscles for the other side of the shell. As Donnie tensed the first pair of muscles, and looked on as the the shell closed.

He tensed the second pair at the same time as he relaxed the first, and the shell opened.

Then he tensed the first pair and relaxed the second, and the shell closed.

He repeated this a few times. Watching, transfixed, as the shell lifted and lowered, opened and closed.

Subconsciously, Donnie incorporated more of the muscles on his back into the mix, slowly gaining more flexibility in how he moved the shell.

Donnie laughed, eyes alight in a tired mirth, delighted to finally have regained some control over his situation for the first time since the oozesquito bite. He moved the outer shell -the elytra- up and out, up and in, down and out, and completely shut. He moved them in a figure eight and closed the elytra so tightly it felt almost airtight.

Next, after he felt like he had complete control over the outer shell, he moved onto the wings that they encased. There were three pairs, with the third being extremely small compared to the other two. It was strange, based off of real beetles, there should only be two pair of wings, but then again, pigs couldn’t normally absorb mutant abilities and use them as their own (Or could they? An experiment for another day perhaps), so this seemed to be another case of the mutagen working off of its own rules.

He had been flying earlier.

This was a fact that he still struggled to comprehend. Sure, Donnie had flown before, but that was with his battle shell. Though he had only been airborne for a short moment, it was clear that the experience was very different to his normal experience of flying. Donnie could easily say that he had more confidence in his tech than these foreign wings that had forced themselves into his biology.

Donnie wasn’t aiming to gain the ability of fight currently, however. He just wanted to know how the buzzing worked, so he could stop it. Nothing more.

Donnie again began the process of experimenting with the muscles that lay deeper inside of his back, these he knew were connected to the wings. It did not go as well as he hoped it did. While he did find out how to flair the wings outwards -and wow wasn’t that a sight- and move them independently of each other, he had yet to find how to vibrate them at correct speed to recreate the buzzing sound, or even move them in such a way that lifted him even an inch off the floor.

Growling to himself, Donnie thought back to the last time the wings had buzzed, during dinner. Perhaps if he replicated his feeling during the incident -and nope- he thought, as he remembered just what had been going through his head at the time. It was not worth it, if he purposefully dug up all those icky feelings right now, he may just drown in them.

Donnie instead turned to a more reliable source of information, nature documentaries, (a guilty pleasure of his) he remembered one about the flight of the bee -which while it was not a beetle, it was still an insect and should still hold the basic principles of insectoid flight- it stated that the flight of bees was possible because of their miniscule size they were able to literally swim through the air.

Donnie, being quite a bit bigger than a bee, probably wouldn’t be able to replicate this. But, as stated before, the mutagen acts in strange ways, so he attempted the figure-eight like swimming motion anyway. The motion seemed to be familiar to the muscles, like some kind of muscle memory, and the motion of the wings quickly picked up speed.

The buzzing sound was struck into existence and started rising in volume and pitch in tandem with the movement of the wings.

Donnie felt weightlessness once again come over him as his feet slowly lifted from the floor.

He could feel the buzzing reverberate throughout his entire body.

He was flying!

“Donnie? Come on, what did we say about locking the door to your lab! Open up!”

Raph.

Donnie quickly fell to the floor, stumbling over his feet to pick up his hoodie discarded on the floor and donning it, tugging it down until it rested over his knees. Using his new control over the shell he kept it closed, though he could still feel the wings twitch, like they were itching to be used again.

(They were attached to his brain)

Donnie crept over to his door, unlocking it and allowing the entry of two of his brothers, Raph, and Mikey who was resting on his shoulders.

“Shelloo! This is your obligatory well-being check!” Mikey crowed, leaning down over Donnie with a gleam in his eyes. “You have been found guilty of neglecting your sleep” Raph nodded along, jostling Mikey who was now practically hanging off his head, “Your sentence is to be contained in your bed for a period of at least ten hours!”

“Yeah, Donnie, you’ve been cooped up in here for far too long, have your finished fixing yer battle shell yet?”

Donnie blinked, how did they come to that conclusion? It must have been something to do with the incident at dinner that had caused them to do so.

No matter, it worked for him. However, the question did raise another concern of his, when and how was he going to refit the battle shell. Should he make a new one entirely? One that could work with the shell instead of merely hiding it from his family. And speaking of, why was he even bothering to hide it anyways? Now that Donnie had (somewhat) accepted that he was stuck in this form for an undeterminable time, wouldn’t it be best for him to tell his brothers?

There wasn’t much point hiding it anymore.

Sure, Donnie would have to come clean about the stupidity that led to these circumstances, however, the blow to his pride would be worth the support. And Donnie had enough self-awareness to know that he needed support right now.

“Donnie?”

Ah, right, Raph had asked a question.

“No, not yet.”

He hadn’t even looked at his battle shell since dinner.

“Aw that’s too bad, maybe you can finish it later, after you SLEEP!” Mikey exclaimed, “I’ve been too lenient with you! Your eyebags could carry Raph!”

Donnie chuckled; he was aware of just how terrible he looked. Looking up at his brothers, Donnie was overcome by an urge to spill of his inner demons that had plagued him since his trip to the scrap yard, to tell them about what he had been trying to process.

He would tell them.

Except, one was missing.

“Where’s Leo?” Donnie asked, looking around for his blue-clad brother.

Leo would usually join these interventions, consistently making the point about how it wasn’t fair how Donnie was simply not choosing to sleep, while he himself suffered with his insomnia.

Raph and Mikey blinked at the sudden change of topic.

Sue him, Donnie was too tired to be a master conversationalist at the moment.

“Uh, I think he said something about going to bed early, which is what YOU should be doing young man!” Raph said, poking Donnie in the plastron.

Donnie groaned, which turned into a yawn halfway through. He guessed he could tell his brothers tomorrow. Now that he felt like he had some degree of control over his situation, his mind was much clearer. And now that he had made the decision to come clean to his brothers, he felt like he could finally relax.

Donnie grabbed Raph’s hand where it was still lightly poking his plastron through his hoodie. He gave it a gentle squeeze before gently shoving it away, “Sure, sure, my dear brother. I shall retire to my designated sleeping furniture.”

Raph groaned, “Just call it a bed, please”, now confident that his brother was actually going to try an sleep, Raph turned away, starting to walk towards their respective bedrooms with Mikey still handing off his shoulders, now looking half asleep. Donnie followed slightly behind him.

It was a good idea to wait until tomorrow to come clean, the blur of sleep would be removed from his mind, and he would be able to properly dictate his experiences to his family. And anyway, maybe he didn’t have to go into full detail about how exactly the oozesquito stung him and he could preserve his pride.

Donnie smiled, consciously shifting the shell on his back to prove to himself that he did in fact have some semblance of control over this situation.

He finally had a plan!

Perhaps the discovery that he wouldn’t be able to fix this anytime soon had been a blessing is disguise, forcing him to stop obsessing over reversing the mutation and consider other options. Sure, there were still things he needed to address, such as how the antennae continued to overwhelm him with information, controlling the tactile spines on his hands and feet and synthesising an anti-venom. But Donnie was confident that he was going to be able to overcome those challenges easily with the help of his family.

It wasn’t like they were particularly urgent anyway.

Donnie and two of his three brothers came across his bedroom, Donnie gave a quick goodnight to both of them, lightly patting Raph’s bicep and Mikey’s head. He no longer fretted over the chance of the tactile spines attaching to his brother’s scales, as everything would be explained tomorrow.

Donnie wondered into his room, turning his shell on his brothers, and closed the door.

Donnie lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and immediately passed out.

Chapter Text

Other than Donnie hurriedly leaving the table to go work on his battle shell, dinner had been a massive success!

All of the risotto had been eaten. Mikey felt a little bad about not being able to save any of Donnie’s meal before Leo had inhaled it, but the spark of joy that flitted through his heart at his brothers being so desperate to get a taste of his cooking quickly quelled it. And anyway, Donnie knew the risks of leaving food on the table in plain sight of his brothers, who’s stomachs were likened to a bottomless pit.

The fire that had been set when Raph was trying to pry Donnie’s food from Leo had quickly been killed, the only evidence was a dark scorch mark left on his best tablecloth. But when he flipped it over it was barely noticeable.

However, doing so had revealed another scorch mark from another, completely unrelated incident.

Perhaps he should stop placing lit candles on the table. Setting the mood just wasn’t worth it.

But no matter! Mikey had also managed to hide one of his souffles for Donnie, so that his brother could marvel at his hard-earned cooking skills once he had slept. Maybe he could tell Donnie all about the science behind the cooking he had learned. Mikey had many fond memories of him and Donnie talking about cooking sciences, the overlap in their two interests allowing the two turtles to talk for hours on the subject, enjoying the others company. Unfortunately, that’s as far as Donnie’s interest in cooking would go. While Donnie had a good grasp on the theoretical side of cooking, in practice he was absolutely abysmal.

‘No Donnie you need to do macaronage by hand, I don’t care just how efficient your hydraulic whisk is!’

It was something he couldn’t do with Leo or Raph, who were more interested in the outcome of the cooking rather than the ‘how’ of making it.

After all the souffle was eaten (with the exception of Donnie’s), Mikey and Raph cleaned the kitchen.

Leo had refused to contribute, as he was draped dramatically over his chair, claiming he was too busy digesting Mikey’s amazing meal to possibly help. Mikey allowed Leo to remain in his seat. (Never let it be said that he couldn’t be swayed by flattery).

Leo had always helped him clear up, so Mikey would allow him to be lazy just this once.

Mikey and Raph played video games while Leo remained in his chair at the dining table, tapping away at his phone, probably texting his new beau, although he didn’t have that dopey grin on his face this time. Raph’s and his attempts to goad their brother into joining their video games gained no results, they even called him a coward and still nothing! Until Mikey played his trump card; his last resort, his most practiced ability, a power of his more effective than even his mystic abilities:

His Youngest Brother Innocence.

“Are you texting Usagi? Is that why you don’t want to play with us? Do you like him more than us?”, His eyes wobbling on command.

While it wasn’t his best example of manipulation, when he paired with his devastating ‘puppy dog eyes’, that wobbled and shone dangerously it did the job. Causing his brother to splutter in denial and stand up from his chair.

Leo stumbled a little, no doubt because of how he had been sitting in one position for what felt like hours and grabbed a controller. He sat down in front of the tv, leaning heavily on the leg of the chair behind him. He took forever to pick a character, dragging out his choice just to mess with Mikey and Raph, who growled with impatience. Mikey vowed to get his revenge for this minute affront, this will not stand! He smiled devilishly as he prepared the next round, now with three players.

Mikey was on fire!

While beating Raph wasn’t much of a surprise, as this specific game required a lot of precise movements and Raph’s fingers were just too big for that, it was a surprise how Mikey absolutely smoked Leo!

Leo’s humiliating defeat had obviously sent him into a mood (not at all helped along by Mikeys bragging at his victory), as not long after Mikey’s winning steak hit a dozen rounds, he left to go to his room. With the excuse that he was feeling too tired to play and was going to go try and catch some zs.

Mikey rolled his eyes but let it pass, it was an obvious lie. It wasn’t only Raph who had picked up on how Leo always said ‘indubitably’ when he was fibbing.

And Leo never ‘tried to catch some zs’, they always caught him after long bouts of his insomnia not letting him sleep.

And Leo had just slept a solid eight hours the night before, he had been bragging about it during breakfast.

Mikey and Raph shared a look, shrugged, and went on playing their game. Switching to one that was more Raph friendly. Honestly, if Leo didn’t want to play, he could just say so.

He didn’t have to lie.

This new game was a bit more a challenge for Mikey, and he and Raph were tied, locked in a furious battle until Raph finally came out on top. Mikey mourned his loss, flopping over Raph’s shoulders, careful to avoid his spikes as Raph did a little dance at his victory.

Mikey noticed just how tired his eyes fell, after staring at a screen for hours. He yawned.

“You tired little man?”

Mikey gasped, tugging on his brother’s mask tails. “I’m not little, your just unnaturally big” he grumbled, but made no move to deny Raph’s claim. Mikey shuffled, getting more comfortable in the space between Raph’s shell and his shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go make sure Donnie’s sleepin’, then you’ll go to bed.” Raph said, carefully getting up so that he didn’t knock Mikey off his shoulders and started making his way up to Donnie’s lab.

Mikey was lulled further into drowsiness with the gentle sway of Raph’s steps, but he shook himself back into awareness as Raph tried to open Donnie’s lab’s door. He could feel his brother’s frown as he realised the door was locked. Raphael knocked on the door,

“Donnie? Come on, what did we say about locking the door to your lab! Open up!” A few seconds later, the door unlocked, and Donnie appeared in the doorway, slouching. That could not be good for his back.

“Shelloo! This is your obligatory well-being check!” Mikey said, taking in Donnie’s dishevelled appearance. He always hated it when his smartest brother did this, locking himself in his lab, working obsessively and not looking after himself.

“You have been found guilty of neglecting your sleep” Mikey leaned forward, adjusting his grip on Raph’s head as he nodded along to Mikey’s words. “Your sentence is to be contained in your bed for a period of at least ten hours!”

Raph folded his arms, leaning backwards, allowing Mikey to settle back into the fold of his shell and shoulders.

“Yeah, Donnie, you’ve been cooped up in here for far too long, have your finished fixing yer battle shell yet?”

Mikey saw Donnie’s eyes glaze over in as he went deep in thought, a series of complicated emotions passed over his face, and Raph had to clear his throat and call Donnie's name again to gain his attention.

“No, not yet.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes at his purple-clad brother. He wasn’t lying, but there was definitely something he wasn’t saying. But there were more important matters than Donnie’s half-truths, and that was his health.

“Aw that’s too bad, maybe you can finish it later, after you SLEEP!” Mikey exclaimed, “I’ve been too lenient with you! Your eyebags could carry Raph!” It was true, due to the dishevelled look of his mask, his eyebags were in full display, and wow. Mikey should have intervened sooner, he shouldn’t have let him continue working after dinner, he should had forced into bed then and there, no matter how broken his battle shell was.

Donnie chuckled at his joke, and Mikey smiled. He loved making his brothers laugh. An odd look crossed Donnie’s face as he looked around Mikey and Raph.

“Where’s Leo?”

Mikey was caught of guard by the sudden topic change, though he conceded that it was a little weird that Leo wasn’t there with them, he would have thought that Leo would have wondered out of his bedroom to bug them by now. That he would have gotten over Mikey absolutely kicking his shell at their game. Maybe he actually managed to get some sleep for the second night in a row, good for him! Mikey thought as Raph answered Donnie’s question.

“Uh, I think he said something about going to bed early, which is what YOU should be doing young man!” Raph said, poking Donnie’s hoodie covered plastron.

Mikey braced himself for Donnie’s rebuttal, his inevitable ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ response that usually summoned Dr Delicate Touch, but was pleasantly surprised when Donnie agreed to go to bed. Maybe Dr feeling’s lectures were finally sinking in!

Mikey was so proud of his brother.

Now with the knowledge that Donnie would in fact be sleeping, Mikey let himself doze off on Raph’s shoulders as he started walking towards their bedrooms, comforted by the footsteps of his purple-clad brother following behind them.

(Were Donnie’s footsteps a little out of pace? They sounded different)

Mikey was half unconscious when Raph stopped, only partially aware to the goings on of the world. He felt Donnie pat his head goodnight, then he felt Raph gently remove him from his shell and carefully place him in his hammock, tucking him in and whispering goodnight.

Mikey fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Mikey woke up, the remains of a dream still echoing in his mind. He couldn’t tell what it had been about specifically, but he knew he was glad to be awake. He could still feel the faint crack crack cracking of his arms. The golden light still permeating the underside of his eyelids.

Speaking of being conscious, there seemed to be a reason for his awakening. The feeling that he was not awake of his volition but because of some external force. Mikey was well acquainted with this feeling.

You see, Mikey’s room was directly next to the bathroom. It had always bothered him because it meant he was often awoken by Leo taking showers at absurd times at night, or Donnie’s loud music as he did his eyebrows, or Raph loudly tumbling over something left on the floor whenever nature came-a-calling at night.

But what he was hearing was not the sound of water falling in the shower, nor was it the heavy beat of Daft Punk, nor the badly stifled swears of someone who stubbed their foot.

It was the sound of someone retching.

His eyes widened as his tired brain finally made the connection; that the sound of someone throwing up actually meant that someone was currently sick.

Someone was throwing up in the bathroom.

Chapter Text

Someone was throwing up in the bathroom.

---

(art)

----

Throwing his blanket off of him, Mikey clambered out of his hammock, getting twisted and falling onto his face. He hadn’t done that for a while.

Mikey ran out of his room to the bathroom, trying the bathroom door handle and thankfully finding it unlocked. He threw open the door, quickly scanning the bathroom to find Leo hunched over the toilet bowl, hugging it as he continued to heave. His mask was lying on the floor, probably hastily taken off so that the tails did not get in the way of the evacuation of his stomach.

“Leo!”

He made no acknowledgement of Mikey’s loud entrance, but jumped when Mikey placed his hand on his shell.

Mikey frowned when he felt that Leo was shaking under his touch.

He moved his other hand to Leo’s forehead, rubbing his shell with his other hand, and felt his temperature. He didn’t feel hot to the touch, at least not in the way that would indicate a fever, but Mikey couldn’t be sure.

The turtle that knew about this stuff was currently trying to hack up his stomach beneath him.

Mikey wanted to call for Raph or Donnie, but Raph usually slept like a rock and Donnie had sound-proofed his room, and Mikey didn’t want to leave Leo like this to go and physically get them. Mikey was panicking, looking around the bathroom as if some miraculous solution would jump out at him. He cursed himself for leaving his phone in his room.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Leo’s retching slowed and came to a halt, though he remained shaking over the toilet. His knuckles were white with how tightly he was holding on.

“Leo, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

He almost kicked himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, of course he was sick! Stupid! Stupid!

Leo let out a long exhale, not turning away from the bowl as he stuttered out, “Mikey?”, his eyes were glassy.

Mikey flushed the toilet, hoping to get rid of the putrid smell starting to permeate the bathroom, and handed Leo some paper towels. With shaking hands, Leo pried one of his hands away from the toilet, buckling as he adjusted to supporting his weight with just one hand. He took the offered paper towel and wiped his mouth.

“Yeah, Leo, what can I do? What caused this?” Mikey fretted, rubbing Leo’s shell. He attempted to make eye contact with Leo, but it was no use, his brother’s eyes were half lidded and his breaths were coming in short static bursts.

Leo opened his mouth, looking as if he was preparing to speak, before his eyes widened suddenly and he turned back to the toilet, continuing to dry heave. The used paper towels fell to the floor. Leo looked like he was in pain.

Mikey looked away, uncomfortable with the sight of one of big brothers so clearly suffering. Leo wouldn’t want Mikey to see him like this. So Mikey uncomfortably looked around the bathroom, anywhere else but his trembling brother.

His eyes locked on to the discarded paper towels.

And Mikey saw the blood.

Little crimson flecks were soaked into the material, filling Mikey with horror.

Many thoughts went through the orange-clad turtle at once, as the panic crashed into him like a tsunami, but the most prominent trains of thought were:

Did he eat something bad? Is this food poisoning?

And then,

OHMIGOSH MY RISOTTO POISONED LEO

Mikey was overwhelmed by the terror and shame that swirled around his mind but was sharply brought back as Leo collapsed, his arms giving out, almost falling into the bowl before Mikey managed to catch him.

His eyes were scrunched up in pain, the red of his stripes contrasting his faint pallor. Mikey held Leo to his chest, keeping him turned towards the toilet just in case Leo started heaving again. Mikey doubted it though, he didn’t think there was anything left in Leo’s stomach to throw up.

“Leo?”

He didn’t respond.

His breathing was faint.

“RAPH, DONNIE, SOMEONE HELP!!!”

When there was no immediate response, Mikey gathered Leo into his arms, no longer caring if he got sick on him, and sprinted to Raph’s room.

(Mikey had thrown a skyscraper before, so why was Leo so heavy)

“RAPH RAPH RAPH!!!” he screamed, tearing open Raph’s door and jolting his brother awake.

“Mikey… whazzit? Wazzgoinon?” he slurred, blinking the sleep from his eyes. As he turned to Mikey, who was crying, holding Leo in his arms, who looked dead part from the shaky breaths that were too shallow, his eyes widened and he immediately jumped out of his bed. “Jumpin’ Jack Flash! What’s wrong with Leo?” he exclaimed. Raph waved his arms around the unconscious body of his little brother. He didn’t know what to do.

“I dunno! I woke up and he was just, just throwing up! And it didn’t stop! And he passed out! What do we do?” Mikey wailed. Raph took Leo from him. Cradling him in his arms. He was barely breathing.

Leo was usually the one to go to for issues like this, he was the one with all of the medical knowledge. But Leo was unavailable, passed out in Raph’s arms. It reminded Raph too much of the aftermath of the invasion. Leo had been out for the count then too, and his healing had been in the hands of Donnie.

Donnie

They had to get Donnie. With Leo dead to the world (not dead, not dead), he was the next best person to go to in situations like this.

Donnie would know what to do.

“Mikey, go get Donnie. I’ll take Leo to sickbay”.

Grateful to finally be given something useful to do, Mikey turned to the door, hesitating for a second as his eyes lingered on Leo’s pale form clutched in Raph’s arms, before running towards Donnie’s room. He felt like he was running away.

He threw open Donnie’s door, almost tearing it off of its hinges. He really should get a handle on his strength. Mikey found Donnie passed out on his bed. He was lying on his plastron, his head tilted as he drooled onto his pillow. Donnie was sleeping on top of his covers, which were still laid out perfectly beneath him. He still had on his mask and hoodie, though his goggles seemed to have fallen off of his head in his sleep, now lying next to his pillow in danger of falling the bed entirely. Even in sleep he looked exhausted, his drawn-on brows furrowing. Mikey didn’t give himself time to feel bad as he took hold of Donnie’s shoulders and shook him.

Donnie woke in a panic, instinctually snapping forward to try and bite his aggressor.

SNAP!

Donnie’s jaws closed on where Mikey’s forearm had been mere seconds ago. Mikey had instinctively moved his arm away. He had a lot of experience waking up a sleepy Donnie.

“Donnie! Dee! You gotta help! I think I poisoned Leo!” Mikey wailed. Donnie blinked awareness into his eyes as his brain slowly kicked into action. “I knew risotto was a bad idea! I mustn’t have cooked the salmon properly, oh gosh, what if he has SALMONELLA!” Mikey muttered to himself, almost delirious as he attempted to physically drag Donnie from his bed.

Donnie finally comprehended Mikey’s words.

“What? What’s wrong with Leo?” he asked, but Mikey wasn’t speaking clearly, now going on about how he had cooked the eggs in the souffle, his sobs muffling his words and making them incoherent. Instead of answering Donnie, Mikey simply grabbed his arm, uncaring if Donnie bit him in his state of confusion. Leo’s situation was more important.

Mikey then started to pull his brother out of his room and towards the sickbay. Finally giving Donatello a jumbled explanation, “I woke up and I heard someone in the bathroom and they were sick and it was Leo and it was so terrible he was shaking and he just wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t get anyone cause what if I left and he died and and I was so scared and he passed out and he’d probably been poisoned my food poisoned Leo please please Donnie you have to fix this!”

Donnie, mind sluggish from being woken up and still suffering from sleep deprivation, attempted to make sense of the word vomit that had fallen out of his youngest brother’s mouth.

He quickly clamped down on the buzzing and nervous shifting of his shell, he obviously couldn’t drop this bombshell on Mikey now, not when he was so distraught. There were more important things to do, whatever got Mikey into such a state was obviously much more vital.

Donnie started to run with Mikey, instead of being dragged by him, keeping pace as they both ran through the halls of their home.

Donnie still didn’t really know what was going on, but he had a vague idea, and it wasn’t good.

They rarely ever got sick other than the rat flu, which was a yearly occurrence. Donnie assumed they’re resistance to disease was because of multiple factors. How Draxum would have created them specifically with a strong immune system. How they were probably immune to just about everything naturally because of living in the sewers. And also maybe because human diseases just didn’t affect them, after all there would be very few pathogens that would have had the opportunity to adapt to be able to infect mutants.

They even easily brushed off the effects of mystic poison.

He couldn’t remember the last time his brothers had come down with something that wasn’t rat flu.

In conclusion, this situation was highly unusual.

It was especially weird, Donnie thought as he looked down on his twin who was passed out on the sickbay bed, that Leo was the one to get sick. Of all of his brothers, he would have presumed it would be Raph, due to his nasty habit of eating anything and everything.

Standing frozen in the doorway, Donnie was thrust into a sense of déjà vu, he almost stumbled as he vividly remembered the immediate consequences of the Kraang invasion. Leo had been laid up on the sickbay bed much like he was now, though his injuries were much more apparent then. There had been a lot of blood.

But now, the only indication that Leo was suffering was the pale colour of his face and his shallow breathing.

Recovering from his shock, Donnie hurried over to Leo’s side, placing the back of his hand to his forehead. It wasn’t warm like he would expect from a fever, that meant it was something else.

“Did he eat something other than your food Mikey?” he asked, not turning away from his bed-ridden brother.

“No, I-I don’t think so. So it had to have been my food, right? It’s all my fault!” Mikey responded, while he had stopped actively crying, his lips were wobbling dangerously.

Donnie shook his head, “If it had been your food, we would all be in Leo’s position now, not just him. It’s not your fault.” He assured, continuing to treat Leo, taking his blood pressure and heart rate.

“So what is it? Can you find out?” Raph asked, hovering at Leo’s side, seeming unsure of where to put himself. Donnie rolled his eyes, placing an oxygen mask over Leo’s face.

“Scoff, you doubt me Raph? Of course I can.”

Donnie pulled out his toxicology screening kit, he had made it when Leo got really into learning first aid. With only a small blood sample, it could detect slight deviations in the chemical consistencies in someone’s blood. Donnie had designed it to detect natural poisons, mostly in case of Raph eating toxic plants (you can’t just eat random berries!) or Mikey trying to befriend any and all venomous creatures that didn’t want to be his friend in return. As time went on, Donnie added more and more poisons and even pathogens to the toxicology screen. Sometimes after reading a particularly harrowing article, or simply for want of being more prepared as they started going out on more risky missions and getting on the bad side of some less than savoury characters. Now, after years of constant improvement, the scan could pick up almost anything.

Pricking Leo’s finger, he placed his blood into the machine, waiting with bated breath for the results.

Cantharidin.

A highly mutated version, but cantharidin none the less. It confused Donnie’s still slightly sleep addled brain, that toxin was only found in minute concentrations in specific beetles and-

Oh

Oh

It was him.

This was his fault.

Chapter Text

This was his fault.

-

(art)

Raph didn’t like the look on Donnie’s face.

He had used one of his machines, the one for poisons (Raph was familiar) and after a wait that had Raph’s skin crawling, the machine dinged with its results. Information that he didn’t have a hope of understanding lighting up the screen.

Raph watched impatiently as Donnie’s eyes scanned the screen, waiting for Donnie’s ‘Ah HA!’ moment and tell them what was wrong and how to fix it. But a chill passed over his spines as Donnie froze, the scanner going slack in his hands.

Raph didn’t like the look on Donnie’s face.

It wasn’t his ‘I don’t know what this is and I’m frustrated about it’ look, which Raph had become even more familiar with after their introduction to the mystic arts. No, this was something different, Donnie’s face was blank in shock, his face paling much like Leo’s. Before Donnie carefully swallowed and looked up from where his gaze had been locked on the screen. His eyes met Raph’s. Donnie looked away.

“He’s been poisoned.” He said, his voice in a careful monotone.

“WHAT!?” Mikey yelled, Donnie flinched at the sudden volume and Raph was too stunned to shush him.

“How did he get poisoned!?” Mikey asked, leaning over Leo, as if he could tell him. Raph also looked down at his bed-ridden brother. He had an oxygen mask on his face.

Donnie was frantically typing on his scanner.

                                            (he knew how)

When he realised that his question wasn’t going to get answered, Mikey turned to Donnie.

“What did he get poisoned with?”

Donnie’s hands shook.

                        (It was him, it was his)

“Cantharidin.” Came his answer, it was short, and he didn’t expand on it.

Donnie was still staring at the scanner.

                                          (his his his)

Raph didn’t know what Canny-three-iden was, but from just how unusual and freaked out Donnie was acting, he knew it wasn’t good.

So Raph had one very important question.

“Can you fix it?”

Donnie’s head snapped up to Raph’s meeting his eyes for a short, painful second before turning to Leo.

He looked guilty, Raph wondered what for, as this couldn’t possibly be his fault.

“I will.” Donnie tore a hand away from the scanner and made a movement as if to flip down his goggles. The goggles that weren’t on his head – left behind in his room. It was a nervous tick of his, as whenever Donnie was trying to hide something and knew that his expression would betray him, he would hide his eyes behind the blue and red lenses of his goggles.

Instead, his hands touched his head, covered by his purple mask. As if he touched something red hot, he jerked his hands away and started rapidly clenching and unclenching his fist.

Donnie inhaled sharply, “I just. I just need to synthesise an antivenom.” He said, sounding almost hysterical. “Then he’ll be fine.”

“-wait VENOM? I thought you said it was poison!” Mikey exclaimed, but it was in vain. Donnie was already running back out of the sickbay, like a bat out of hell, still clutching the toxicology scanner.

Leaving Raph and Mikey alone in the sickbay. With Leo.

Mikey turned to Raph, he was holding Leo’s hand, which was limp in his grasp.

“What do we do now?”

Raph thought. Donnie was going to be working on making a cure for Leo, but Raph didn’t know how long that would take, and the panic on Donnie’s face did not instil him with hope. So until then, they would have to look after Leo. Which they didn’t know how to do. And Donnie was gone.

“We uh, we need to get Pops, maybe he’ll know what to do while Donnie’s making a cure for the uh, carry-the-tree-in?”

They both stood there, waiting for the other to go and get Splinter. Neither wanting to leave Leo. Raph sighed and held out a fist.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

--

Why did he think it was a good idea to tell his brothers.

Stupid! Stupid!

He’d almost killed Leo!

No, correction.

He was killing Leo.

At this very moment, the toxin produced from his mouth, from him, was coursing through Leo’s veins, attacking his cells, and harming his health.

He was a danger to his family.

This wasn’t a concept that was foreign to him.

As he sprinted through the corridors, bumping into corners and impacting his (his his it was his it was his fault) shell, he found himself thinking of the other times he had hurt his family.

He had overridden their personalities.

He had attacked them in the mech.

He had given Leo a shock collar.

And he had learnt from that! He’d fixed himself! He was better!

He could fix this.

First, he would synthesise an anti-venom, then he would make corrections.

He slid into his lab, not bothering to lock it behind him. He plugged his scanner into his computer, transferring the data. He knew the exact chemical composition of his venom. He could do this.

Looking at the data, Donnie took a shaky inhale as he concluded that if the venom was left unchecked, Leo would definitely die. It was a certainty.  

The toxin seemed to have different effects from the normal unmutated version. It was such more rapid in it’s effects and was so much more deadly.

Donnie thought back to all he knew about antivenoms, to make one he would need to produce monoclonal antibodies that were specific to his venom. One could do this by stimulating an immune response in the body of a healthy organism by injecting it with the venom, and then collecting and purifying the antibodies the organism produced.

As he pondered, Donnie collected a sample of his venom, spitting into a container. A dribble of spit was left on his chin. He wiped if off with shaking glove-covered hands. Donnie then threw away the gloves, tossing them into his ‘to be incinerated’ bin.

Donnie clenched and unclenched his fists. There had only been a thin plastic separation between his skin and his venom.

                                                                                 (his his his)

To stimulate an immune response, he would have to administer an extremely small dose. He looked back to the data collected by the toxicology scanner, the concentration of his venom in Leo’s blood was already very small, but it was still having such a devastating effect on Leo.

Donnie looked at the data. It seemed like his venom could have different effects based on how it was administered. If ingested, it would have a much slower effect, slowly creeping up on the victim (Leo) over a matter of hours, slowly being absorbed into the blood stream from the stomach and intestines. Once in the circulatory system, the toxin would be readily absorbed into the body cells, stimulating them to produce enzymes and digest themselves, leading to cell death. Killing the cells from the inside out. It would have a greater effect in areas of exchange, such as the lining of the ileum (intestines) and the alveoli of the lungs. Causing gastrointestinal bleeding and a decrease in oxygen uptake, leading to difficulty of breathing.

If the toxin, however, was introduced immediately into the blood stream (for example, through a bite) it would have a much more immediate effect.

            ...Donnie didn’t want to think about that.

There was only one way that Leo could have ingested his venom, and that was when Donnie had run away during dinner, leaving his food. Donnie was filled with shame, why did he run? His stupid inability to control his own emotions, to be normal, was almost going to cost his brother (his twin) his life. He should have just sucked it up and finished his food.

Then incinerated the plate and cutlery to decontaminate it.

Donnie shuddered thinking about what would have happened if he had bit Leo directly. At that much of a higher concentration, compared to the minute amount that was left on his food, and the toxin going into effect almost immediately upon entry to the circulatory system.

It would have surely killed him before the end of the night.

Donnie shook himself off of that train of thought. He had to focus here.

Donnie quickly calculated the dose he would administer; it was less than a thousandth of the volume of venom that was killing his brother. Donnie had to consider the fact that he would be administering the venom directing into the blood stream instead of having it be ingested, and the fact that he didn’t want it to be anywhere close to a lethal dose. He only had one shot at this after all.

He prepared a syringe.

Usually, when making an antivenom, scientists would inject farm animals with the venom, such as a horse or sheep, to stimulate their immune system to produce the antivenom. But Donnie wouldn’t have time to acquire one of those, nor did he have any of the equipment he needed to contain and care for the animals. Nor did he want to look Mikey in the eyes and say he was experimenting on innocent animals.

So he lifted his arm.

It made sense! He was more similar to Leo than any domestic animal, he had a fast-acting immune system (thanks to Draxum), and he was already partially immune to his own venom, so his body should be able to quickly produce the antibodies required.

And it was better if it was him.

He definitely wasn’t innocent.

The injection had stung.

His shaking hands probably didn’t help much.

Donnie still clenched and unclenched his fists. He told himself it was to help the circulation in his body, so the venom spread faster, and his immune system reacted quicker. He was a terrible liar.

Now he just had to wait.

Taking a sick comfort in the knowledge that his body was currently preparing to fight its own venom, Donnie stood up from his desk. He couldn’t do anything else here, now he had to make sure Leo made it until the antivenom was ready.

He hurried back towards the sickbay.

(And if he felt lightheaded - well, that was his problem)

Chapter Text

Mikey had lost the Rock Paper Scissors match.

He always seemed to lose against Raph.

Squeezing Leo’s hand, (It didn’t squeeze his back) Mikey left the sick bay to go and get his dad.

Mikey had calmed down a little from the morning’s absolute panic, and while he wasn’t perfectly sound of mind right now, the knowledge that Donnie was working on helping Leo and making the antivenom (seriously how did Leo even get …venomed? Bit? …infected? No, that one was for zombies) had eased his mind. Because Donnie could fix anything.

Mikey ran to the living room. It was common knowledge that Splinter rarely ever slept in his own bedroom, always crashing on his chair in front of the projector. Skidding and overshooting the doorway, Mikey crashed into the hallway opposite the door before he found his footing and bounded into the living room. And there, low and behold, was Splinter, snoring contently on his chair, the projector still projecting his cartoons. Oblivious to the current situation. Mikey popped his lips, he almost wished that he could be in the same position, but that wouldn’t be so heroic of him, would it?

“DAD!”

Splinter sputtered, waking up in a panic, flailing about and falling out of his chair.

“Orange?! What’s going on?” he asked.

(art)

Mikey took a moment to appreciate the growth his father had gone through. If he had woken him up like this two years ago, Splinter’s immediate reaction would have been one of annoyance instead of concern. But maybe that was just from the trauma of witnessing the near demise of his children many times over. Who’s to say.

Mikey beckoned his father back the way he came, “Leo’s sick! It seems really bad, he was throwing up and now he hasn’t woken up. Donnie said he was venomed” Mikey couldn’t think of a word better than ‘venomed’ but couldn’t be bothered to find a better one. It worked anyway, if the horrified look on Splinter’s face was anything to go by, he had gotten what Mikey was saying.

Splinter set his face, “Is he already in the sickbay?” Mikey nodded, “Let us go. Now”

He didn’t need to tell Mikey twice, and they both hurried back towards the sickbay.

Splinter stood in the doorway for several seconds, eyes locking onto Leo’s unconscious body, before he moved forward and placed a hand on his head, caressing his forehead with his thumb.

“Oh, my Baby Blue, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Raph stepped forward, “Dad, we don’t know what to do, Donnie left to make a cure, what do we do until he comes back?”

Splinter hummed. In truth, he didn’t know much of what to do either. Most of his medical knowledge was more along the lines of physical damage, how to splint a leg or how to care for a concussion. But he couldn’t find it within himself to say that, not with the hopeful eyes of Raph on him. He had to sound like he knew what he was doing.

“You said he was throwing up, Orange? Then we must put him in the recovery position, so that if he is sick again, he does not choke.” Raph nodded and started to rearrange his brother with directions from Splinter. This continued for a while, Splinter giving Mikey and Raph menial tasks to do that allowed them to feel like they knew what they were doing and were helping Leo.

At one point they hooked Leo up to a heart monitor, as Splinter wanted Mikey to be able to hear Leo’s heartbeat without having to clutch his wrist, feeling his pulse. They all collectively regretted it, however. And Mikey was still holding onto Leo’s wrist. The steady beep beep beep put them all on edge and reminded them all too much of the days after the invasion. But it felt wrong to disconnect it now. So they slowly settled into silence, accompanied by that grating beep beep beep.

It was important to note, that Mikey, Raph and Splinter did not know just how harmful this toxin was. They didn’t know it’s effects or the danger it brought. So they sat there, not knowing how to feel. Should they be more concerned than they were? Was it not actually that big of a deal? (They doubted that they were exaggerating this situation however, Donnie looked way too worried, and they collectively had terrible luck) Only Donnie knew, and he was busy up in his lab.

Mikey was overcome by an internal conflict.

He wanted to check on Donnie, to see how he was getting on with the antivenom. However, doing so would require Mikey to leave Leo’s side. So Mikey was left in a seemingly never ending loop of ‘five more minutes, I’ll check on Donnie in five more minutes’, then when the five minutes were up, he’d look at Leo and find that he couldn’t move his body, and so conceded to five more minutes. And five more minutes. And five more minutes. And five-

Raph shifted in his seat.

Mikey was snapped out of his stupor, the sudden rush of awareness giving him the energy to jump out of his seat, consequently making all the other conscious occupants of the room jolt.

“I’m gonna check on Donnie” he announced. Raph nodded, wringing his hands nervously.

However, just as he was about to leave the room, Donnie strode in. They collided, and while Mikey quickly regained his balance, Donnie was almost sent to the floor.

Donnie flailed out, grabbing onto Mikey’s arm, and wow, he’s really got a good grip on me, Mikey thought. Unaware of the small tactile spines gripping his scales.

Mikey felt a little guilty, He had woken Donnie up after all. His amount of sleep for the past few days may as well be in the single digits. And though Donnie had disproved his claim, he still felt a little responsible for Leo’s position. He knew his food wasn’t the cause, but he still felt guilty.

As Donnie regained his footing, he removed his hands from Mikey’s arm.

As a consequence of opening a portal to another dimension, while Mikey could move them just fine, he had lost some feeling in his arms, like the nerve ends had been fried by the magic. It was because of this that Mikey couldn’t feel the delicate almost Velcro-like sensation of the tactile spines being pulled up and back from his scales.

Donnie looked rough, Mikey noted, somehow managing to look even more dishevelled than he looked yesterday.

While Mikey was examining Donnie, Donnie barely spared a glance to his youngest brother, instead striding forward towards Leo’s cot. He had an almost wild, desperate, look in his eyes. Like he had tunnel vision.

Donnie quickly rearranged Leo, moving him about and reconnecting him to new machines. He connected Leo to an IV, and placed a pulse oximeter on his finger, to measure his blood oxygen content.

He did all of this without acknowledging his brothers or father.

They all watched him, Donnie, slowly wind down as he ran out of thing to do, things to rearrange, things to fix.

Raph put his hand on Donnie’s shoulder after he seemed to come to a complete stop, staring intently at the various monitors hooked up to Leo. Still clenching and unclenching his fists.

Raph had made sure not to have touched Donnie’s shell. After the invasion Donnie had gotten much more sensitive about his shell and while he was usually fine with casual touches, in high tension situations like this it had the potential to send Donnie into a complete panic. Donnie was clearly on the edge of one.

“How is he?” Raph asked, his voice soft but still cutting through the silence of the room like a knife.

Donnie stubbornly kept his eyes on the monitors.

“He’s stable now, I’ve delayed the progression of m- the toxin as much as I can.” He stuttered, still clenching and unclenching his fists. Raph desperately wanted to take Donnie’s hands in his, to help in some fashion, but he knew that doing so would only make the situation worse. Raph felt so useless in this scenario, he couldn’t help Donnie and what could he possibly do to help Leo?

So he settled for gently squeezing Donnie’s shoulder. “What about the uh, antivenom, how’s that coming along?”

“I’ve started the process of synthesising it; it just needs time.”

“And how long will that take?” Raph pressed. Donnie shifted, rubbing his arm.

“I don’t, I- I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?!” Donnie yelled, suddenly exploding. He harshly shrugged Raph’s hand off of his shoulder and wrapped his arms around himself, clenching and unclenching the fabric in his hands, as he swayed standing in place.

Raph put his hands up as if in surrender and backed up a couple paces, giving Donnie some space.

Splinter, oblivious to his son’s mental state, chimed in, “Now purple, I know we are upset, but that is no reason to yell at your brother.” He chastised.

Donnie directed a scathing glare at him in response. Before inhaling and exhaling shakily.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” It seemed to take a lot of effort to remove on of the hands clutching his hoodie and bring it up to his face, where he massaged a growing headache, “I’m going to my lab to check on the antivenom. Don’t bother me.”

And with that, Donnie left. He didn’t spare a glance at the figure on the bed.

Raph moved to follow him, “You guys stay with Leo, I’ll make sure Donnie’s alright.”

Chapter Text

Donnie could still feel the phantom touch of Raph’s hand on his shoulder. If Raph had set his hand just a little further back, would he have felt the difference in the shape of his shell? He definitely would have felt the subtle vibrations coursing through it in his continuous attempts to quell the buzzing. It had been exhausting trying to keep it to a minimum. He couldn’t even stop it completely, just keep it to a level at which the buzzing wouldn’t be audible. And even that was an effort.

He had been trying so hard to be normal, surrounded by his family. But he had screwed up, he’d yelled at Raph. Splinter was right, there was no reason for him to yell at him. Donnie’s emotions -what ever he was feeling at the moment, he still wasn’t sure – were his own, he was responsible for them. No one else should have to bother.

His hands were still wrapped around his hoodie, clutching it. He was finding it more and more difficult to let go and release his grasp on things. He felt the pull back of Mikey’s scales after he had grabbed onto his arms. Donnie felt terrible for the lightning quick flash of thankfulness he felt for Mikey’s arms being numb. What kind of person felt those things?

He should take his hands away from the fabric of his hoodie, but he found them stubborn and unwilling to move. Donnie tightened his jaw, revelling in the pressure of his teeth against themselves. He clenched his jaw more and more, and the pressure grew uncomfortable, but he just couldn’t stop. This pressure was the proof that there lay no flesh between his jaws, that his teeth were not piercing flesh, that his saliva, his venom, was not entering an open wound. It was proof that the venom was imprisoned behind the tightly shut lid of his jaws. That it wouldn’t hurt anyone. More than it already has.

Donnie wasn’t going to call himself a monster. It would be quite hypocritical to do so. Being mutated alone doesn’t constitute that, and Donnie and his brothers had been mutants their whole lives, so calling himself a monster for that would also be insulting most of his social circle.

But then again, he was the only instance he knew of someone being mutated twice. That made him even more different. Twice removed from humanity. Could he call himself a monster then? Not only that, Donnie found himself thinking back to conversations with his brother, how he said that what made someone a monster wasn’t how they looked, but their actions. Donnie had poisoned his brother. What a monstrous action that was.

So Donnie found himself walking -no sprinting- to his lab once again (how many times is this now?) his hands clenched around the sides of his hoodie, digging into his sides, and the muscles in his jaw becoming tired and almost painful.

Around a corner, and around another. Why was his lab so far from the sickbay? Who’s idea was that?

His.

                   (his his his, the venom was his, his brain chanted)

His balance was off.

Running with your hands held to your hoodie would do that.

Growing four inches in an instant would do that.

Having your centre of gravity shifted would do that.

Being slightly infected with your (his) own venom would do that.

Having your entire identity shifted would do that.

               (Is he a monster now? Twice unnatural?)

He knew why his balance was off. Donnie knew that he was purposely ignoring it. And he was going to ignore that he was purposely ignoring it. And he was going to ignore that and that and ignore-

And there was the door to his lab.

It was shut.

That wasn’t a surprise. He had made the door specifically so that it closed behind him, to prevent his brothers from wandering in while he wasn’t there. To prevent them for messing with his experiments and to prevent them from getting hurt.

So Donnie was quickly brought to a halt.

His hands were still grasping his hoodie.

They didn’t automatically move up to unlock the door, like they usually did on instinct.

He needed to unlock the door, needed to open it.

But his hands remained by his sides, clutching his hoodie.

It was like there was a disconnect between his brain and his hands.

This was so simple it was painful. Just move your hands. Let go of your hoodie. Just do it.

Do it.

Why are you struggling with this?

Donnie grimaced, closing his eyes. He would grit his teeth, but if he clenched them any tighter, he was sure his teeth would crack under the pressure.

Snapping open his eyes, he was acutely aware that he had been standing in front of his lab door for far too long, staring at the handle and willing his hand to move. It was so simple! Motor neurones ran from his brain to the muscles in his hand and arm, there must be something broken in the pathway between them. Some miscommunication. The neurones in his brain failing to fire there and there, to stimulate an impulse to travel to the muscles and cause them to relax and contract.

He needed to move his hands.

He heard the sound of approaching heavy footsteps echo around his brain, vibrating around his head much louder than it had any right to be and escalating the dull throb of a forming headache. Ah, that would be Raph. His heavy footfalls unique within his family.

Raph. The one he yelled at. Oh joy. The chances that the ensuing conversation would be detached and unemotional were dwindling fast.

He heard Raph turn the corner, able to see Donnie in his line of sight now. Able to see Donnie standing dumbly in front of the door to his lab.

“Hey Donnie!” He said.

Yay. Interaction.

Donnie could not hope to articulate just how much he didn’t want to do this right now. He was grabbling with too many things to add ‘act normal’ to his ever-growing list. But he didn’t exactly have a choice here. Raph would no doubt, if he detected even an ounce of hurt, smother him with affection that he just couldn’t handle. Donnie feared that a genuine ‘are you alright’ would open his carefully crafted flood gates.

Well, nothing like societal expectations to make one forcibly snap out of wallowing in their own panic. Whatever, he can finish later.

He snapped a smile onto his face. He hoped it looked real.

“Salutations Raph” he responded. Eyes trained on a spot on his brother’s forehead. His teeth were still locked together.

---

(art)

“What are ya up to?” Raph asked.

Well that was a dumb question. He had just announced before he left (ran away from) the sickbay that he was going to work on the antivenom. Though, now that he was thinking about it, did he actually say that, or did he just think he did? Honestly, his memory was starting to fail him a little too much. Should he be concerned about that? Eh, he could worry about that later.

“Just… going into my lab. Not at all having a crisis. No sir.”

Darn. Curse his inability to lie.

One of Raph’s eyebrow ridges raised in suspicion. And Raph didn’t speak for a second, as if waiting for something.

         ...Oh yeah.

Donnie was going to go into his lab.

He could do this! He just had to move his hands!

Wasn’t it sad that he needed to give himself a pep-talk just to open a door. Maybe he could use his elbow to somehow to prop open the handle? Donnie saw Raph open his mouth, no doubt to comment on his lack of action.

“Donnie are you-“

Nope! Nope, not happening. If Raph brought that up, it would lead to a whole chat about this whole situation that he really didn’t want to get into.

The desperation clicked something in his brain and his arm jerked upwards. Turns out the desire to keep his secret about being partially mutated into a beetle was enough to snap himself out of his temporary paralysis and jolt his hand out to grasp the door handle.

Success!

It was like the one singular movement of his arm had allowed his synapses to fire double time. After opening the door, he started shaking his hands back and forth and wiggling his fingers, unable to keep them still.

As he strode through the door, he held it open for Raph, who was following behind him.

“…Okay” Raph trailed off, grabbing hold of the door as it slipped through Donnie’s grasp and swung towards him. To be fair, Donnie swore that the door did not use to be that heavy.

Donnie quickly walked towards his desk, sitting down on his chair. His chair… that he had ripped the back off in the midst of a small insignificant tantrum. (meltdown, breakdown, panic attack- take your pick) Yikes. He hoped Raph didn’t mention that.

“So, Don, what happened to yer chair?”

Drat.

He really did just jinx himself didn’t he.

“uh, I totally did..n’t, didn’t! tear off the back” he said, a perfect picture of honestly.

“Right.. Don, are you sure you’re oka-“

Oh no, they were not getting into this right now. Donnie hurried to redirect the conversation.

“-but no matter! There are more pressing matters after all! Such as dear Leo’s recovery.”

Donnie inwardly cringed, yes, he thought, just redirect the conversation from something you desperately don’t want to talk about to something else you desperately don’t want to talk about. That makes perfect sense, he said sarcastically.

“Fine, but this isn’t over” yes it was “so, what are you doing?” Raph questioned, turning towards Donnie’s monitor.

Donnie could do this, he just needed to talk science. That was what he was good at! He was amazing at science. He just needed to avoid the figurative conversational landmines that were; how Leo got poisoned, how Donnie got a hold of a sample of the toxin, just how deadly the toxin really was, and really just anything considering Donnie’s entire mental state at the moment.

He could do this.

“well, I injected myself with an incredibly small dose of the posion-“

“WHAT?!” Raph yelled. Ah, it seemed Donnie had forgotten the hang ups his brothers had about self-experimentation.

“-just enough to stimulate my immune system to create an anti-toxin!” he assured. His assurance did not seem to work all that well. Raph was waving his hands around, spluttering about how dangerous that was and how they couldn’t have two brothers poisoned. And really Donnie you should know better, you should have told us. And meh meh meh.

“Raph, I know what I’m doing – well, kind of-“ “Donnie!” “And anyway, I have yet to display any of the symptoms Leo has been displaying, there have been almost no negative effects!” And anyway, it was hard to tell which of the symptoms he was experiencing was due to either his (his) venom or the sleep deprivation, they got mixed together.

Was his headache caused by the fact that he hadn’t drunk water for hours, or the fact that his own venom was current coursing through his veins? Who’s to say?

Raph’s snout wrinkled in annoyance, as he took a deep inhale. “Almost, you said almost! That’s doesn’t mean none!” pointing accusingly. Donnie rolled his eyes, trust Raph to nit-pick. Anyway, he’d rather Raph complains about his minor disregard for lab safety than any of the aforementioned topics.

Raph sighed, accepting Donnie’s recent mad scientist actions as a thing of the past.

“Where did you even get the poison from anyway?”

Donnie really should stop jinxing himself. Wow. That’s one landmine blown.

“Leo’s blood” he quickly blurted. Okay, that was good, now just move on before you ruin this for your self or Raph continues this interrogation.  

“When did you-“

“-Anyways,” Donnie interrupted, “I need to check my blood to see if an adequate concentration of antibodies has been produced and I can move forward with synthesising the antivenom”.

Donnie turned towards his monitors, preparing a sample of his blood that he quickly screened. Raph sat down in a spare chair that he dragged over to Donnie’s side. He blanched minutely at the sight of Donnie’s blood, but otherwise stayed mostly silent as he watched over Donnie’s actions. For the first time, Donnie wished that Raph didn’t take an interest in his science and would just leave him alone.

Donnie looked at the data now displayed on his monitors. He was pleasantly surprised, the concentration was much higher than he had predicted. Finally, something was going right for him!

Granted, that thing was the creation of an antivenom for his currently dying brother who he poisoned with his own venom (his his his). But, if you ignored all that (something that Donnie was trying very hard to do), then everything was practically coming up Donnie! Donnie let a small smile creep along his face, the curve of his lips finally turning upwards.

Raph must have noticed his shift in mood, and he pointed at the data, “Is that good?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eye.

Donnie nodded, “by my predictions, if I collect a sample of my blood in an hour or so, there will be a high enough concentration of antibodies for me to purify them into a working antivenom!” Donnie was so glad his immune system worked fast.

Donnie could almost feel the weight be lifted off of his shoulders. He could fix this.

Raph smiled. “How long will that take?” he asked.

The question was good. It was a good question. Purely based in science, the answer could be given with no emotional attachment. And it was a good answer, Donnie could answer without ruining his current good mood for the first time in what felt like days. This was good. Donnie was going to chase this feeling.

“Well, after the hour wait, the purifying process should take around two hours I believe.”

Just three hours.

Raph’s smile stilted, as a sliver of doubt crossed his face.

“Will Leo… be okay for that long?” He stressed, still not knowing the extent of Leo’s condition.

Donnie’s mood plummeted. His happy state of mind didn’t stick around for long it seemed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t completely certain of the answer to that question. That was not a good question. Well, it was a good question in the sense that it was something that he needed to know, but it was not a good question because he did not want to consider the possibilities. The possibilities of the long-term consequences of his venom.

Leo wouldn’t die in three hours. Of that he was certain.

But that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t come close.

Donnie thought back to the effects of his toxin, of the Cantharidin. Of it being absorbed into Leo’s cells and causing them to digest themselves from the inside out. It was gruesome. It was a horror story. He wouldn’t tell Raph that. He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell his oldest brother just what was befalling Leo, just how his body was suffering as they spoke. He didn’t want to see his Raph-chasm (as dubbed by Leo) grow, or hear his worried fretting.

And honestly, if he was being selfish, he didn’t want Raph to be anxious and bother him with his worried questioning. Raph’s catastrophising would make him catastrophise and he was already dealing with enough without having someone bounce their anxieties off of him.

So Donnie looked Raph in the eyes, and lied. He quelled the nervous shifting of his shell as it started vibrating softly.

“Yes, Leo will be absolutely fine.”

He didn’t think it was that convincing, he was a terrible liar after all. But Raph relaxed, worry draining from his face as he smiled at Donnie, his eyes reflecting the purple gleam of Donnie’s monitor.

(And was Donnie’s lie actually convincing or did Raph just want to believe him?)

---

(art)

Chapter Text

Leo was not fine.

An uneasiness had been growing in his stomach ever since he had finished eating Mikey’s food. At first he had thought it was because of the speed at which he had inhaled it, and at the time he had thought it was absolutely worth it. Mikey’s food was brilliant after all.

But now? As he sat in his chair, hunched and trying not to move as he messed on his phone, trying to I gnore the uncomfortable feeling nestled in his stomach, he would say that it was not worth it.

This wasn’t just a case of Leo eating too quickly, something was wrong .

But Leo couldn’t find it within himself to say anything, or to leave to go to his room, he felt like doing so would ruin this delicate balance he was maintaining and would make him feel infinitely worse. So he sat there, still scrolling through his phone. Pretending like everything was fine

He had a good idea of what this was, food poisoning, it was the only thing that made sense, a natural conclusion to come to. But the guilt that flooded through him when he came to that conclusion seemed to make him even more sick to his stomach, and strengthened his resolution to keep quiet about his current -eh- troubles.

Because if this was food poisoning, then Mikey’s food would have been the cause of it. His little brother’s pride and joy. If Mikey found out that he had given Leo food poisoning? He would be devastated.

Leo couldn’t let that happen. He looked out of the side of his eye to see Mikey cleaning the kitchen with Raph’s help. He felt kind of bad for not helping, but he really didn’t want to risk it. He’d rather disappoint Mikey than make him think that he had poisoned him.

So Leo scrolled absentmindedly on his phone, searching up ‘effects of food poisoning’ and ‘how to hide from your brother that he poisoned you’ (The second one didn’t seem to have many answers)

He briefly contemplated texting Usagi, they really had been hitting it off after all, but he feared saying something wrong to him. He wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to be witty, and he didn’t want to sully his conversation with the feeling of being sick and his foul mood because of that.

After scaring himself by using the internet to investigate his symptoms (most of the result had proclaimed he was practically on his death bed) he continued to mess around on his phone, flipping between different apps, trying to find something to do. But he felt too uneasy to truly focus on one.

Leo zoned out, his eyes blankly trained on the home screen of his phone, and tried to ignore the unidentifiable, swirling , feeling bubbling up from his stomach.

He was snapped out of it when he heard Mikey call for him, wanting him to come and join him and Raph at the gaming console (when did they get there?)

He tried to politely decline Mikey and Raph’s invitation, but his denial seemed to make them more insistent. Mikey even called him a coward! Leo would usually dramatically swoon at the insult, claiming something like: ‘I save the world and this is the thanks I get?’, it was still a toss up to whether that response wouldn’t be taken well. Sometimes it made the shadows behind is brother’s eyes emerge, and their smiles fade.

But instead, Leo was going to be the bigger person. He huffed and declined Mikey’s insistence once more. But Leo had underestimated his little brother’s determination, as not soon after, Mikey had looked him in the eyes. His own eyes were wobbling dangerously. Oh shoot.

“Are you texting Usagi? Is that why you don’t want to play with us? Do you like him more than us?”

Leo tried to steel himself. He knew what this was. Mikey’s attempt at manipulation was not going to- Mikey’s lip wobbled, his eyes tearing up.

Leo sighed, and instead steeled himself to get up from the chair. When Mikey saw him getting up, the tears in his eyes disappeared immediately and he lit up, like he wasn’t preparing to cry just moments before.

Leo cursed his lack of resistance, because as soon as he tried to support his own weight, his legs buckled and he almost fell to the floor. Something made its way up his oesophagus. He swallowed, trying to banish it back to whence it came and to banish these more than icky feelings to the back of his mind.

He slowly made his way to his brothers. He was glad Donnie wasn’t there, he would notice Leo’s situation almost immediately. Donnie could always tell. Leo was sure that it was because of their twin-sense, no matter how much Donnie claimed that they weren’t twins, because it wasn’t ‘biologically possible’ or something. Well guess what Donnie? If you continue with that logic, we’re all half brothers at best. And that certainly wasn’t true.

He sat down heavily next to Raph, leaning heavily on the legs of a chair.

Oughboi, this was a bad idea.

The action of moving from his chair to the floor had obviously shook up something. Ugh. He just had to get through a few rounds then he could leave. And hey, maybe he would start feeling better, maybe he just had to get his mind off of it and it would pass.

So Leo prepared himself to play with his brothers. It took him a while to get set up, he was focusing more on his gag reflex than the game after all, and when they finally started the first round it was quickly clear that Leo was far from the top of his game.

His fingers shook over the buttons, his hands failing to fully grasp the controller as it kept threatening to slip out of his grip. It was unclear if it was due to the trembling of his hands or the sweat thinly coating them. Either way, he was grateful that his brothers were too preoccupied with the game to notice.

Though they did notice his lack in skill. It was true that he wasn’t truly devoting all of his attention to the game, he was a little preoccupied after all.

Throughout getting his shell handed to him, the horrible swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach had been steadily crawling up. And up. And up. And-

He had to go.

Not trusting himself to be able to stay for long, he quickly excused himself from the game, mumbling an excuse which Mikey and Raph didn’t question, probably because he wasn’t being much fun to play with at the moment, he had lost every round after all. Leo shuffled his way to the door, then as soon as he was out of their line of sight, he booked it to the nearest bathroom.

Quivering, he hunched over the toilet and then-

Nothing.

The horrid feeling wasn’t gone however, still lingering in his stomach. Leo almost laughed, It’s just like a sneeze isn’t it, as soon as your realise it’s coming, you don’t!

He stayed there for a few more minutes, on the sick hope that he would -well- be sick , and then this would be over. But no luck. He felt like it was taunting him, keeping him on his toes, trapped in a will it won’t it scenario.

He stood up from the bathroom. His hands wrapped around his middle, like he could suffocate and kill this feeling. Leo grit his teeth and turned away, sullenly making his way to his room. His hands were still gripped to his side.

He felt terrible.

He almost regretted his decision to hide this from his brothers. He wanted to be able to lay dramatically in bed like an ill maiden from the 1800s as Raph mother henned him and freak Donnie out by pretending to be contagious and poking him when ever he came near. Then pout when Donnie avoided him. He wanted to go back to the living room and flop onto Raph’s shell and complain about just how awful he was feeling, and have Mikey make food easy for his stomach.

But there was the stitch, Mikey.

It didn’t take someone experienced in medicine (like he was) to know that this was food poisoning. His brothers would be able to figure it out easily, and then Mikey would know and put two and two together, to get that his cooking had given Leo food poisoning.

And Leo couldn’t stress just how much that would affect Mikey.

One of Mikey’s greatest prides was his cooking. Much like his art, it was how he expressed himself. If he knew that he had hurt Leo through it, he would loose so much confidence in himself and feel so guilty.

And then when would be the next time Mikey would cook for them? When would be the next time he would hear Mikey badly singing from the kitchen as he tried out his newest recipe? The next time Mikey would stare into his soul as he took the first taste of an experimental dish (which would always be amazing) waiting for his opinion?

So Leo let his eyes slide over the corridor leading back to the living room, and returned on his journey to his own room.

—

(art)

Entering his room, Leo delicately flopped onto his bed. Sighing as the feeling swirled in his stomach.

Leo tried to distance himself from it, thinking about anything else.

The swirling was almost audible in his ears.

Leo went to pull out his phone, but found that he had left it in the living room.

No matter, looking at his phone would probably make him feel even more queasy anyway.

And one point he thinks maybe he fell asleep? He wasn’t sure honestly, his consciousness seemed to flow over him and back in tandem with the swirling in his stomach. Ugh.

Then sometime later that night, or morning (what time was it anyway?) Leo was jolted fully back into consciousness, by the nausea suddenly increasing to a climax and travelling up up up-

Yeah he wasn’t going to risk it, even if it was a fake-out like last time.

With energy he didn’t know he had, Leo bolted from his room and sprinted to the nearest bathroom.

The feeling moved up and up and up and he could feel it and

He just made it to the toilet before it was forcefully expelled from him.

And ew .

He vaguely thought, distancing his mind from the current events. It felt like with every heave, more and more of his energy was being siphoned from his body. The feeling had left a scorching path in its wake, he felt like he was burning from the inside out.

As if from far away he felt his eyes moisten. He wished his brothers were here. Leo felt like he was dying. He didn’t want to die alone (he thought he would be okay with that but he was wrong)

Time seemed to slip away from him, as he lost himself to the pain and how it just wouldn’t stop.

It kept going

        And going

              And going

                  And

And someone was touching his shell

He didn’t know who it was, but he was comforted by the gentle rubs on his shell. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

So the horrid back and forth of his heaving was accompanied by the loving back and forth of the hand on his shell.

After a while (don’t ask how long he didn’t know) Leo came back to himself. His stomach had been emptied long ago, and his dry heaving dwindled to him heaving over the toilet.

Now at least some what cognisant, he could recognise the person who had been with him.

Mikey.

“Mikey?”

Ah. Well that wasn’t good.

Leo’s sluggish thoughts were interrupted by the loud flushing of the toilet which grated on his ears and made his head throb painfully. What was he thinking about again?

With shaking hands he took the paper towels he was offered and wiped his mouth, to try and get the smell and taste away. He almost fell in to the bowl when he had to support himself with only one hand, which buckled underneath him.

He thinks Mikey was saying something.

Oh yeah, Mikey. Mikey. He wasn’t supposed to know. He’d be sad. And it would be all Leo’s fault.

He should say something. He thought. As the heaving came to a close once again. He should tell Mikey not to feel bad. He didn’t even think this was food poisoning anymore. This felt too bad. For it to be that.

Mikey’s food wouldn’t hurt him this much.

So it wasn’t Mikey’s fault.

He opened his mouth, and the swirling feeling returned with a vengeance. Taking over his mind once more.

Heaving and heaving, his energy being drained and drained. And drained.

And his vision blurred.

He felt hands grab him. Supporting him.

And he blacked out.

          The swirling continued.

——

When he came back to, it felt like he was swimming through molasses. His eyes felt crusted over.

Someone was holding his hand.

“Mikey?”

Chapter Text

Leo groaned from his place on the bed. Ugh. Everything hurt.

It felt like fire had crawled up his throat and gravity had increased its pull tenfold on his body.

Someone was holding his hand.

It wasn’t the large rough hand of Raph, nor Donnie’s calloused hand, it was much smaller, with crack like patterns running down the scales which had a texture like melted wax. It was also slightly warmer, like there was fire coursing in their veins.  

It wasn’t like the painful fire currently plaguing Leo, it was more comforting than anything, like sitting by a warm fire during winter. It made Leo feel safe.

There was only one person who this could be, and that was his little brother. Mikey.

At the realization of who exactly it was holding his hand, it seemed to jolt Leo into full awareness, calling out his name.

“Mikey?”

With difficulty he tore open his eyes, and immediately came to see Mikey’s concerned face looking at him. 

“Leo! You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Very much not good.

When Leo went to articulate just how terrible he was feeling, he found his throat dry, and was sent into a coughing fit, sitting himself up suddenly, and almost throwing the blanket that been draped over him onto the floor. It was very unpleasant to cough while wearing an oxygen mask, he found, and so Leo tore it off of his face, now coughing into his hand. Every cough sent a new jolt of fire down his throat, and he felt tears come to his eyes at the pain that just wouldn’t stop .

Mikey jumped and quickly retrieved a glass of water, letting go of Leo’s hand. Leo only had a moment to mourn the loss of the warm contact before Mikey’s hand slipped back into his, and he was holding the glass up to Leo’s lips.

Leo tried to take the glass into his own hand, but found that it was shaking too much for him to get a good grip on it. So he was forced to suck up his pride a Mikey helped pour cool cool water down his throat.

Once he was finished, Leo collapsed back into the soft sheets of the bed. He finally found his voice again, as hoarse as it was.

“Not great, ugh, this sucks, what happened? Where’m I?” He slurred. The last thing Leo remembered was feeling like he was going to die (again) while hunched over a toilet bowl. He remembered thinking that that would be such a lame way to die.

Mikey got up onto the bed with him, still holding his hand and leaning on him in a way as to not aggravate his condition.

“I heard you throwing up in the bathroom, you were throwing up blood! It was really scary! And you passed out, so we took you to sickbay”

He explained, While Mikey had had time to process the events of the day, he still seemed despondent. 

Leo saw this, and he thought back to his earlier thoughts, before his brain had gotten too clouded to think. Mikey probably thinks that his food poisoned me , he thought. He needed to tell Mikey that he didn’t blame him. Even if his food had been the cause. (And he doubted it, food poisoning wasn’t this bad, and Mikey had eaten the food too and he was fine, and Raph had seemed fine while he was playing video games with Mikey. That just left Donnie. Was he sick too?)

“Look, Mikey… your food… it wasn’t” He murmured, trying to get his thoughts into order.

—

(art)

His words were jumbled, his head still cloudy with sleep and pain. Because of this, Mikey didn’t seem to understand what he was really trying to say. Believing that Leo thought that his food was in fact to blame for this.

“Oh, Leo, I’m sorry! Donnie said that it wasn’t my food that did this… but still. If it was, I’m so sorry!”

Leo blinked, his mind slowly sorting this new information. He trusted his twin, so if he said that this wasn’t due to Mikey’s food, then it wasn’t. So then what could possibly be the cause of this?

“What did Don say it was, then?”

Mikey pouted, looking to the side as if to recall a memory. “I’m not sure, he was kinda vague about it. But he did say that it was poison or, or a venom. Yeah, a venom! It had a weird name too… something beginning with a C, Cathy something?”

Venom?

When could that have happened?

One would think he would remember being bit by some venomous creature.

Mikey snapped his fingers,

“Right! Cantharidin! That was it!”

Leo hummed, he wasn’t familiar with that venom. He vaguely thought he had heard of it before, but no where he could place. Maybe somewhere on the toxicology scan, or during one of Donnie’s rants? He couldn’t be sure.

“Wassat?” He slurred, attempting to sit up again to look at Mikey face to face.

“You expect me to know?” Mikey questioned, rolling his eyes, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be worried for Leo. But a moment passed and then he remembered where exactly they were and why Leo’s words were so slurred and incomprehensible. 

Mikey swallowed heavily and then he reached for his phone, “wait, I’ll search it up.” He said, tapping away at the screen. Avoiding Leo’s half-lidded gaze.

“Don’t worry, I’m not goin’ anywhere”' Leo joked, attempting to lighten the mood, taking extra effort to enunciate each syllable. It worked somewhat, as Mikey let out a quick exhale, a laugh that paled in comparison to his usual boisterous laughter.

Mikey bit his lip and scrunched up his face as it took multiple attempts to figure out how to spell ‘Cantharidian’, (canthariden, canfiradidian and cantheradinain all turned out no results) finally, Mikey got the correct spelling, and clicked on the first web page that appeared. Wikipedia.

“It says, Cantharidian is an odourless, colourless fatty substance of the… uh… t-something class. I don’t know how to pronounce that. Oh! It says here that it’s produced by blister beetles? What’s a blister beetle? It says it’s a burn agent?! Leo is it burning you?” Mikey read, exclaiming in worry at the last sentence.

“Nope, it’s not literally fire, though it does feel like it” He complained, though thankful that at least some of his medical knowledge could be of use.

“Where would you have even been bit by a beetle? We live in the sewers! There are no beetles like that here.” Mikey wondered, searching up more facts about the beetles that contained this poison affecting his brother.

Mikey looked up when Leo refrained from answering his question, a suspicious look on his face.

“Leo?”

Guilt must have shown on his face, because not soon after Mikey leaned forward, tilting his head.

“Leo, did you go out on your own again? You know we agreed on the buddy system! Did you go out and get bit by something and didn’t tell us?”

Now, Leo did in fact go out on his own. Sometime after he had caught Donnie sneaking back into the lair, he himself went out to get some fresh air. Yes, yes how hypocritical of him. But to be fair, the constant eyes of his family on him had been starting to get on his nerves.

After the invasion, and after Leo had recovered enough to actually walk on his own, Leo seemed to never get a moment to himself. Raph and Mikey’s eyes lingered wherever he went, Splinter was always just in the other room, and he didn’t think he had found even half the trackers Donnie had put on him. 

So he had just left for a little while. He didn’t even go anywhere! He had just wandered around. Revelling in the fact that if he tripped or scraped his knee his brothers wouldn’t act like he had cracked his shell again. He stayed out of sight and on the roofs, mostly just admiring the few stars that shone through the light pollution and the bright neon hues of his city. He kept his swords on his at all times, so that if something did happen he could escape quickly by making a portal. He was perfectly safe! Nothing bad had happened anyway.

But, he found himself unsure, nothing bad had happened, right? He didn’t think that just one bite from a normal beetle should have been able to do this anyway. Other than oozesquitoes, there were no majorly poisonous bugs in New York. He would’ve needed to have been bitten by a whole swarm of beetles for this level of poisoning to occur, and anyway, most bugs couldn’t bite through their scales. So, the only conclusion that made sense was that the beetle in question was a mutant. Though that didn’t narrow it down much, they had many mutant enemies.

But even then, it made even less sense that this hypothetical mutant had been able to bite him without him noticing.

Leo had been thinking for a while, and Mikey took his silence as a confession.

Mikey took a deep breath, “So, you snuck out, during which you got bit by a deadly beetle or picked a fight with a beetle mutant and didn’t tell us? You broke the buddy system! Is nothing sacred?” He summarized, reaching the end of his tether, Mikey leapt off of his bed, starting to pace back and forth, waving his arms, “I can’t believe this, Leo, what if you got hurt. Wait no, you did! You did get hurt! Oh, when you get better you are gonna be in so much trouble!”

In Mikey’s mind, he was coming to the conclusion that this whole nightmare of a scenario could have been avoided if Leo had just talked to them, instead of going out on his own and keeping secrets. All the worry and anxiety he had been feeling burst out of him in the form of frustrated raving.

Leo zoned out at Mikey’s ranting, becoming distracted by the throbbing of pain and the exaggerated pull of gravity. His eyelids became heavy, and the time it took to open them after every blink was getting longer and longer. He could feel himself slipping back into subconsciousness. 

It was at this moment when Raph and Donnie decided to enter the sickbay, they both froze as they was Leo awake (just barely). Tearing his eyes away from Leo, Raph noticed Mikey’s ranting and asked,

“What’s up Mikey?”

“You wouldn’t believe this Raph, but someone went out all by themselves last night and got bit by some weird bug!” Mikey exclaimed, crossing his arms.

Leo saw Donnie’s eyes widen in panic just before he finally slipped back into sleep.

(art)

Chapter Text

“You wouldn’t believe this Raph, but someone went out all by themselves last night and got bit by some weird bug!”

Donnie froze. 

What did Mikey just say?

Mikey’s words clicked something in Donnie’s brain, releasing some of the complicated emotions he had been so carefully suppressing and hiding away, as he tried to comprehend Mikey words.

There was no way he knew. That he knew that when Donnie had snuck out he had been bit by that oozesquito. That bug. (Or was he referring to Donnie as that ‘weird bug? Donnie was too tired to be rational)

He stood stock still, his mind sluggishly running through what Mikey could have meant by those words. He couldn’t think clearly. His eyes went blank with fear and he couldn’t bring himself to walk further into the sickbay, because Mikey was mad.

Why was Mikey mad?

If Mikey did in fact know about him, what he had become, then he must be mad at him .

Mikey must think he was a monster.

After all, who wouldn’t? Donnie was no longer the person they once knew. He had no idea how deeply this mutation had effected him, could it have changed him neurologically, could it have changed his personality? He had no way of knowing. 

And not only that, it had changed his physically. No longer did he have the soft shell that Leo treated like a personal pillow, instead he had ridged elytra, which contained wings of all things. He now had antennae stickling out of his skull, which heightened his sensitivity to smells. How much of Mikey’s cooking could he even stand to eat now?

Donnie was different. He hated it. 

Why would his brothers think differently?

Donnie looked at Leo, who had just passed out again on the bed. He had taken off the oxygen mask. Donnie should put it back on him.

If Mikey knew, did that mean Leo told him? How did Leo even know in the first place?

It didn’t matter.

Leo must hate him now too.

Donnie was glad that he had gotten here after Leo had fallen back asleep. (And didn’t that make him a terrible brother?) He didn’t think he could take Leo’s scorn.

They knew.

They definitely knew.

And Mikey was mad .

He could feel the muscles in his shell shift and twist in an attempt to move his shell up and out, to stretch his wings in nervousness. But they were a part of him. And so Donnie clamped down on their movement, and froze them in place with the rest of his body. 

Though his control was mediocre at best, as he soon felt a soft buzzing emanating from behind him. Lucky, Donnie could only feel it, and not hear it. So there was no chance of his brothers noticing (What did it matter, they already knew) unless they put a hand directly on his shell.

Freezing his shell in place seemed to made his anxieties worse, like the tight seal of his shell was the bottle cap to all his emotions, keeping them swirling inside of him under high pressure, and his mind played over and over again the thoughts of just how much of a freak he was, how different he was, how they would hate what he had become.

As he became more and more consumed by paranoia, distantly he noticed Raph take a step forward, walking further into the sickbay, talking with Mikey. Though the words didn’t reach Donnie’s ears, as he was too busy panicking to comprehend them, Donnie knew that Mikey was going to tell Raph what Donnie was. What he is. What a horrible freak he had become, twice unnatural.

Raph was going to turn around, his smile gone, and look at Donnie like he was a stranger. 

Donnie was already so different from his brothers. He thought differently, acted differently, he couldn’t interact with people like they could. So what would happen if he was pushed even further away? What would happen if he became even more different?

Raph would tell Donnie that he didn’t think they were brothers anymore.

But Raph didn’t turn around, instead he walked towards where Leo was passed out on the bed, gently trying to shake him awake. 

Mikey was the one to turn to him instead, and Donnie braced himself for whatever he was going to say.

Go on, tell me that I’m a monster now. Tell me I’m too different, tell me I’m too different to be your brother.

      (He had already been telling that to himself. He already knew it was true)

But instead Mikey turned to him, and he smiled .

What?

What’s going on? 

His tired brain tried to reorganize his perception of just what was going on to account for this new unexpected development. Why was Mikey smiling at him? Surely he was disgusted by him? Was this a trick? There could be no other explanation.

Oh, Mikey was saying something. He should probably listen.

“-Can’t believe that Leo went out on his own, it’s just so stupid! And he got hurt because of it! Honestly.”

Wait, what?

Leo did what?

“Leo went out on his own?” Donnie asked. His voice shaky from the swirling emotions inside of him. Mikey looked at him strangely.

“Yeaahhh? I’ve been ranting about that for like five minutes dude. You okay?”

—-

(art)

—-

Oh, Mikey was concerned about him, Mikey was concerned for him.

So that meant that Mikey didn’t know about him.

If Mikey knew then he wouldn’t be smiling.

“No, uh, I mean! Yes, I’m okay, I’m uh, just preoccupied by producing the antivenom, you know how I get, it’s science you know.”

Mikey squinted at him, probably guessing that there was something else he was hiding, but instead of pressing (he could do that after the current crisis had passed) he asked:

“Oh yeah, how’s that going?”

Shoving the emotions too complicated for him to decipher to the side, he formed a mask of cool professionalism.

“Good, I can start the process of synthesizing it in just a few minutes, but Raph insisted that we see Leo real quick before-“

He cut himself off as Raph made a triumphant noise from his place at the side of the bed. It seemed he had managed to get Leo to awaken again.

He probably shouldn’t have been doing that, but Donnie was too busy freaking out again to stop him. He needed to get a handle on himself, it was pathetic of him to immediately delve into panic the moment something didn’t go his way.

But it was too late to stop him now. And Donnie watched as Leo groaned, and threw is head to the side in annoyance.

If Mikey didn’t know what he had become, did that mean that neither did Leo?

Either way, Donnie tried to fade into the background as Leo opened his glassy eyes.

He didn’t want to face the brother who he had almost killed (was killing, his venom was still coursing through his veins) no matter if he knew or not.

Both options, of Leo looking at him with disdain, with the knowledge that it was him would was at fault for his position, and Leo looking at him normally, like nothing had changed, like Donnie had done nothing wrong, both filled Donnie with dread.

“Jeez, won’t you let a turtle sleep?”

Donnie tensed at Leo’s words. He sounded terrible.

That was his fault. Donnie had done that.

“Leo! How are you feeling?” Raph exclaimed, leaning in towards Leo, as if examining his face.

“Ugh, you can guess dude.” 

Leo answered, coughing slightly.

Leo looked up at his older brother, then to the side at his little brother. He then searched the room for his last remaining brother. His twin. Leo could have sworn he saw him just moments before.

“Where’s Don?” He asked, trying and failing to lift his head from the pillow.

“He’s just-“ Mikey turned around to where Donnie had been standing just a minute earlier, only to find an empty space where his brother had been. “-huh, he must’ve left. He probably just went to work on the antivenom”

Leo hummed.

“Mmkay, now lemme sleep” he asked, content now that he knew where all his brothers were (though he would’ve liked to see Donnie in person)

—-

(art)

—-

Donnie couldn’t handle it. He found himself slipping back out of the sickbay, not a moment after Leo first started speaking.

He hated himself for what he did to Leo. And if Leo knew what he had done, he would also want him to stay away.

Donnie was just being proactive.

He didn’t want to go and visit Leo anyways. Raph had dragged him along after Donnie had run out of excuses to stay in his lab, because not even Raph could be convinced that refreshing his data every minute was a helpful and vital process.

But now, enough time had passed that Donnie was confident that he could get started on synthesising the antivenom. The concentration of antibodies in his blood was optimal at this moment (or would be in five minutes, but Donnie was getting a little impatient, so sue him)

So Donnie quickly set up his apparatus. It was already halfway ready, and he just need to do a few last minute preparations, such as disinfecting the surfaces and other miscellaneous tasks. Donnie really didn’t want to do this next step.

He would have to take some of his blood.

Now, Donnie was okay with injections, as long as he knew exactly what was going into his bloodstream. But strangely, he couldn’t deal at all with his blood being medically removed from his body. It didn’t make any sense. But the sight of the deep red liquid flowing through that tube just -ugh- he hated it so much.

Leo had the scars to prove just how much Donnie hated it. His attempts to get some blood samples from Donnie (he could remember what for, he was a little busy trying to keep all his blood) resulted in Donnie biting him in self defense thank you very much. Leo deserved it honestly, and he had never tried again after that. 

Donnie smiled at the memory, before his mind wondered about what would happen if that transpired now, after his mutation. If Donnie ever gave into his instincts like that again and bit any one of his brothers, they could very well end up dead.

It was that thought that spurred him to stop procrastinating, and get on with it.

He hated every step of the process. He couldn’t decide if he preferred doing it himself or he wished he had someone else (Leo) to do it for him. (It was Leo, Donnie wanted his brother)

After it was over, he felt even more lightheaded than he did before. He had given around three quarters of a liter of blood. The recommended amount was only half a liter but Donnie couldn’t risk not having enough blood to create the antivenom, and so he would have to suffer the consequences. And he would do so gladly.

After all, he had been through way worse. He could get through this.

The synthesizing process was automated, and now that his blood was added he just had to wait for around two hours for it to finish.

The loading bar slowly started to fill with his signature purple hue.

Just two hours

Chapter Text

Donnie hadn’t moved away from the slowly filling bar for a while. 

He was standing next to the machine, hands clutching his hoodie and feet glued to the floor (possibly literally, the tactile spines on his feet were tensed and he couldn’t seem to make them relax). 

He watched silently as the purple hue slowly made its way across the bar, it crept along at almost a snail’s pace. Though he couldn’t find it within himself to turn away and do something more productive, his mind was empty, in a state of mild dissociation. 

And he waited.

The bar was a little more than half full now.

      And waited.

Donnie’s breaths came evenly; in and out, in and out.

The bar was three quarters full now.

            And waited.

In and out, in and out, as he distanced himself from the anxieties haunting him.

There was only a sliver of space left uncoloured in the bar.

               And waited.

Donnie swayed gently back and forth, feeling slightly faint.

Donnie’s breath hitched as the bar was completely filled. The machine made a happy ding, and an old recording of his voice called out; “Your antivenom has been synthesised! Your antivenom has been synthesised!” Donnie jerked at the sudden sound of his own voice. Why did he ever think that was a good idea? Every one knew that you always hated the sound of your own voice in recordings. He hated the person (the complete turtle) on the other side of that recording. That Donnie was so innocent, not yet understanding of just how easily he could lose his brothers. That Donnie was still a full turtle, not the horrid mix of genomes that Donnie now was.

Donnie quickly turned off the recording that had been continuing to chant on loop, silently cursing out his past, more naive, self. With shaking hands, he removed a dose of the antivenom that had been presented to him by the machine. 

This small vial would be the thing to save his brother's life. 

Shaking himself back into full awareness, he carefully stored the vial away. Donnie didn’t know what he would do if it broke. Cry, probably.

Now that he had the antivenom, Leo could be cured. He would be healthy again and not dying. Donnie wouldn’t be the one to kill his brother. But that didn’t take away from the fact that he almost had. Once again he had come way too close to being the cause of one of his brother’s untimely demise. 

Except this time there was no life lesson he could learn from this. There was no character growth to be had. Learning to appreciate his brothers as individuals or letting them work in their own ways would not help this situation in the slightest. The only growth that had occurred was the growth of beetle characteristics on his body. And that sort of growth was very much unwelcome.

That was growth he would have to hide. That was growth that he could not let his brothers become aware of. 

After he cured Leo he could start on that.

So Donnie quickly made his way to the sickbay, the vial not leaving the firm grasp of his hand. 

Donnie crashed into the room, throwing the door open behind him. Giving into habit, he quickly scanned the room to see who remained in it.

Still remaining in the room was Raph and Mikey. Mikey had put on a mask while Donnie was in his lab, and the smell of breakfast had permeated the room. Raph must have forced Mikey to take a break from worring about Leo and do something productive. Raph must not have followed his own advice however, as he was still sitting next to Leo, in the same place as when Donnie saw him last. Splinter was gone. This wasn’t surprising news, he never did handle sickness very well.

Donnie looked at Leo (he didn’t let out an exhale of relief when he saw that he was still passed out) someone must’ve put the oxygen mask back on to his face. 

Ignoring the acknowledgment of his brothers, Donnie walked over to Leo and checked on his vitals. Since Donnie had last seen, they had fallen further from what they should be, exceeding Donnie’s predictions, but thankfully not by much.

As Donnie looked over Leo’s low blood pressure and blood oxygen concentration, he felt the stream of shame that had consistently flowed within him rise as he was yet again reminded that he had done this.

This was his fault.

And no one knew. 

It made Donnie sick to his stomach, knowing that he was responsible for Leo’s position yet his family still treated him normally.

His family didn’t even know just how close Leo came to death, Donnie had never truly told them about how serious Leo’s condition was. If there was any more of Donnie’s spit on that food then instead the beeping of the heart monitor could very easily have become a heartbreaking flatline.

Donnie shook his head, he didn’t want to think about that.

Donnie prepared the antivenom. It had to be administered intravenously, so Donnie prepared a syringe. Raph and Mikey both blanched at the sight of the sharp needle.

“Oh, Donnie, is uh, is that the antivenom thing?” Raph asked, and Mikey’s hand clutched Leo’s hand even more tightly.   

Donnie gave a curt nod, not finding it within him the speak. He would start signing non-verbally to convey what he wanted to say (what did he want to say?) but doing so would reveal just how much his hands were trembling.

The air was tense and so none of his brothers spoke anymore after that, rightfully guessing that they wouldn’t get any spoken answers. And the atmosphere was too oppressive, any noise made would be far too loud, even if conveyed in whispers.

Both Mikey and Raph looked away as Donnie cleaned an area on one of Leo’s shoulders. And so they didn’t see as Donnie took a deep breath and exhaled and willed his hands to stop shaking. He needed a steady hand for this.

Pushing in the antivenom into Leo’s veins Donnie felt some of the crushing weight he had been under leave him. With this, Leo’s immune system would be able to more rapidly destroy his venom, stopping it from destroying his cells and allowing him to recover. 

Removing the syringe, Donnie placed a small blue plaster over the little puncture wound. 

There.

Now Leo would be okay.

He would be okay.

…

Now what?

With the pressure of Leo’s survival now gone, it was like a pressure vacuum had been created, and a new crisis rushed to take its place. Practically knocking Donnie over by its sudden emergence.

Donnie felt himself be almost immediately overwhelmed by all that he had suppressed throughout Leo’s crisis. Suddenly he was hyper aware of the differences in his body. How his center of gravity was altered, the feeling of his antennae pressed against his mask, the thick scent of oil on his mask that doused his antennae, the sticking feeling whenever he took a step or grabbed something when his tactile spines tensed in reflex. The shifting of his shell. It was still shifting. Never completely still nor static.

And it was so much.

It was too, too much.

Donnie’s brain clouded with the sudden influx of information, feelings, emotions he had been suppressing for ages now.

Then during the midst of his descent into panic Donnie felt arms restrict his sides and press into his shell. Someone was hugging him.

Someone was touching him

Someone was touching his shell .

All his thoughts stilled as his mind went blank in panic. This couldn’t happen. 

“GET OFF!” He yelled, pushing away whatever had enveloped him with much more strength than he should have. The weight in his mind was all encompassing. He couldn’t think, only experiencing the difference, the difference. Why and when had everything become so different. 

His hands collided with a warm surface, speckled with cool plastic stickers. The tactile spines on his hands (his his they were his and they were on his hands) somehow knew about his need to get this thing away (they were connected to him, embedded in his nervous system) and they remained lax, not tensing so that he could properly push his aggressor away without attaching to that warm plastron.

Plastron?

Donnie opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to find himself pressed tightly against the wall of the sickbay, Mikey on the floor in front of him.

Mikey’s eyes were wide with panic. And was that fear?

Fear for Donnie?

Fear of Donnie?

Mikey should be scared of him, if he knew just how terrible and monstrous he truly was. 

Donnie’s eyes flicked, still cloudy, to Raph who was still standing next to Leo’s bed. Raph had stood up, looking alarmed, his eyes moving between Mikey and Donnie, as if not knowing which one to be more concerned for. The answer was obvious.

Raph should worry about Mikey, and see if he was okay. Donnie didn’t want to do it, he didn’t think he could crouch down to Mikey’s level, to the floor which Donnie had pushed him on to and look at Mikey and ask if he was okay after what Donnie had done. 

What if he hurt Mikey even more? He had pushed him down with more strength than he thought he had, with more than he had before the mutation. Was this another change? Would he never stop finding ways that this mutation had violated his body?

Donnie’s breaths came in quicker and quicker succession. And he found himself slowly lowering to the floor, his back firmly against the wall, trying to quell the feeling of his shell pushing pushing at the fabric of his hoodie.

Donnie bit his sleeves, trying to muffle his sobs. However a moment later he jerked his mouth away when he felt the fabric become wet with his saliva and was suddenly all at once reminded of how he hurt Leo how he was a danger how he had changed.

Mikey, after getting over his shock, quickly got to his feet, ignoring the small bruise forming on his elbow. At the same time, Raph came out of his stupor and made his way around Leo’s bed to face Donnie.

They both stood an arms length away from Donnie, giving him his space as he spiraled. 

“Donnie? You need to follow my breathing, okay?” Mikey asked, now crouching down to Donnie’s level, as he started counting out breaths.

“Leo’s gonna be okay now. Everything’s gonna be alright” Mikey placated, his voice soft, trying to calm Donnie down. 

Little did he know, Donnie was too caught up in his own mind for Mikey’s words to have any effect at the moment.

“No it’s not!” Donnie gasped out, because it wasn’t. His breathing became erratic. Leo may be on the road to recovery, but Donnie had been the one to cause his affliction in the first place. Who’s to say that it wouldn’t happen again. He had just pushed Mikey down, for crying out loud! He was horrible! He was different!

“Why not? Is something wrong with Leo?” Raph asked, believing that the cause of Donnie’s state was because of something going wrong with Leo’s health that Donnie wasn’t telling them.

(Mikey then elbowed Raph, hissing at him to not turn this into an interrogation)

“NO!” Donnie wailed, making both Mikey and Raph flinch at the sudden noise.

He’s scaring them again

Donnie stuffed his sleeve back into his mouth again, starting to mumble incoherently.

It hurt to see their brother so distraught and have no clue as to why. They wanted so badly to comfort Donnie, to hug him and tell him that everything would be alright and he could tell them what was going on, but they knew that doing so would probably only make it worse, if Donnie’s reaction to Mikey hugging him had been any indication. 

So instead they remained there, half crouched as Mikey continued to attempt to calm Donnie down via breathing exercises. Raph wringed his hands together, wishing he could just hug Donnie already.

This continued for a while, with Donnie frozen in a corner of the sickbay, his mouth locked over the fabric of his hoodie and eyes fixed on a point in space somewhere between his brothers. He was however trying to follow Mikey’s breathing to somewhat limited success. 

After Donnie had calmed down enough so that his breathing was once again somewhat stable, Mikey prepared himself to attempt to breach the topic of what had triggered this. Throughout the time he had been repeating the breathing exercises he had also been rehearsing his next few words in his head, trying to find the perfect thing to say.

All that went out the window when Donnie sensed the lull in Mikey’s repetitions of the exercises and heard him taking in a breath in preparation to speak. Donnie’s eyes met Mikey’s and those half-lidded and blood shot eyes tore a hole straight through Mikey’s heart.

So instead the words that poured out of his mouth were so terribly cliche.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Donnie opened his mouth slightly (which was still full of the now soaked fabric of his hoodie sleeves) as if he was preparing to speak.

He couldn’t tell them. As much as he knew that they would hate him for it, and as much as they deserved to know just what a monster he had become, twice unnatural, Donnie was still just a little selfish. He didn’t want to see their eyes become dark with distrust as he told them how he was responsible for Leo’s condition and the threat he now posed to their health. 

He wanted to keep this.

He wanted them to keep looking at him with love and concern

Donnie didn’t want his brothers to hate him.

The internal debate continued, as Donnie opened and closed his mouth. Doubting every choice he made as to what to say to his brothers. 

He could feel his shell still pressing against the wall, as if desperate to escape and reveal itself. But Donnie couldn’t let that happen. 

The truth was that Donnie didn’t want to talk about it. He would rather keep this bottled up inside of him, and keep his shell hidden behind layers of fabric and metal indefinitely. He could do that, easily.

He couldn’t let his brothers find out just what a threat he had become. And like with all of his other problems, he could correct them with his tech. Mitigate the danger he posed.

Donnie opened his mouth again, and promptly snapped it shut once more when he heard a low groaning coming from the bed.

Leo was awake again.

Chapter Text

Leo was awake again.

—-

Donnie’s mind screeched to a halt as Leo attempted to prop himself up trying to see what was going on. 

Leo’s arm flopped over the bed, its limp sway and pale pallor reminding Donnie that there were more important things to be concerned about. Feeling like his mind was floating somewhere to the left of his body, Donnie robotically got up from his place on the floor. He walked over to Leo.

He dodged Raph’s attempt to reach out to him.

He ignored Mikey’s concerned, “Donnie?”

In one hand, he held the front of his hoodie, bunching it up and pulling it taught, so that it pressed down on his shell, holding it in place and preventing it from moving outwards. 

Donatello’s feet dragged on the floor, it felt like gravity had grown a grudge against him, increasing its pull on him tenfold. Every one of his limbs felt so much heavier. He wanted so badly to just lie on the floor, or to crawl under his weighted blanket and just, stay there, for like a week. Or a year.

But he couldn’t allow himself to do so.

Donnie had already come so far, he’d kept this hidden throughout this whole crisis. He’s kept his brother alive throughout his whole crisis. 

He could already feel his control of the situation slipping. His little freak out earlier had definitely alerted his brothers to his less than optimal mental state. 

He would need to prove to them that he was absolutely fine.

No existential crises here, no sir!

Donnie would have to act like a perfect pinnacle of mental stability

(He could do that, it was like masking! …Except Donnie was already pretty terrible at that, having almost no need to practice masking in the first place due to his very limited social circle and his tendency to not care about the opinions of anyone outside his family.)

So Donnie put on a brave face and pretended that he wasn’t just hyperventilating in the corner minutes ago, or that he wasn’t just about to face his brother who he had poisoned, like he wasn’t going to talk to his brother for the first time since said poisoning. Donnie also had to pretend that his soft shell was still the same as it’s always been, like it could not open and close on a biological hinge. Like he was still the same person he was a few days ago.

Donnie knew he was often described as a ‘drama kid’ but this was a bit much.

But he had to pull off this role.

So making sure his new appendages didn’t buzz or stick or do anything that wasn’t usual Donnie behavior , Donnie walked up to Leo’s bed and made eye contact with his twin.

Nope, nope, too much.

Donnie could feel his breath begin to hitch and he quickly looked away. Eye contact was a big no. 

So instead Donnie looked to the many monitors surrounding his brother. He had made most of them. That small dent there? That happened when Mikey had jumped on him while he was soldering some circuit boards, causing him to fall into the then-in-progress machine and partially smush it with his battle shell. That was also how Donnie had gained a small burn scar on his thumb from where the soldering iron burnt him after he had dropped it. 

But forget that, this was no time to get nostalgic. (Now he wouldn’t drop the soldering iron, not when his tactile spines would make it inescapable from his grip) Donnie turned his attention to the data on the various screens.

All of Leo’s vitals had been steadily improving, though he was still in no way back to full health, his blood oxygen concentration was on the rise and was sufficient to allow the removal of the oxygen mask, which was good, because the first thing Leo had done after waking and regaining so control over his limbs was to extract his arm from under the tight sheets and knock the mask off of his face.

The dumb-dumb.

From the corner of his eye, Donnie saw Leo use that same free hand to rub at his eyes. Leo squinted his now gunk-free eyes and looked forwards, seeing a purple and green blur that could only be one person.

“Donnie?”

Oh banana pancakes he’s talking to me

Donnie froze. 

He had to say something.

“Salutations Leo, I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling? Any pain? Because you’ve just been injected with an experimental antivenom to Cantharidin. Experimental! Because no ones ever bothered to make one before! Because it only comes from beetles! Beetles! Which are small and can barely affect anything! I mean a beetle! Why did it have to be a beetle? I mean-“ Donnie cut himself off. This was getting away from him. He really should stop ranting about beetles (and only beetles, there was no second, deeper meaning here) and focus on Leo’s condition.

Donnie brought his mind back to himself. 

He found himself gripping the frame to Leo’s bed in his frustration.

(What was there to be frustrated about? Everything is fine)

Inhaling slowly, Donnie moved his body around so that it seemed more natural for him to be leaning on the frame in this way.

(It wasn’t because he didn’t think he could let go. If he wanted to he could definitely let go)

With one hand gripping the bed frame and the other still gripping his hoodie, Donnie didn’t have any hands left to gesture with, so he stared blankly at a spot on the bed as he waited for Leo to respond. Raph and Mikey both came over to Leo as well. Both thankfully gave Donnie some space. Not that he needed it. He was Fine.

Leo took a minute to comprehend the sudden flood of words spewn at him. He blinked. 

Leo looked around him to see both Mikey and Raph lent over the bed and looking at him with concern, Leo could also see Donnie standing by the foot of the bed, a blank look on his face.

Gosh, his body hurt. It was like someone had taken a hammer repeatedly to every part of his body. His throat still burnt, but the swirling feeling in his stomach had faded to a shadow of what it had once been, it felt less like something was rocking his stomach as if it was on rough sea but more like he had sunk to the bottom and the weight of thousands of gallons of water was pressing down on him.

This was a hauntingly familiar predicament he had found himself in. It was only a few months ago he had woken up in this same room, and faced the same people. Raph looked at him intensely, searching for any injury or sign of sickness as if he could fight it himself. Mikey searching his now open eyes with his own full of thinly veiled worry.

And Donnie, just like before he was refusing to meet his eyes. However. Something was different with his behavior. He wasn’t hurrying around Leo and the connected machines, he wasn’t firmly (but gently) poking at Leo asking him question after question about his health that Leo could possibly answer.

Instead, Donnie was still. Other than his original outburst of questions (which were so broad and unspecific, like seriously, ‘how are you feeling’ what kind of question was that?) Donnie had fallen silent. He wasn’t fidgeting with his phone, or a display, or a random gadget he had pulled out of nowhere, It was one of the clearest signs that Donnie was worried and trying not to show it. But even though Donnie was clearly freaked (The outburst earlier was a clear enough sign) he wasn’t acting like Leo would predict. 

Donnie’s hands did not fidget nor tap, instead they were gripping onto his hoodie (that was the hoodie with the nice fabric, that Donnie only wore when he was having a bad sensory day) and onto the frame of the bed. 

It wigged Leo out.

He already felt off balance, first he wakes up in sickbay, after suddenly descending into horrible sickness out of complete nowhere. Apparently he got bit by some poisonous beetle, but Leo thinks he would remember that happening. And now Donnie’s acting weird? Unacceptable.

Donnie must be really freaked after all. Maybe this was what Donnie acted like immediately after the invasion, and Leo was just passed out for all of that. Because Leo could always read his brother. No matter how much Donnie pretended like he was some ‘emotionally unavailable bad-boy’, Leo could read him like a book. So this must be some new thing that Leo had never been present for before. The thought left a weird taste in his mouth.

Raph gently poked his cheek.

“Leo? You alright?”

Oh yeah, they were supposed to be concerned about him .

Leo thought back to what Donnie had said before. Something about some experimental antidote? Antivenom? 

After taking stock of his body, it was clear that it was working. Though he still felt terrible, he felt comparatively less terrible than he did the last time he woke up. An improvement! He could take full breaths without feeling like his lungs were going to combust. 

Leo wiggled his free hand again (seriously how tight did they tuck him in, was this some attempt to restrain him?) lifting it up and delivering a triumphant thumbs up, the effect was somewhat dampened by the fact that his arm was shaking by the exertion. 

“Feeling much better, Raphie! -cough- Donnie did a great job with that antivenom!” He jabbered, tacking on the encouragement at the end. There, that should help Donnie feel better. Any second now, Donnie will look up with a smug smile and visibly preen at the praise. 

Donnie will say something like: “of course my antivenom worked! Everything I make is perfectly functionable, you’re lucky to have me as a brother and meh meh meh” and then Leo will take back what he said and be really dramatic like: “ugh, never mind, i feel myself… growing weaker…I see… a light… it’s so pretty…” and then Raph will lightly smack him because that’s too soon for a joke like that and Mikey will laugh and everyone will feel better, and the atmosphere will lift and Donnie will act like himself again.

…Any second now…

But no, Donnie barely reacted to the praise. Instead he just shrugged and looked towards one of the monitors. His hands remained gripping the bed frame and his hoodie.

“Just tell someone if you start to feel any negative side effects.”

(Tell someone , not Donnie. Why wouldn’t Donnie want Leo to talk to him?) 

Leo furrowed his brows, what was going on? Did he annoy Donnie somehow? Normally a near death experience wiped all the slates clean, or at least until Leo was back on his feet and Donnie could exact revenge for whatever Leo did.

Did something happen before he woke up?

Leo opened his mouth, to talk to Donnie or ask something else he didn’t know, he had been thrown off his game, his predictions had gone completely in the wrong direction. 

But he was interrupted by Mikey losing what was left of his self restraint and enveloping Leo in a hug, carefully squeezing him and inhibiting any sound coming out of Leo’s throat. 

“Mikey! Careful!” Raph fretted, waving his hands around, coming just short of actually pulling Mikey off Leo.

But Mikey only shook his head, somehow wrapping himself further around Leo like a koala. 

“Nooooo, you can’t make me!” He whined, his voice muffled from where he had shoved his head into Leo’s shoulder

Chuckling, Leo used his free hand to pat Mikey’s head. There was no chance of freeing the other arm, now that Mikey had wrapped himself around it and placed his weight atop of it. 

“It’s fine Raph, I am feeling much better” he smiled, reaching out his hand to his big brother, “In fact, get in here big guy.”

Raph bit his lip, shortly plagued by an internal debate about what he should do, before he was easily won over by the pleading eyes of not only Leo, but also Mikey, who turned his head slightly so that his misty eyes could pierce Raph’s heart and immediately destroy any restraint he previously had.

“Aw, fine, I’m so happy you’re feelin’ better Leo!” He conceded, falling into the hug. He barely applied any pressure, careful as he always was. He was resting on top of both of them, enveloping them in his wide and comforting frame. Raph started loudly churring, the vibrations alleviating some of the soreness in Leo’s body.

Leo felt much better, as corny as it was, the warmth from the presence of his family was helping him forget about the heaviness in his own body and the lingering pain.

All that was missing was the figure he could still see lingering by the foot of the bed. Donnie still hadn’t moved, his hands still stubbornly gripping as he stared intently at the monitors.

(If Leo strained his ears, he would hear a slight buzzing beneath Raph’s loud churring)

——

(Art)

Chapter Text

The hug had lasted a while. 

Donnie was acutely aware of the time passing while his brothers all comforted each other. As he stood apart from them all.

And while he was disappointed to not be able to be a part of their embrace, the loud sound of Raph churring slightly eased Donnie’s nerves, and also caused his shell to open minutely and allow some of the soft buzzing to escape, hiding the insect-oid tone beneath Raph’s own comforting vibrations. 

Letting the sound from the buzzing of his wings escape into the room felt like Donnie was also releasing some of the horrid swirling emotions that had welled up inside of him. 

All of this allowed Donnie to relax his grip on the bed frame, as the tactile spines pulled back and he was able to peel his hand off of the frame like a Velcro strip. 

He ignored the small indents left in the frame where his hand used to be.

After his brothers finally disconnected, and Donnie had disconnected from the bed frame, time went by quickly. Moving like a sped-up film as Donnie went through robotic motions of caring for Leo.

Raph and Mikey still gave Donnie frequent concerned looks, perturbed by his suspiciously quick recovery from his panic attack, but after a while they seemed convinced by Donnie’s facade. 

After all, they thought, his panic must have been caused by Leo’s illness, so now that Leo’s okay, Donnie must be feeling better! He may still be acting a little off just because he is emotionally drained! Anyone would be after such an experience!

So Raph and Mikey continued along their normal routines around Donnie. They didn’t confront him about what caused his panic or overstimulation (they already had a good idea about that anyway). They included him in casual conversation (even though his responses were short and detached). They opened themselves to casual touches, not directly touching Donnie, but making it clear that they were open to anything he wanted (even though Donnie didn’t take any of the opportunities given, always keeping a few inches between himself and his family).

Leo however, remained suspicious for the entire time Donnie was in the sickbay with him. 

Even while Donnie was examining him and asking him questions, Leo’s eyes followed him, narrowed. It felt vaguely like Leo was looking at a puzzle he had yet to solve. Donnie didn’t like it, overcome with paranoia that Leo could somehow see under his hoodie to view the new iridescent sheen on his shell. His elytra.

Or maybe Leo could see how Donnie hesitated each moment before he grabbed something.  

How he grabbed everything with only the tips of his fingers.

Was he sure that Leo didn’t know? Maybe he had found out about his mutation somehow?

Leo’s eyes bore into Donnie’s, like he was waiting for Donnie to make eye contact with him. Waiting to ask about what was wrong with him.

Donnie escaped the sickbay as soon as he was able, under the guise of checking Leo’s blood to make sure the antivenom was working as it should (which he was going to do anyway) he left the heavy atmosphere of the room with the statement that if all went well, Leo would be able to leave the sickbay by the next day, as long as he didn’t overexert himself. Donnie could barely remember the exact words he had said, they were just a blur or scientific jargon and sarcastic quips that he hoped sounded like him.

He didn’t see Leo’s suspicious gaze turn softly concerned behind his back, and didn’t see him turn to the others with questions on his lips.

———

Back in his lab, Donnie frantically locked the door behind him and tore off his hoodie. He felt a vague sense of deja vu as his shell immediately opened and stretched outwards, the buzzing suddenly increasing in tempo and pitch as the sound was fully released. It felt like Donnie had a hive of bees on his back. His skin crawled. 

The LED lights in his lab caught on the insect wings and a kaleidoscope of colours were reflected and decorated his walls.

Donnie would be able to appreciate its beauty if he wasn’t trying to internalize everything that had happened in the past couple of days (how long had it even been since that trip to the scrapyard?). He realized he had never truly had time to do so. So much had happened, devastating events just just piling on top of other devastating events, building compound pressures up and up till he broke under the weight.

When Donnie turned his head to get another look at his shell, his mask grated weirdly on his antennae, pulling awkwardly on them. 

Shocked by the sudden foreign sensation, he jerked his head back. Like he could get away from this feeling on his head, but it was no use as the sensation remained and did not go away. Following him.

And it was too much, and so Donnie in a fit of frustration pulled off his mask.

His antennae sprung free.

And again he felt so. much. more.

But he was done. Done!

Donnie wasn’t going to put the mask back on. He threw it to a corner of his lab. He shook his hands back and forth in a desperate attempt to release the feelings swirling inside of him.

He grit his teeth and stomped his feet, his tail lashing back and forth.

He was not going to let these changes DICTATE HIS LIFE! It was HIS dammit, he should be the one in control! No matter how uncomfortable they made him! No matter how much they made him want to crawl out of his own skin!

Donnie felt something snap as the feelings he had repressed suddenly exploded out as a torrent of anger.

The past few days have been nothing but panic, and pain, and and paranoia! 

He had been miserable, really really really miserable (that’s three reallys) all because what? Some stupid insect bit him, because he was being stupid? This was his own fault wasn’t it?

Idiot Idiot Idiot

And Now! Because of his failings (he was supposed to be the smart one) look at what had happened! His body had changed, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, he was even more of a danger to his family, he almost killed his twin! His brother! Leo! And throughout all that, he couldn’t even properly focus on fixing his mistakes!

Why?

Because these STUPID CHANGES TO HIS OWN BODY! WHICH HE COULDN’T EVEN FIX! HE WAS THE ONE WHO FIXED THINGS! 

What did it mean if he could even fix this?

No. No!

No .

He just 

hadn’t tried hard enough

There had to be some other solution.

To fix the

Pounding in his head from the over influx of

Information

Intermittently combining with his own internal monologue were the scents and sensations that the antenna picked up from his lab. Merging in a twisted dance with his own thoughts as unwanted information was directly inserted into his brain. 

The oil. The sulphur. The disinfectant. His blood. The ozone. The coffee.

It was so much! It was too much! HE COULDN’T THINK! IT WAS TOO LOUD!

He needed his mask again he needed to cover the antannae he needed to stifle them he needed he needed 

Why did he throw it away? Idiot Idiot Idiot! 

He needed he needed to find it.

Where?

There was too much (the oil) going on and Donnie couldn’t (the sulphur) think he couldn’t think (the disinfectant) all his thoughts were swirling with (his blood) you should have done betters and its too louds and (the ozone) and why was he so pathetic and why couldn’t be find (the coffee) his mask it had to be somewhere why couldn’t he-

Scissors

His eyes caught on the pair of scissors laying on his work table.

The buzzing from his shell invaded his mind as his thoughts blurred out of focus.

He blinked and the scissors were in his hand.

Static consumed his thoughts.

He gripped both antennae, bunching them together and pulling them taught like he was about to remove an unwanted weed.

Through the static he could feel the sharp pain on his scalp from where the antennae sprouted.

(It was on his head, he could feel it, neurons connecting these changes directly to his brain)

He brought up the scissors

He pressed his antennae between the two blades.

He didn’t like how he could feel the cold metal against his antennae.

He could do it.

It wouldn’t be that hard.

Just one snip.

Just one snip and this foreign sensation would be gone.

The neurones would be disconnected 

His fingers rearranged their grip on the scissors.

Just one snip.

Just one snip and his sensory hell would diminish.

He flexed his fingers again and-

Wait

What’s that?

Somewhere in the storm that was his senses, Donnie noticed something. 

What was that?

It gave him something to focus on. A small calm in a sea of sensory and mental hell.

(His grip on his antennae slackened)

The (oil sulphur disinfectant blood ozone coffee) were pushed to the side as Donnie tried to figure out what that smell was.

(His antennae twitched in his grip)

There was no true way to describe it, not in any words present in the English language that would do it justice.

But it was… nice.

It reminded Donnie of being content, of relief knowing that a heavy burden had been lifted.

And while Donnie wasn’t feeling anywhere near those emotions, his own mind a catastrophe of panic and dismay, the mere presence of these feelings at the edge of his psyche calmed the buzzing static plaguing him.

Where was that coming from? It felt… familiar.

Oh

Oh , 

It was Raph.

It was a little difficult to translate the smells he got from his antennae to what he would expect from his nose, but once he did it was unmistakable. 

That was his big brother. He must have just walked by his lab.

(His antennae twitched again)

His attention was brought back to the twin blades in his grasp.

What was he doing?

Donnie’s hands shook and he let go of both his antennae and scissors, which fell to the floor with a deft thud. And Donnie followed.

For the second time that day, Donnie ended up huddled on the floor. 

Unlike last time, however, Donnie’s eyes were sharp and his breathing clear. 

His mind was no longer overtaken by intrusive nor self deprecating thoughts. Instead he was solely focused on that one bit of information filtering through his antennae. His unwavering island of stability. Soaking in the safety, calmness and relief emanating from his brother.

It was like Raph’s many stinks, except in so much more detail. Like he had just put on glasses and for the first time saw clearly. It was like Donnie could sense what Raph was feeling. He could decipher his brother’s emotions with so much more accuracy now. 

There was nuance to it, the rise and fall of different concentrations of chemicals told the story of the emotions etched onto his brother’s soul.

And Donnie could understand it. Read it like a book or a graph.

Donnie could feel his antennae twitching, moving back and forth to follow the comforting scent of his oldest brother.

After Raph had moved out of reach and the scents had faded from his senses, Donnie got up from his place on the floor, eyes steely. 

The information was still overwhelming, but Donnie focused on the echoes of Raph just beyond the reach of his senses. 

The sense of safety lingered.

He was going to find some other way to hide these, without mutilating himself. He could hide under the mask. That had been working fine for him. But his shell, he needed to hide that better. His hoodie was not a reliable cover.

He would have to adjust one of his battle shells. Easy. He could do that. He made them specifically so that they were easily adjustable. 

Flexing his shell and his wings, he walked with purpose to the wall where he kept his battle shells. He picked one of the basic models, no extra attachments or anything, just a plain shell. Donnie wanted a quick and simple fix. 

After placing the battle shell on his workplace, he scanned his own shell, pulling his elytra in tight to get an accurate reading. 

He sat down in his chair - the back was still torn off, he needed to fix that- and readied his tools.

Time to get to work.

Chapter Text

Time to get to work.

It was comforting to work on one of his battle shells again. It was something Donnie knew well, a practiced routine.

He was able to loose himself in his work, able to focus only on the adjustments and block out everything else from his mind. His mask was back on his head, along with his goggles, blocking out the still slightly overwhelming nature of his antennae.

The constant deluge of information hadn’t been as bad as it had been hours before, but it was distracting, a constant reminder that things were different now. 

So he hid them away once more, embracing the normalcy of not having information sent to his brain from antennae attached to his skull.

Fixing his battle shell didn’t take too much time, before long he already had the shape changed to this new specs, the curve of the metal shell now matching the curve and slope of his new biological elytra. 

Donnie couldn’t find it within himself to stop however. He wanted to keep working. Keep this facade of normality he had found. 

What else could he do? What other adjustments could he make?

Donnie easily found more distractions, more things to add to his battle shell.

He added a soundproof layer.

(To prevent his brothers hearing any buzzing)

He added another layer of reinforcement.

(He didn’t know just how delicate his elytra was)

He added more storage space.

(For when he made more antivenom, so he could always have it on his person)

Eventually, there was nothing else Donnie could add. The battle shell was complete. 

Time to put it on.

Removing the battle shell from his desk, Donnie weighed it in his hands.

It wasn’t any heavier than any of his other battle shells, it was the same, if not lighter due to less heavy machinery being added, the entire shell being mostly made of titanium and other strong yet light polymers.

However. 

It felt… final. 

It felt much heavier in his hands than it should.

Like this was Donnie’s acceptance that this was unchangeable. That these mutations were here to stay. That by putting on this shell, by changing it to fit these differences, he was coming to the understanding that he would be like this forever. 

Unlike before, Donnie didn’t explode with this realization. The realization that he would have to change his routine to accommodate these mutations, instead a sad calm settled over him. He wasn’t sure how to describe this feeling. Melancholy? Yes, that seemed right, it was melancholic.

Like the feeling where you finish a book and know you can never experience reading it for the first time again. That looking back at what had been, if you re-read the book, you will always know what will come next. How it will finish. How the protagonist will end up.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Donnie shrugged the battle shell over his shoulder. It settled onto his back with a hiss as it clicked into place. 

Donnie sighed contently, expecting to feel the pleasant pressure of the battle shell on his own shell. Like a weighted blanket settled over his shoulders. But he frowned as the feeling did not come. 

Yes, the battle shell fit perfectly onto his back, but there was no comforting feeling like a puzzle piece fitting succinctly into place. Maybe it had shifted to the side somewhat? Maybe settled in a way that wasn’t completely right ?

Reaching behind himself, Donnie fiddled with the battle shell, pushing it to and fro to try and bring forth that comforting feeling he expected. He even took it off and put it back on again, yet it still felt uncomfortable . Perhaps there was a flaw in his adjustments?

His elytra pressed against the battle shell.

Oh, this wasn’t a flaw. 

Donnie’s face grew damp.

Yet again, the mutation had taken something from him. 

He couldn’t even wear his battle shells without some discomfort anymore. His battle shells had been something of a security blanket to Donnie for years. He relied on them. Especially after the invasion. And now it just wasn’t the same, his shell itched, flexing under the once comforting weight, trying to push it off of him. But to no avail, the battle shell was locked on tight. It was perfectly made after all.

Ugh, he was being pathetic.

So what if it was uncomfortable? It wasn’t like he could just parade about without it. Sure, he could wear his hoodie, but during patrols? During missions? Out of the question. 

Firstly; a hoodie is not the best to fight in and way too susceptible to tearing, and secondly; switching to only wearing a hoodie and forgoing his battle shell would no doubt gain his brother’s attention and concern. Which he didn’t need. Because Donnie was fine.

He had to move on now. Move past the discomfort of his shell and how it twisted and shifted in denial.

There was no point moping over it.

Time to do what he said he was going up here to do. Make sure that Leo was on the path to recovery.

That should have been the first thing he did.

Donnie sighed, slumping back into his chair (which still didn’t have a back, he really should fix that soon) and resigned himself to work through the data gained from Leo by the many medical machines.

He was much less looking forward to going through this. It would be full of constant reminders of what he had done.

See that high concentration of cell debris? That low blood pressure? That low concentration of red blood cells? He’s responsible for all of that.

He did it though, he analysed all of it, and came to the steadfast conclusion; Leo would be okay. He would make a full recovery.

His immune system still needed to fight off what was left of the venom, but it was a null point, there was barely any left to do any real harm. He guessed he had Draxum to thank for giving them such powerful immune systems. If Leo had been human and Donnie had bit him directly, he would only have had half an hour for Donnie to administer the antivenom before the effects of the venom would be permanent, and only an hour or two before the venom was fatal. 

Leo could probably leave the sick bay by this afternoon if he wanted to (and based on Leo’s past actions, he might already be trying to leave right now) as long as he did not overexert himself.  

Donnie would have to tell Raph to keep an eye on Leo, it was always a toss up to whether he would take his sickness as an opportunity to be coddled, or would pretend like nothing was wrong and worsen his condition further. Raph could make sure that Leo did not go down the second path and actually took care of himself. Donnie would do it himself, but… he just didn’t feel like it right now.

However, no matter what Leo did, short of ingesting more of Donnie’s venom, he would make a full recovery.

(Donnie was making more antivenom doses, just in case)

It was a nice thought. Donnie guessed. 

That Leo would be alright. 

Well, it was more than nice! 

Leo would be alright! 

But… that didn’t excuse the fact that Donnie was the one to put him in such a situation. 

Donnie felt like these exact thoughts had been circulating through his mind on loop ever since he had synthesised the antivenom in the first place. 

Leo was sick. Donnie cured that sickness. He couldn’t feel proud of that accomplishment, because, oh yeah, he had caused that very sickness.

There was no point in pondering, no point in lingering on this train of thought. Not when it will alway lead him to the same place. That this was his own fault. Donnie should just move on. It was a fact.

It didn’t matter anyway. At the end of the day, only one thing did. That Leo would be okay.

Stretching his legs, Donnie got up from his position hunched over his keyboard. How long had he been there for? Hours, from the way his knees ached. 

His back itched as well, now that he was actively thinking about it, he could feel his shell writhe and shift like a rapid animal under the metal coverings. Pushing at the battle shell like it could be dislodged. Distantly, Donnie could feel the vibrations of his wings buzzing, or attempting to buzz under the heavy lock of the battle shell, but he could not hear a sound. 

Donnie smiled to himself, it was the small mercies. He may be uncomfortable with wearing his battle shell (and wasn’t that a weird concept? To not want to wear a battle shell) but at least no one could hear the frantic beating of wings coming from where his soft-shell should be. 

Still, Donnie fidgeted with his battle shell, reaching over his shoulder to jostle it back and forth, as if it would relieve some of the discomfort plaguing him. 

Before leaving his lab, Donnie gave himself one final once-over in his mirror, checking that he looked completely, one hundred percent turtle. He turned around, looking at where the artificial shell lay over his insectoid one. Perfectly normal. There was no indication that under this battle shell lay a pair of elytra. His brothers wouldn’t suspect a thing. Next, Donnie checked his mask, making sure his antennae were truly hidden under the purple fabric. That not even the tips were exposed to the elements. Now the only thing he could sense (smell? He still hadn’t figured out the exact wording) from his antennae was the comforting smell of his mask, which was doused in the thick scent of oil. He backed up, taking in his entire appearance.

Perfect.

He looked completely normal. Perfect.

Not bearing to look at himself for any longer, Donnie turned on his heel and strode out of his lab. Making his way back to the sickbay, he rehearsed what he was going to say in his head.

As he walked into the sickbay, he took stock of what was going on. Leo was on his phone and seemed to be texting someone, a dopey grin on his face. He must be feeling better then. Raph was exercising with some dumbbells while watching Mikey sketch on a notepad, Mikey’s tongue was poking out of his mouth as he had a look of intense concentration on his face.

They all looked up as Donnie walked in, Leo putting his phone face down after sending off one last hurried text.

“So Doctor Don? What’s your verdict?” He asked.

“Well, to put it into simpler terms, you will make a full recovery from m- the venom, you can probably leave sickbay by tomorrow”

At his announcement he saw the faces of his brothers light up, happy at the news.

“Whooo!” Mikey cheered, once again jumping onto Leo (with much less care now that he knew his brother was going to be okay) and wrapping around him. Raph followed, scooping both of them up in his arms, lifting them from the bed into an all-encompassing hug, nuzzling both of them. 

Leo then looked up from his place squished against Raph’s plastron at Donnie. 

“Come on Donnie, get in here!” He insisted, reaching an arm out to Donnie, inviting him into the hug.

Could he?

Donnie had been avoiding any contact with his brothers for a while now. He couldn’t risk them noticing the changes to his shell after all. But now? With his shell covered? Could he?

Donnie really wanted, no, needed a hug.

Attempting to seem nonchalant, he walked into the embrace, allowing Raph’s arm to envelope him. 

What was he supposed to do with his arms?

They hung there limp as Donnie let himself melt into the embrace. He could feel the pressure of Raph’s arm on his battle shell, holding him in place. Donnie sighed as he reveled in the closeness of his family. The constant shifting of his elytra under his battle shell slowed and came to a halt as his whole body relaxed for the first time in days.

He had been isolating himself for so long and it was a beautiful release to just allow himself to be with them, to feel the warmth of their scales on his (he was so glad he still had scales). 

Donnie pushed the emotional weight of the past few days to the back of his mind. He didn’t have to worry about that right now. He could just be here.

Donnie closed his eyes.

He could stay here for a little while.

Chapter Text

It was quite hypocritical of him.

When Donnie was apart from the group, self isolating and not allowing himself to be included in the hug, he wanted it to end as soon as possible. 

…Because he wanted to get on with examining Leo, not for any other reason.

But now? Now he was included in said hug? Donnie didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay here, where he could imagine that his brothers already knew about his mutation and were miraculously okay with it and didn’t mind what he had become. 

Unfortunately, eventually the hug had to end. It started with Leo shifting uncomfortably, squirming out of Raph’s hold and it all dissolved from there, like a chain reaction. Raph went to put Leo down and in doing so Mikey was forced to untangle himself from his brothers, and during that Raph’s arm moved, releasing Donnie from his grip, forcing Donnie to take a step back as Mikey jumped down from his place in between Raph and Leo onto the flood right in front of Donnie. 

Raph gently placed Leo on the bed again, trying to get him to lay down. Leo clearly wasn’t having it however, and sat up, his legs half dangling over the edge of the bed.

Mikey was quick to sit beside his older brother, shoulder to shoulder. Raph was much less subtle about his worrying, as he remained standing over Leo, hovering, as if he was worried Leo would tip and fall off the bed.

Donnie however, took a step back, collapsing into the seat behind him. It felt too awkward to just remain standing like Raph was doing. 

Raph opened his mouth, “So-”

“If you’re gonna ask me how I’m feeling again I’m gonna riot.” Leo deadpanned.

Raph’s mouth closed with a snap, he didn’t finish his sentence.

Mikey chimed in, “We never got to ask, ‘cause you passed out, but how did you get bit anyway? And why didn’t you tell us?” 

Leo hummed, “I dunno actually, I don’t remember being bitten by any beetle, mutated or not.” He let out a dry chuckle, “You’d think that’s something I would remember”

Raph’s face twisted like he just had an epiphany, he snapped his fingers, “What if, the poison the beetle had also wiped your memory, and that’s why you don’t remember!”

Leo considered it, “I mean, a mutated beetle who’s poison prevents you from remembering that you got bit in the first place does sound a little crazy. More than a little crazy. But, like, if you think about everything we’ve seen, it’s absolutely plausible.”

Donnie’s eye twitched. There was no way

“Wait, how do we know that it was a mutant beetle?” Mikey asked. They all turned to Donnie, expecting him to either prove or disprove this hypothesis. 

Ah, right. This was when he would usually join the conversation.

“Well, the venom itself was a mutated version of cantharidin, so it stands to reason that the beetle itself is mutated as well.” That was good, nice and detached. It was just cold hard facts, technically he wasn’t lying , he was just not telling the full truth. They would never guess that Donnie knew exactly what had happened. 

That yes he was a mutant, and yes he was somewhat a beetle (something he still had to wrap his head around) but no he definitely did not have mind erasing abilities (he hoped, honestly Donnie didn’t think he could take another surprise power).

“Oh, okay” Mikey nodded along, not questioning Donnie’s statement at all, having complete faith in his brother. 

Raph punched his palm, a determined look on his face, “So! New plan, we look around where Leo went yesterday, find this beetle mutant… and beat them up!”

“And if we go as a group, they’re less likely to get the drop on us if we’re all together,” Leo added, Raph nodded in agreement. 

Donnie nodded in tandem with his brother, a little unbelieving of this situation. Yes… they could go on a mission… to find this mutant beetle… that doesn’t exist… and beat them up. Yep.

Hopefully, Donnie could rely on his brother’s short attention spans. If they continued to not be able to locate the nonexistent beetle mutant (him), they would eventually give up.

He just had to pretend like he didn’t know exactly where the beetle they were looking for was. Which means more lying. He should be an expert by now.

“So where did you even go? While you were sneaking out and breaking one of our most sacred rules: the buddy system?” Mikey asked, poking Leo in his plastron. Leo hissed at him in response and pushed him away, snickering when he caused Mikey to fall backwards onto the bed. Leo thought deeply on what Mikey had asked.

“I dunno, I was mostly just wandering around, but I know the gist of where I went. It’s mostly subconscious, I follow the same route a lot of the time”

“Great! We’ll just follow you then-”

“Wait.” Mikey chimed in, “How often have you been going out alone again?” He slowly rose from his place lying on the bed to look Leo dead in the eyes, with a chilling glare. 

Leo spluttered, desperately denying Mikey’s prying questions. Mikey’s eyes narrowed further.

Raph saw the incoming Mikey rant, and quickly tried to divert the conversation, “So! Leo, we’ll find this beetle and avenge you!”

“I’m not dead, I don’t need avenging.” Leo rolled his eyes, smirking. 

“We’ll all go together once you’re feelin’ better,” Raph said, ignoring Leo’s comment. 

Leo’s eyes widened, “Well we don’t want them to get away, let’s go now! I’m feeling great!” He jumped off of the bed, and almost immediately his legs crumpled beneath him, his bad leg giving out on him. 

He almost ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor, but as soon as he started to fall, Donnie had immediately moved out of his seat and grabbed his brother, wrapping his arms around him. 

Leo’s own arms automatically moved around Donnie’s back and grabbed onto his battle shell for support. 

——

(art)

Leo threw his head back and groaned, “Nooo, I swear that was a fluke, I am totally fine I swear. Donnie, Donnie you can let go.” 

Leo did not attempt to squirm out of Donnie’s grip.

Pretending like he was having no reaction whatsoever to Leo’s hands on his battle shell. Pretending that his elytra were not shifting like crazy at all underneath the metal covering. Donnie continued to hold onto his brother, propping him upright. “No, you’re exhausted, you’re just going to fall down again. And I refuse to have to babysit a concussed Leo again”

“That was one time,” Leo grumbled as Donnie set him back down on the bed. No one noticed when it took two attempts to remove his fingers from Leo’s shell.

“Thank you Donnie” Raph said, as Donnie sat back down on the edge of his seat, his muscles tensed.

Mikey stood up as Leo was forced by Raph to lie down properly on the bed again. “You must be starving Leo! I’ll go make some breakfast… lunch? Dinner? What time even is it?” He half laughed “I’ll make some soup! That’s good sick people food right?” He questioned, not looking for an answer as he had left the room a second later.

At the mention of food, both Leo and Raph’s stomachs growled loudly. They looked at each other. Raph grinned, “While you wait for Mikey, I’m gonna make myself a sandwich,” He pointed at Donnie, “Make sure that he stays there. I’ll be back”

Donnie didn’t want to be left alone with Leo, but he couldn’t just refuse. What could he say?

Oh yeah, I’m not gonna do that cause I really don’t want to be alone with Leo. You want to know why? Why of course! You know that mutant beetle you want to beat up? That’s me.  

He couldn’t say that! Not in a million years.

So he found himself nodding silently as Raph strode out the room.

Donnie desperately wanted to avoid a conversation with his brother. 

What to do…

His phone!

Everyone knew that a phone was the perfect discouragement for social interaction.

Succinctly avoiding his brother’s gaze, Donnie smoothly brought out his phone. 

He stared at his home screen. He had to do something, not just stare blankly at it. He opened random apps, flicking between them, not settling on any. Maybe he could continue to cyberbully Stockboy or something. 

Donnie ignored the pressure of Leo’s gaze on him.

On the other side of the room, Leo opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He didn’t know exactly what to say to start a conversation. Something was clearly wrong with Donnie. He hadn’t even made fun of Leo for (apparently) getting bitten by some mutant beetle. Instead he had been messing on his phone for ages, but he never turned to Leo to show him some article about some science thing that he could barely comprehend, nor did he complain about people’s stupidity on social media. It was weird . And Leo didn’t know what to do.

Leo eventually gave up on starting a dialogue between him and Donnie. It had just been too long since Raph left, it would be too awkward to start talking now.

Leo instead pulled out his own phone, smiling as he saw the ‘get well soon’ messages from Usagi. Gosh, it really was so annoying that immediately after he started texting him he got sick! Now Usagi is probably gonna think he has a weak immune system or something. It was a terrible first impression! (Ha first, as if Leo hadn’t been trying to get his phone number for weeks and had definitely made a fool of himself before now)

So they sat there in silence, both on their phones. Acting like the atmosphere between them was completely normal and not at all suffocating.

Eventually, Mikey crashed back into the sickbay, precariously balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on it. “Foods ready!!” He placed the tray on Leo’s lap, “I made butternut squash soup!”

The lovely smell from Mikey’s soup wafted over to Donnie. He experienced both the sensation of smell through his nostrils and also through the dull echo of his antennae. His mouth watered. When was the last time he ate? 

His own stomach had long since given up rumbling and he had been stubbornly ignoring the hunger pains for a while, but now that food was in front of him, Donnie was forced to confront just how hungry he was.

Now that Mikey was here to look after Leo, surely he could leave like Raph did and go get some food? He cast a side eye at his brothers to see Leo ravenously devouring the soup. Mikey had brought him a serving spoon, predicting and supporting the insane rate at which Leo was inhaling the soup. Mikey had a slightly nervous look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure his food wouldn’t poison Leo again, because even though that theory had been debunked, the insecurity lived on. 

Donnie slapped his knees before getting up (he had seen people do this in many TV shows, deduced that it meant that someone was about to leave, and had quickly absorbed it into his list of non-verbal communications) “that looks delicious Mikey, is there any left?” While he wasn’t the biggest fan of butternut squash soup, he would eat almost anything at this point (except mashed potatoes, pity the fool who tried to get him to eat mashed potatoes).

Mikey absentmindedly responded, “Oh, yeah, I made like an entire pot-” Leo halted his furious slurping to shout “DIBS! Dibs on all of it!” He returned to his soup, muttering “I am so hungry right now, I swear I don’t care if I-” 

Donnie rolled his eyes, “Fine, I’ll make something else, just slow down,” his eyes softened, “You’re going to make yourself sick again at that rate. And I am not cleaning that up” 

Donnie left the sickbay to the sounds of Mikey trying to get Leo to slow down, now that he had realised that Leo was at risk of throwing up again.

Stepping out of the sickbay, Donnie realised just how heavy the atmosphere had been in the room, and he deeply exhaled. 

He walked over to the kitchen, he could see the pot of soup Mikey had talked about. It really did smell amazing. 

But no, even if it was highly unlikely that Leo would be able to finish the entire pot, Leo had dibsed it. And even if it was just not eating the soup, he felt like he owed it to Leo. Because in a roundabout way he had been the cause of Leo’s hunger.

So Donnie turned away and headed to the fridge. Maybe he could make a sandwich or something.

As he turned, he suddenly noticed Raph, sitting on an island in the middle of the kitchen with his own sandwich. 

“Hey Donnie,”

“Oh, salutations Raph” yuk, more interaction?

“Here, I knew you were gonna be hungry, so I made you a sandwich.” Raph gestured to an extra plate next to him. He pushed it over to Donnie’s usual seat. 

Never mind, Raph was his favorite.

An unidentified emotion welled up in Donnie’s throat. 

He sat down, hunching over the sandwich, and he took a bite. Wow, that was good.

It seems Raph had no trouble starting a conversation however. “So Don, how ‘ave you been holdin’ up? You know, with Leo bein’ bit by some beetle thing?” He asked, chewing on a mouthful of his sandwich. 

Donnie could feel his shell shift in discomfort. Whether it was because of the subject of the ‘beetle thing’ being brought up again, or Raph’s earnest concern for him, or the fact that he was now actively thinking about his shell and ew ew his battle shell really was uncomfortable now oh he hated this , he didn’t know. 

So Donnie decided to deflect, “Well, science told me that he’s going to be alright, and there is nothing I trust more than science, so I’m doing just fine now” he said, like his shell wasn’t trying to shove his battle shell off of himself. 

He took another large bite of his sandwich.

Raph gave him a lopsided grin. 

There was a cabbage leaf stuck between his teeth. 

“That’s good, cause I figured, you know, that you were doing most of the science-y stuff right, and that must’ve been hard. There wasn’t much Raph could do. Don’t think Raph can punch a, uh, bacteria? Is that what it’s called?” Raph hummed, thinking, and then gasped, “What if we found a way to, like, shrink ourselves down, then we could have punched the sickness away!” Raph mimed his ideas, bringing his finger and thumb close together to show just how small they would get, then punching the air enthusiastically.

There was nothing that cheered Donnie up more than correcting his brothers. 

“Actually, while I applaud you for knowing the word bacteria, your use of it was incorrect. What was hurting Leo was in fact a venom, which is not alive. Cantharidin is an organic molecule with the chemical formula: C10H12O4. And anyway, even if you did figure out how to shrink yourself down you would have to punch millions of venom molecules. Which is impossible. And that’s not even considering the distance between molecules you would have to travel relative to your shrunken size and-”

Donnie continued info-dumping on the science behind Raph’s idea and how it was completely impossible, then he moved on to info-dumping on how a shrink-ray would hypothetically work. Raph’s eyes glazed over as his words got even bigger and more scientific, and he was very quickly lost. 

But Raph smiled as the morose look on Donnie’s face was replaced by the excited one he always got while talking about science. Donnie’s eyes lit with passion for his craft as he gesticulated wildly, half eaten sandwich in hand. 

And even though he understood none of it, Raph stayed with Donnie throughout his entire impromptu lecture, content to just listen to Donnie talk.

——

(art)

Chapter Text

The next few days passed in a blur. 

Leo slowly recovered until he was back to his old self again, bouncing around the lair. He had been put under strict house arrest, and everyone had been keeping a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t break it. 

Leo complained a lot, saying that the beetle mutant may be long gone by the time they get out, but no one was budging. Not wanting to risk Leo overexerting himself.

For Donnie, the next few days were weird. Even though his battle shell itched and his elytra squirmed , he refrained from taking it off at every possible moment. After all, it was a steadfast way of making sure that none of his brothers could hear the now almost constant buzzing or see his elytra open like a hinge away from his back in a way that was certainly not natural.

But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just wear the battle shell 24/7, he had already attempted to do so after the invasion and quickly found out why it was such a bad idea. 

So Donnie had to make some compromises, and took off the battle shell only to sleep or to clean himself (turns out his wings were not all that waterproof, he had to sit for a painstaking hour with his elytra stretched outward and his wings splayed out waiting for them to dry, hoping that his brothers didn’t become curious to why Donnie was hogging the bathroom) Donnie quickly learned that his elytra needed to be closed and water-tight if he wanted to take a shower)

His mask too, also saw a lot more wear than it usually did, now that he was wearing it all the time. Luckily he had many copies of the same exact mask that he was able to cycle through.

Donnie had thrown himself into his work in those few days, tinkering with the turtle tank and finally fixing the back of his chair. He also adjusted all his other battle shells to fit his new mutated form, and no, the irony was not lost on him while he was adjusting his jet pack battle shell. 

Also during this time, Donnie had found himself extremely grateful for the little parts of his routine that stayed the same, and weren’t affected by his mutation. As sometimes it seemed that his entire life had been flipped on its head. He still slept on his plastron, he could still drink coffee, he could still see the visible spectrum of light. The little constants stood out to him, and made him reflect on how grateful he was that the mutation did not progress further. He did not have mandibles, he did not have compound eyes, he did not have another pair of limbs.

And while his sleep schedule was still far from healthy, getting more than one night of uninterrupted sleep did wonders for him, allowing his head to clear and giving him more control over his emotional state.

Sometimes he could even pretend nothing had happened and he could joke around with his brothers like he normally did.

Eventually, Raph deemed Leo healthy enough to go out. (He had technically been fine for a while, according to Donnie, but Raph was nothing but a mother hen) And Leo had been quick to gather everyone together to go and find the mutant that had bit him.

Donnie felt conflicted about this. 

He had had a while to think about this whole situation, on one hand, his brothers had never been further away from finding out his little secret, but on the other, he didn’t have high hopes for their cumulative IQ. 

Was this really what happens when he stops contributing and counteracting their more… outlandish ideas with logic and science? It was a little bit of an ego boost.

But it wasn’t like he could say anything or dispute their claims, and his brothers probably thought their theory was so plausible because Donnie had yet to contradict them and suggest a better hypothesis. So they weren’t totally hopeless.

Donnie got ready to leave with his brothers and April, who decided to come along with the group. They ended up not taking the turtle tank (unfortunate that Donnie didn’t get to show off his many anxiety-fuelled upgrades he had made) as they were mostly going to travel through back alleys and onto roofs if what Leo was saying was any indication.

Raph continued to mother hen Leo, offering to carry him multiple times, and outright refusing some of the more risky paths and parkour routes that they would usually take.

While Donnie would normally be flying above his brothers using his jet pack battle shell, this time he still wore the basic model. 

It felt strange, too strange, to wear his jet-pack battle shell. He had tried it out as a test-run after readjusting it like the rest of his battle shells, but the mechanical shifting of the jets extending from the battle shell was just too similar to the feeling he got when his (his his his) elytra opened, and the inorganic buzz that followed was an uncanny mockery of what was now a constant presence against his back.

Throughout the entire experience of him using the jet-pack battle shell to lift his feet from the ground and take flight like he had done so many times before, Donnie kept thinking to himself ‘you don’t need this’, ‘this is inefficient’, ‘you could fly so much faster, with so much more agility if you just took it off and used your own wings’ , and he could feel his own elytra, the ones made of chitin, move almost in protest against his back as the shell pulled on them, lifting his body into the air without the help of his wings.

It felt unnatural. Which was wrong. It shouldn’t have felt unnatural. This was perfectly normal, Donnie couldn’t count how many times he had flown with his battle shell! 

He still remembered his first iteration, a mish-mash of scraps and rotors stolen from drones bought by rich parents to spoiled kids. It had lifted him one foot off the ground before malfunctioning and sending careening back to the floor. April had laughed at him.

Donnie sighed, the cool metal of his regular, boring , battle shell resting against his back. He brought his focus back to what was going on around him, he and his brothers had been patrolling this area for what seemed like hours, not able to find anything. Sure, they also prevented a few petty crimes, but they could not find any clue about the mutant they were trying to locate.

Donnie was bored out of his mind. There were so many things he’d rather be doing right now. Also, it didn’t help that Donnie knew exactly where the mutant they were looking for was. Right next to them. ‘Cause he was the mutant in question. Don’t let that be forgotten. It almost made him want to laugh.

Evidently his brothers were also getting a little bored as well. While Donnie knew that the mission was doomed to fail, his brothers had a lot more determination due to their ignorance, but even still, hours of not being able to find any trace of this mutant (because they didn’t exist) would dampen anyone’s enthusiasm.

It started with Mikey making subtle mentions of just how hungry he was (he was not at all subtle), then Raph stopped taking so long to inspect every nook and cranny for the elusive mutant, and April stopped interrogating random passers by on whether or not they had seen any strange occurrences . 

Eventually Leo started dragging his feet while he listened to the increasing volume of Mikey’s complaining. 

“I’m so hungry! Can we stop by Run Of The Mill and get some pizza before we go home, by the way, when are we going home . Because did I mention that I am very hungry, like starving. We’ve been everywhere! We can’t find anything!” He whined from his place sprawled on Raph’s shell. It spoke to just how tired Raph was that he didn’t chastise Mikey, and was almost nodding along. April had to go home an hour earlier, to at least get some hours of sleep before school started the next morning.

And it was true, all of them were hungry. They had barely had anything to eat before Leo had rushed them out of the house.

“No, we can’t give up now, we can make one more round, just to double- er quadruple check”

“I must concur with Mikey, most mutants grow in size upon mutation, and so it is highly unlikely that we would have missed a mutant of such size” Donnie added. Again, he wasn’t lying , per say, just withholding information. And to be fair, he was very hungry.

“You know what? Fine. Let’s go to Hueso’s” Leo leaned back, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

—

Ugh, nothing was going right. They had been searching for hours and couldn’t find any trace of the mutant that bit him. 

Though, it was hard to remain upset while basking in the warm atmosphere in Tio Hueso’s restaurant. It was by far the best place the hidden city had to offer (even though it wasn’t technically part of the hidden city, it was still hidden by mystic so… it counted). 

They ran through the usual routine, inspecting the menu and debating what they were going to get. Even though they always got pizza every time, the tough question was which pizza to get. Pepperoni? Hawaiian? Some basic cheese? Or maybe something more adventurous like some of the more mystic options? Leo didn’t need to look through the menu, as he already had everything mostly memorised, it was just nice to look at the neat cursive writing and try to discern the strange symbols written next to the English, which were clearly the hidden city’s own writing system. Leo had yet to figure it out.

Mikey seemed to be settling on trying some of the more mystic options. Stating that he wanted to ‘expand his pallet’, by trying some ingredients he couldn’t find anywhere else in New York. Raph eventually decided on the old reliable pepperoni pizza, and Leo decided to follow his lead, he did not want to ingest anything that he wasn’t familiar with right now.

Leo looked to Donnie, who was tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. He had been quiet all night, barely a sarcastic quip in sight. Something was up, and Leo had no clue what.

“I’m probably going to get the pizza ortolana? The one with the bell peppers and artichoke.”

-wait a second. Donnie never got veggie pizza. He was always more of a carnivore, probably due to his spiny soft shell nature. Always preferring more meaty pizzas than anything else. 

Leo opened his mouth to question Donnie about his sudden change in pizza preference when a flash of white fur caught his eye. 

Usagi?

A bunny eared figure was walking towards their table.

Ohmigosh it’s Usagi ! 

——

(art)

Leo immediately forgot what he had been thinking about while his eyes trained on the waiter walking towards him. Gosh that uniform fit him so well.

Shoot! How did he look? How’s his hair - wait he didn’t have hair. He fiddled with his mask tails as his eyes met Usagi’s. Was he looking for too long? Should he look away? What did he usually do with his hands? He should stop fiddling with his mask tails, that was too obvious. He had to be cool. Time slowed, it felt like it had been an age since their eyes locked.

Was he close enough for Leo to say something?

Eh, screw it. Leo really wanted to talk to Usagi again.

“Hey ‘sagi! How are you?”

Usagi smiled (ahhh Leo made him smile!)

“Hello Leo, I feel like I should be asking you that. Are you feeling better?”

Aw, he was concerned for him. That’s so sweet! He’s so nice, and pretty, and just the best, most amazing person. Leo drifted off in his own head, spacing out as he gazed into Usagi’s eyes.

Leo yelped as Mikey jammed his elbow into his side, oh yeah, Usagi asked him something.

“OH YEAH!” Shoot too loud , “…oh yeah” much better “I’m feeling much better now, no more throwing up” why why why did he mention that? Usagi didn’t need to know that! 

“I mean, I’m right as rain now, now that you’re here” he winked. He was so smooth. Such a good recovery.

And Usagi giggled! It sounded like soft bells against his tympanum, Leo swore that it was the best sound he had ever heard.

(Leo was too awestruck to see his brothers sigh in shame, and Mikey mutter ‘simp’ under his breath)

“You’re very funny Leo,” did you hear that? Leo was funny, “so what can I get you guys?”

Leo wasn’t paying attention as his brothers made their orders, his head rested on his palm as he watched Usagi. He was just so pretty.

“So Leo, what do you want?”

Hm? Oh right. “Just some pepperoni pizza please” 

“Okay, I’ll get right on that for all of you,” Usagi smiled. And Leo swore that the entire restaurant just lit up.

Their eye contact lingered as Usagi turned to leave towards the kitchen. Did that mean anything? Was Usagi trying to tell him something? Did he like him back? What did this mean?

Leo was brought back to reality by the snickering of his family.

“That was painful to watch.”

“Oh shut up Donnie”

——

(Also Bonus art)

Also: transcript for if you can’t read my handwriting:

Usagi: Listen I know that it’s not my zone, but please can I serve that table I swear I’ll make it up to you, please!

Ant waitress (thinking): I know what you are 

Chapter Text

“Well that was a total bust” Leo complained over a mouthful of pizza. “We didn’t find anything at all!”

Raph patted Leo’s shoulder, after the pizzas arrived (and Leo was once again struck dumb by Usagi’s presence) Leo had spent the entire time moaning over their failed mission.

“Hey, We’ll totally find them again. They can’t hide for long.”

“If we had just left earlier, Like I wanted to , we would have been able to find them!” Leo shrugged off Raph’s hand, shooting him a short glare. Raph put his hands up as if in surrender, “Don’t blame me! We didn’t want you to get sick again!”

“I was going to be fine, I had the antivenom! I’m the medic, I know this!”

“Well forgive us for being concerned! You were throwing up blood!” Mikey added, nodding along with Raph. 

Donnie put his pizza sliced down. He had lost his appetite. 

Leo rolled his eyes, “I got better, all thanks to Donnie.” He chirruped, playing to his brother’s ego, “Right Don? I would have totally been okay to leave a little earlier.”

Donnie snapped back to attention as Leo called his name, “Oh yeah, it was all thanks to my marvelous intellect that I was able to produce an anti-venom. …But I agree with Raph, your immune system still had to recover from the venom”

“Ugh, so is everyone against me?”

“We’re not against you Leo!” Mikey exclaimed, “We’re just worried, I thought you were gonna die!”

Rolling his eyes again Leo waved his slice of pizza around, “Chill Mikey, that poison wasn’t enough to end this turtle! Cantharidin isn’t deadly anyway, I looked it up.”

Donnie suddenly sucked air through his lips with a low hiss as he found himself taking great interest in the fabric of the tablecloth. 

“What is it Donnie?” Leo deadpanned, clocking his brother’s discomfort instantly, knowing that he was hiding something from the group. 

Donnie pursed his lips, fighting the urge to start whistling inconspicuously.

He had gained the attention of the entire table as they were all looking at him with concern.

Donnie tapped his fingers together, a nervous smile on his face, “so… I forgot to mention… that because the cantharidin was mutated… it did in fact become deadly. Yes.” He said, pausing often as if wishing for someone to interrupt him and stop the words from falling out of his mouth. He didn’t want them to know this. Call it selfish, but, even if they didn’t know he was the one to cause Leo’s sickness, he didn’t want them to associate the venom with the narrowly avoided death of their brother. 

Leo stopped waving his pizza around as his whole body came to a halt.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Donnie laughed without humor, his eyes still trained on the table cloth. “Well, uh, it never came up?” He winced.

“You’re saying that the mutant running around has poison that can just outright kill people! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? What if someone else had gotten bit?”

That wouldn’t have happened. It was impossible.

“Well I’m sorry for trying to spare your feelings!”

“By lying to me?!”

“I wasn’t lying! I was just not disclosing some information!”

“That’s just as bad!”

“…”

——

(Art)

The tempo of the argument fell short as Donnie fell silent, his eyes widening as Leo’s words hit an open wound. Because wasn’t that just it? That is what he was doing after all, not telling them about his second mutation. He was a terrible person. He had hidden this for so long. He had been more worried about his position than his own brother’s health. 

Didn’t this just show what would happen if his brothers found out now? What Donnie was hiding under his battle shell was worse by a factor of ten! 

Under the table, out of his brother’s sight he wrung his hands together, his fingers catching on the fabric of his gloves as his hands became tangled together as the tactile spines latched onto any available surface.

Leo sighed at Donnie’s sudden silence. Losing all momentum for the argument as Donnie failed to bite back, leaving the table stewing in silence. 

“Just… just tell me how long it would have taken.” He said, at a much lower volume than he had been using previously. 

Donnie inhaled slowly, tearing his eyes away from the tablecloth to look at a space somewhere just above Leo’s shoulder. He could see the guarded look in his eyes from the corner of his perception.

“I’m not… sure. Biochemistry isn’t my favorite and can be way too unpredictable, and the venom was mutated so that messed with my calculations. But… It would have taken a few days. Maybe less.” 

Mikey choked, as Donnie’s brothers internalized this new information. If Donnie hadn’t been able to produce an anti-venom in time then Leo would have died. He wouldn’t be there eating pizza with them, they wouldn’t be able to laugh at his pathetic attempts to flirt with Usagi, they wouldn’t be able to moan over his horrible puns. They would instead be mourning him. 

Raph sniffed loudly.

Donnie noticed his brother’s suddenly sour moods as the atmosphere at the table shifted dramatically.

“See! This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

At Donnie’s words Leo shook himself off, putting off contemplating his own mortality for another time.

“Guys it’s fine! We’ve almost died like so many times , what one more am I right?” He joked. 

“Leo! That’s not funny!” Mikey pouted. 

“Eh” Leo waved him off, “…Anyway, now we really gotta catch this guy”

“So we’re just going to move on then?” Mikey deadpanned. Leo ignored him, pressing his head down into his shell. 

“Fine, I see how it is” came as an echo from within the shell. No doubt he was already planning the next appearance of Dr. Feelings.

“Since we couldn’t find them on patrol, they probably moved to the hidden city somehow.” Leo explained, “and because they bit me, they probably are more likely to attack and bite mutants and yokai.”

From his seat at the other side of the table, Donnie squinted as his twin made conclusions using only one data point (One! That’s worse than using two! Scoff! ). He had to bite his tongue to stop himself making his displeasure known, they would ask him if he had any alternative ideas, and then Donnie would have to lie again . And it was already well demonstrated just how bad he was at that. 

Yet another piece of information he didn’t disclose to his family.

“Well we can’t exactly search all of the hidden city! We don’t even know what they look like! Aside from, you know, the bug thing. But there are a lot of buggy-lookin yoki in the hidden city.” Raph added. 

Leo hummed, “So we’ll just have to cure people as they get bitten”

Like that was going to happen at all

“Donnie, do you have any more of that antivenom you gave me?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I have a few doses”

The synthesiser Donnie had used to make the antivenom had only been able to produce a few samples of the antivenom, but in the days following Leo being administered the cure Donatello had been slowly making more and more. The process was taxing and he may be a little anemic now, but he was planning on making a source of the antivenom that didn’t rely on using his own blood. He already identified the DNA sequence required to produce the antibodies required in the antivenom and was now figuring out how to isolate and transfer the genetic material into a vector and into a bacteria colony. It was a work in progress.

“Great! We just need to make sure that people can get them.”

“How do we do that?” Mikey asked, having popped back out of his shell.

“Well who do we know in the hidden city who’s well connected and can distribute an antivenom?”

Donnie’s eyes widened in realisation. “No.”

——

“Well if it isn’t my turtleyboos” Big Mama cooed.

Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but it had steadily been improving since the invasion. While it was clear that Big Mama was still up to some… less than moral deeds, her demeanor concerning the turtles had gotten much better. Possibly because she and Splinter were meeting up again, but Donnie preferred to not dwell on what that could entail.

Although she was currently in her human form, she still cut an imposing figure, you could tell that behind those calculating eyes lay something powerful. No matter just how the nonsense words she used made you think otherwise. 

But unlike the first year of knowing her, now within those calculating eyes lay warmth. She had taken a genuine liking to Donnie and his brothers. And trust him, they had tested that. He and his brothers had pushed her buttons, got up to trouble in her hotel and much more, but she had yet to crack. Yes, she did threaten to put them back into the battle nexus, but she never went close to carrying out those threats. It was starting to lose its effect.

Like they usually did, they barged into her office, not caring for the doorman’s complaints. Donnie was sure that most of the staff hated them with a passion by now. Big Mama never seemed upset or annoyed by their surprise visits, seeming to enjoy their unscheduled interruptions to her day.

Now, Big Mama stood up from her desk to greet the turtles. Once again flavoring the conversation with nonsense words, sometimes making her sentences almost indecipherable.

Casting her eyes over the turtles, Big Mama took a deep breath and shook her head slightly before she paused, her eyes narrowing a fraction, as they wandered over the turtles, settling on Donnie

“Oh, but perhaps that’s not all that you are anymorsey…” she trailed off. 

Donnie gulped.

None of his brothers noticed his reaction, assuming that her cryptic words were just that, to make Big Mama seem even more mysterious, and writing off the strange comment. They had more pressing things to deal with after all.

Leo got right onto the negotiations, barely pausing for pleasantries. 

Throughout the conversation however, Big Mama’s eyes kept sliding over to Donnie. He could feel his scales crawl under her gaze. He kept his line of sight out of hers, looking stubbornly out of the window.

She knew something.

“Hm, so you say that some beetley-bop has been causing trouble?” She wondered, a finger resting gently upon her nose as she stared directly at Donnie.

She definitely knew. 

He brought his gaze over to hers, and minutely shook his head. He could not have her blurt his secret here, right in front of his brothers. 

This was bad. She knew. What would she do now? He was essentially at her mercy. The blackmail she had on him now was undeniable. Sure, she had acted amiable before, but was this the limit?

The next hour was a horrible experience, every time the mutant was mentioned she would look over to Donnie with an almost perplexed expression, like he was a puzzle she was trying to put together.

Eventually Donnie could take it no longer. He had to talk to Big Mama alone, without his brothers.

Luckily, she seemed to be on the same page.

“Well, I think I can agree to your terms-ibobbles,” she waved him off “but I do have a few little questions-e-westionsee about that antivenom you so cleverly made. Could we have a little chat about that, hm, Donatello?”  

So this was how she was going to do it, Donnie nodded - though begrudgingly- “sure, I have the formulae here, I also have plans to make a more stable way of mass producing the antivenom which will be much more reliable than the current method.”

Donnie started to delve into the more nuanced sciences behind his antivenom production, as saw out of the corner of his eye his brother’s eyes go blank at the information dump.

Leo patted Donnie on the back (his elytra squirmed in protest in response to the battle shell shifting under the pressure) “Well you have fun with that Don, we’ll be in the lobby, they have an all you can eat buffet out and I am not missing it!”

Donnie waved them out, as much as he didn’t want to be alone with Big Mama, he would much rather have this conversation now than later, or in the presence of his brothers.

The door closed shut behind them with a slam.

He turned around to see Big Mama suddenly in front of him, her face twisted in an expression that seemed to be one of soft concern.

“Oh, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a bit of a flim-flam, haven’t you darling?”

Chapter Text

Big Mama looked at the lone turtle in front of her. Or was that even the right word to describe him any more?

When he had walked into her office along with his brothers she hadn’t realised that there was anything different about the turtle, that was, until she inhaled.

Like most bug-like yokai, Big Mama had a strong sense of smell, but not in the traditional sense. She was able to discern subtle shifts of pheromones more than she was able to enjoy the scent of perfumes. 

So it was glaringly obvious to her that something had changed about the purple-clad turtle.

There was something… different… about him now. And from the way he stiffened under her inquiring glance, he was in fact hiding something.

But just what exactly had changed? It couldn’t merely be the sudden barrage of pheromones he was giving off ( stress worry fear ), and these pheromones where not the same as she usually sensed from the turtles. They were not terrapin in nature. No, they were insectoid . Like her.

Big Mama’s gaze sharped, analysing Donatello to search for the cause of this sudden shift.

After many years of dealing with people who tried to deceive and make a fool out of her, Big Mama was well adept at reading people. To see what they were hiding, their intentions and true feeling that they kept hidden. She now used this carefully honed skill on Donatello, to uncover what he was clearly trying to hide. 

No one keeps secrets from Big Mama.

He held himself differently, hunching much more than he was the last time she saw him, (and his posture was already so bad, it was a shame really, he needed to take better care of himself) if he stood to his full height, he would have grown significantly compared to their last encounter. And while Big Mama would admit to knowing close to nothing on teenage boys, she knew that growth spurts did not occur so rapidly.

His body language was closed off from the occupants of the room, especially her (which was to be expected). And he stood slightly behind his brothers, as if trying to remain out of their line of sight. But while he stood slightly apart from his brothers, he still leaned towards them, like he was purposefully holding himself away from them.

But why? If there was anything she had learnt about the turtles, it was that they were furiously codependent on each other. It was quite the weakness. 

But she digressed.

Donatello was the only one of his brothers to wear any type of clothing, or armor in his case.

The metal shell on his back covered his true shell, and could very easily be used to also cover any of the differences that Big Mama was looking for. Same could be said of his mask, as it covered much more of his face than either Leonardo or Michelangelo’s.

Halfway through her analysis she was interrupted by Leonardo starting to negotiate. She would be lying if she said that he wasn’t her favorite out of her turtles, as he was able to keep up with her, and spin through her web with perfect accuracy. He had potential . She enjoyed their back and forths, he was brilliant after all.

“Heyyy Big Mama, -as always lovely to see you- but let’s skip the pleasantries.” He grinned, sliding up to her desk before suddenly becoming much more serious. 

“There is a mutant beetle on the loose with a very nasty bite. Enough to kill you in just a few days. It also has some memory wiping abilities, so you can’t remember even being bit. We think that it might attack mutants and yokai in the hidden city.”

Big Mama took in Leonardo’s words, that is most certainly not good! . But as the specifics sunk in, she found herself looking towards Donatello with new found understanding. A mutant beetle, he said. 

As she took another inhale, she further scrutinised the scent that graced her hidden pedipalps. Yes, she knew what that was, what the kaleidoscope of different scents meant, it was the same that emanated off the beetles that populated her garden. 

The dots connected in her mind.

She knew what Donatello was.

“We have an antidote, which definitely works, and we’d be willing to give some doses to you for you to distribute. Of course, we are not going to allow you to monopolise the access to the antivenom, that’s gonna be a big no-no. But we can work out the details.”

Big Mama smirked, it was cute how Leonardo stated his demands. And perhaps she would agree to them, after all, she looked back to the purple clad beetle, she doubted she would get much use out of them.

Because Donatello was the ‘mutant beetle’ wasn’t he?

But that begged the question, why Donatello was hiding this from his brothers.

Leonardo clearly didn’t know if they were trying to make sure she didn’t establish a monopoly on an antivenom, when they themselves had the monopoly on the venom.

She could smell the faint tones of cantharidin wafting from Donatello. Only perceptible by her unique way of smelling through her pedipalps.

All while she and Leonardo talked, the other two standing to the side, making small contributions that she mostly ignored, she made sure to include a little double-speak, making sure that Donatello knew that she knew. She even discreetly tapped her nose in the ‘I know’ sign while looking directly at him.

She saw his eyes widen in realisation.

Donatello clearly knew that she knew now (she had seen his exact expression too many times to count, the face of being caught out on a lie) the only reason he could have for the small tremors that wracked his body was if his brothers still had no clue about what he was now. 

But again, why wouldn’t he tell them? He was part beetle now, surely that was an upgrade from a simple turtle. He was a creepy-crawly now, like her. 

She raised an eyebrow in question at the turtle-beetle, she would have to get the information straight from the source, because despite her brilliant deductions, she would be unable to find out his true motivations for keeping this hidden. 

She would have to have a talk with Donatello.

Donatello discreetly shook his head, and Big Mama internally rolled her eyes. Of course she wasn’t going to bring this up in front of his brothers. She didn’t have enough information to go revealing secrets all willy-nilly after all. She liked to make informed decisions, thank you very much.

And like the expert at business that she was, she easily navigated her way into talking to Donatello one on one. All she needed to do was create an opportunity for him to talk science at length and his brothers would quickly disappear, not having the patience to listen to words they didn’t understand. 

(Big Mama did not think about just how okay they were to leave one of their number with her on their own. Did it mean that they trusted her? She didn’t know how to feel about that possibility)

So that’s how they had ended up, Donatello standing awkwardly in front of her. She stood up from her desk and approached the nervous mutant. 

“Oh, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a bit of a film-flam, haven’t you darling?”

She asked, tilting her head in unison with her twittering voice. 

It was strange, normally he looked at her in defiance or suspicion (which was justified), but now it set her off kilter to see such an unguarded expression on his face. She didn’t need her pedipalps to know that he was scared.

She took yet another inhale, reiterating the fact in her mind that Donatello was no longer fully-turtle. She saw with calculating gaze as Donatello took a small step back, guarded his expression once again and spoke with false confidence.

“So, I’m guessing that you don’t actually want to know about the production of the antivenom.” He stated. 

Big Mama tutted, “You guess correct beetley-bob”

Donatello flinched at the nickname. “Don’t call me that”

“But I am right, am I not? You are not purely a turtle anymore?”

The resulting silence was telling.

“May I see?”

Her tone was soft and disarming, it threw Donnie off guard at her genuine words. And while he was almost certain that this was just another manipulation, his elytra shifted subconsciously as soon as he even vaguely considered removing his battle shell.

And would it even be so bad if he did? 

Big Mama had already shown at least some indication of keeping his secret, by not outing him in front of his brothers and confronting him one on one. And maybe, just maybe, Donnie wanted someone to see what he had become. Maybe he wanted someone like Big Mama to tell him that he truly was unnatural now, if she didn’t consider him such before. Maybe he wanted her to support what he had constructed in his head. 

To tell him that he belonged as one of the freaks in her circus. 

He sighed as he turned his back towards Big Mama and removed the battle shell. It fell with a clank to the floor. His elytra stretched out, the muscles sore after being kept in such a position for so long. The iridescent wings splayed outwards from underneath, causing cascading lights to fall against Big Mama’s face. She gasped.

——

(art)

——

Donnie shut his eyes tight as he felt Big Mama’s gaze search what remained of his soft shell.

He could feel his heart beating in his throat.

He felt the changing air pressure of Big Mama reaching her hand out, dangerously close to touching his wings. 

Before she could touch them however, Donnie lurched forward and shut his elytra tight, spinning back around to see Big Mama quickly school her face from wonder to something more constrained. Her eyes however were still alight. 

“My, Donatello, those wings of yours are absolutely splendiferous!” She exclaimed, “the way they refract the light is just mesmerising!” 

What? 

That couldn’t be right. 

Big Mama had to be wrong. Her motives were corrupt. This was just manipulation. She was just saying these things to put him off his guard, so that he would be more agreeable to her plans. 

She must be lying.

It was inconceivable that she wasn’t.

These past few days had done nothing to quell the torment raging inside of him. The terror of having his body twisted and warped still lingered and had left a horrid aftertaste.

“Sure.” He said, keeping his shell -no, his elytra he reminded himself- out of her line of sight. He couldn’t be bothered to put on his battle shell again. There was no point, he told himself, she already knew what lay underneath. 

It had nothing to do with the release of tension from his cramped muscles and the figurative release of emotions from the soft buzzing now emanating from within the tight lock of his elytra.

Big Mama frowned as the nervous buzzing filled her office. She shouldn’t have tried to touch Donatello’s wings, but she had been just so entranced by their sudden appearance. She hadn’t expected them to be so bright, it was almost as if they generated light themselves, magnifying the existing light in her office and spinning it into a gorgeous purple light that matched the glow of Donatello’s ninpō.

His reaction, however, to her praise of such beauty was particularly concerning. His body language became much more closed off from her (it was barely open to begin with) as his face twisted with discomfort. 

If she had been the one to be complimented so genuinely, she would preen in self-importance (as long as they weren’t trying to flatter her to sway her to their side - trust her, she would know if that was their goal), and almost every being she had come into contact with did practically the same thing, her nexus champions and business partners were all the same, either puffing their chests or stammering bashfully at the praise.

She had never seen such discomfort in response to a compliment. Compliments were supposed to make someone happy! Especially such a genuine one, which was rare from Big Mama. It wasn’t often that she complimented someone without a secondary motive.

It wasn’t right.

And his response was not correct! Did he not know the right pleasantries? Did Lou Jitsu teach him nothing? You didn’t simply go ‘sure’ in such a disrespectful tone! Not to Big Mama!

Big Mama almost lost herself to her frustration, before calming herself with another breath. She was concerned. It was common for people to be disrespectful when they were uncomfortable. But why ? Could it be Donatello’s new form that was upsetting him?

Surely it could not be! He was beautiful now! Has he not seen the iridescent sheen on his elytra? Or the delicate patterns splayed across the wing’s membrane? Did he not see into the depths of the elytra, behind his wings, how the exoskeleton across his back was as dark as ebony, how it had a sheen like obsidian? 

Did he not see how this was a brilliant improvement?

Big Mama knew what he had been before. A spiny soft shell turtle. She had seen pictures. Hideous things, really. She was glad that Donatello’s face did not closely resemble that of his origins. But the shell was another matter entirely. Compared to his brothers, it was just so boring . 

While she had never seen Donatello’s soft shell (and she never would now) she had no doubt that it would not compare to the shells of his brothers. It wouldn’t have the majestic patterns like Leonardo or Michelangelo, nor the intimidating spikes of Raphael. 

But now , it was as if someone had set a complex decoration of precious stones across his back. He should be ecstatic.

And it wasn’t as if the soft shell had given him such an advantage before. Sure, he was slightly more flexible than his brothers, not so much so that it was impressive. She had seen humans with more flexibility. These elytra were much more functional, they would allow him to fly after all, naturally . Without having to rely on an inorganic metal husk. And that purple glow? There was definitely something mystic hidden within his wings. 

She wished she could have another look.

Big Mama mourned the loss of the elytra and wings from her sight

But Big Mama was wondering, why did Donatello insist on having this conversation without his brothers, why did they not know? Surely Donatello would tell them immediately after he discovered his new situation? When he had seen what a blessing he had been given?

She had many questions.

And she would get her answers.

Chapter Text

Donnie wasn’t going to let Big Mama intimidate him. He stood steadfast as a collection of unidentifiable expressions passed across Big Mama’s face. 

He was waiting for her to speak, because he certainly didn’t know where to go from here. He needed to know more of her true standing about his situation, not just false compliments. He couldn’t go forward without knowing more about her end goal for him. Because she had to have one right? Why else would she be talking to him now?

This was the first time anyone had seen the secondary mutations. He didn’t have any prior knowledge about how this was supposed to work, no past social interactions that he could study and learn from, he was going into this blind. And on top of that, he was conversing with Big Mama. So the stakes were even higher. She had so much power over him right now, under threat of telling his brothers she could make him do just about anything.

Fight in the battle nexus, supply her with cantharidin, he would even allow himself to be poked and prodded by horribly curious scientists.

He hated it. He hated the vulnerability.

He saw Big Mama compose herself, and he himself tensed, preparing for her words.

“So, how did you get yourself into such a skipper-doo?”

Ah, of course, she was scouting for information. She wasn’t going to tell him what she was going to do with him until she knew everything there was to know about anything. But then the question was, would he comply with this impromptu interrogation?

Donnie debated just leaving then and there. He doubted he would get far on his own if he ran out the way he came, her bellhops would easily overwhelm him, he eyed her window. He could easily break it, and jump out catching himself with his wings (and wasn’t that a weird thought?).

But what would be the point? Where would he go? Back to the lair? Big Mama would no doubt reveal his predicament to his brothers. And even if they didn’t believe her at first, they would after they ask to see his shell. After all, that would be the easy way to dispute Big Mama’s claims, but her claims would be true. It was a Hobson’s choice, each path seemed equally risky. But he would rather bend to Big Mama’s wishes than have his brothers find out.

“I was bitten by one of the oozesquitoes, and got mutated again. It was a stupid mistake, and it turned me into… this.” He gestured to himself, his tone despondent.

She tilted her head and hummed, as if carefully considering his words. She paused. Rolling her next words around in her mouth, as if tasting them.

“Do you mind if I slip into something a little more comfortable?” She asked, her tone light and conversational.

Donnie knew where this was going. There was no point in answering, she was just going to change anyway. And it wasn’t like he held any power over her anyway.

She took a while before actually removing her human disguise, as if actually waiting for a response, side eyeing him for a few seconds before huffing at his stubborn silence and tapping her cloaking broach.

The silk tendrils of mystic energy wrapped around her, obscuring her form and growing larger and larger until they dispersed and Big Mama was left towering over Donnie in her full arachnid form. 

His antennae flinched under his mask. 

“I believe it would be more comfortable for you if I was in my true form. Just us talking insectey to insectey” she crooned, leaning down so they were more face to face and she wasn’t just towering over his small form. 

Yeah right, she just wanted to intimidate him with her natural form, despite the mask covering his antennae, they still picked up on the sudden diffusion of pheromones from the spider. She clearly had a way of manipulating the pheromones she gave off, because even under his mask his antennae could pick up the (safety, concern, canihelp?) emanating from her, a horrid mockery of what he felt from Raph. He hated how the buzzing of his wings slowed in response.

He couldn’t trust her. (Distrust, weariness, leavemealone)

She didn’t care for his ‘comfort’, and anyway, nothing could possibly relax him right now. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. It didn’t matter just how ‘redeemed’ his brothers thought Big Mama was, she still couldn’t be trusted. 

He glared at her, hating her for her false platitudes.

Big Mama’s eyes narrowed in frustration, sighing before she pulled back up to her full height, wandering back over to her desk to put some distance between the two.

“So, I must ask, why haven't you told your brothers about this fizzy-pop?”

“I would have thought you knew by now.” Donnie stated, his elytra shifting nervously.

She stiffened, clearly annoyed by Donnie challenging her intellect. “Enlighten me.”

“I was the one who poisoned Leo! He nearly died because of me!” He shouted, admitting it for the first time aloud. “They’d hate me if they knew what I did, and I already mess up enough as it is.” He muttered.

Big Mama tilted her head.

“Hm, I didn’t know you wanted to kill your brother!” 

Donnie flinched back as if struck, “What?! No I don’t!” He exclaimed, shocked and confused that she would suggest such a thing.

She smiled, “So then you did not mean to poison him?” She asked.

“Of course not!” He said, slightly hysterical at this point, what was she even saying?

“Oh, well then I don’t see how this crack-a-doo is an issue. Fault lies in intent, Beetley-bob.”

“I told you not to call me that!” He fumed, ignoring her words. He wasn’t going to take advice from her! She had no right! She didn’t know all the facts! Donnie knew about the poison, and he still went to that stupid dinner! And then he ran away! It was his fault! He should have known that his food was going to be snatched up by one of his brothers!

She tilted her head. Donnie wanted her to stop doing that, to stop looking at him like that.

Despite his obvious anger she continued, “But I don’t understand.” She hummed, “Other than your little trim-tram with Leonardo, you must be over the stars! After all, this is such a splendiferous improvement!”

…

What .

Was she out of her mind?

Had the nonsense words she used finally affected her cognitive functioning?

Surely she couldn’t-

Why would she even suggest-

Donnie’s mind struggled as he tried to comprehend such a backwards worldview. Big Mama’s words were so different from his own thoughts that had been compounding in the back of his mind for days. For her to say such a thing, it rattled Donnie’s already taxed mind. It was like suggesting that the sky was red, or that uranium was completely safe to consume, or that you could survive without oxygen. 

Donnie likened his mind to a jigsaw puzzle. With every new piece of information, his worldview grew. Every graph, every documentary, every essay helped to expand his puzzle, allowing him to see how the world worked. He was always finding new pieces of the puzzle that needed to be completed, or finding that a section he previously thought to be finished to suddenly be missing a vital piece.

Every nugget of information had its place, from photosynthesis to astrophysics to social cues (that one he never seemed to finish). But now? The downright inane words coming out of Big Mama’s mouth had no place in his puzzle.

Over the past few days Donnie had expanded his jigsaw, begrudgingly swapping out pieces when he found how the old ones didn’t seem to fit anymore. 

Donatello no longer equaled spiny softshell turtle. Now a puzzle piece etched with Lytta nuttalli , or Nuttall’s Blister Beetle, fit gratingly beside it. And around this piece Donnie had expanded his jigsaw puzzle. 

Donatello has elytra made of chitin. Donatello has three pairs of wings and can fly. Donatello produces the venom cantharidin in his salivary glands. Donatello poisoned his brother with cantharidin. Donatello nearly killed his twin. Donatello is lying to his brothers about his mutation. Donatello’s brothers will hate him if they ever find out. Donatello didn’t want his brothers to find out. Donatello has been miserable since his last trip to the scrapyard.

Donatello is miserable.

So this new piece of information Big Mama was offering; that Donatello had been improved by this change, had no place in his jigsaw. Its edges were silky smooth and did not fit with the jagged edges of his worldview that had been reinforced by a never ending dialogue of self-loathing.

It had no place in his jigsaw. 

But, maybe she wasn’t talking about it in terms of emotions. Maybe Big Mama meant it in a more clinical way. 

Draxum had made the oozesquitoes with the intent to improve humanity after all. And from an outsider's perspective it had done just that. 

But he could already do most of the changes he had been subjected to! He could already fly with the help of his jet pack battle shell, he could already climb surfaces with the help of his spider battle shell. Sure, the smelling was new, the ability to discern other emotions through scent, but he had his brothers for that, he had the data he had collected on expressions and body language to help with that. He didn’t need these mutations.

These changes were not ‘an improvement ’ as Big Mama had suggested, they were just another way for Donnie to conform to using mystic. 

It was like the universe was telling him to give up on his science, on his tech, for mystic powers! While Donnie never really believed in ‘fate’ and ‘The will of the universe’ and all that nonsense, he might as well! Why not believe in destiny when the mystic was taking such prevalence in his life? He might as well! Yeah! Let’s just throw away all my hard work and rely on wishy-washy magic ! He said not at all sarcastically.

But he digressed. 

Donnie had had enough of this mockery, enough of Big Mama’s manipulations. He wanted to get this over with already, to ‘stop beating around the bush’ as one would say.

“Look, what do you want? You clearly want something from me, just tell me what it is and get it over with already.” He ranted, clenching and unclenching his fists.

For a second Big Mama seemed taken back, before her face seemed to melt into something sickening sympathetic.

“Oh darling-“

“No! Don’t you ‘oh darling’ me,” he cut her off, “just tell me what you want me to do  so you won’t tell my brothers about this!”

“Ah, you think I want something from you.” 

He rolled his eyes, his teeth clenched. “Obviously.”

“Well I don’t, I was simply curious-”

“Well! Have I sated your sick curiosity? Did you have fun staring at a freak? Something twice unnatural?” Donnie spoke, his hands spread and his tone mocking.

“- I used the wrong words, what I meant to say was-”

“I don’t care what you ‘meant to say’, I know what you’re trying to do!”

Big Mama’s face twisted in confusion, but before she could say anything Donnie interrupted her once again.

“If you don’t want anything, then there is nothing I can give you to stop you from telling my brothers about what I am. So I am going to go down to them, and take in the last few moments of them not hating my guts . Capish?” He chose to ignore how his voice choked up at the end of his rant, tears gathering in his eyes. 

——

(art)

He gathered up his battle shell, placing it on his back and held back a sob as the hydraulic hiss tightened around his elytra, trapping them in discomfort. He stalked out of her office, swinging the door open with shaky hands.

Big Mama hurriedly scuttled after him, holding the door open and preventing him from slamming it behind him.

“Wait!” 

Donnie sighed.

“What.” He said, not bothering to turn around and face her.

“I’m not going to tell your brothers about this.” She said, in a voice softer than Donnie thought she was ever capable of.

His eyebrows came together in confusion, “Why?” He asked, turning around to look at the arachnid.

She smiled forlornly at him, “I doubt you would believe me, but I do care, somewhat , about you turtley-boos. So I will not tell. And anyway, I believe this is something you must do yourself, open yourself up to them, and show them your wings. Because they truly are beautiful.”

Donnie’s eyes widened at her words.

“Toodles, Beetley-bob.” 

The door slid shut.

The puzzle pieces still did not fit.

Chapter Text

Donnie spent way too long waiting for the other foot to drop. 

It didn’t matter that Big Mama had given her word not to tell his brothers, he still didn’t trust her. But still, it was hard to argue with how his brothers remained blissfully unaware of his new insect-like status.

Donnie had been a wreck the first evening back from Big Mama’s hotel. He had been certain that she would tell his brothers at any moment’s notice, the fear was overwhelming, simultaneously not wanting to see his brothers’ faces twist in betrayal but also wanting to soak up every positive interaction he had with them, for worry that it may be their last. 

He wanted to be close to them but he also didn’t want to see their opinion of him change for the worse.

That night had been horrible. He forced himself to turn down a turtle-pile, having to go back to the empty solitude of his room to take off his battle shell and relieve his stupid elytra so he could sleep. Not that he got much sleep that night, afraid that the news would break during the night and when he next saw his brothers he would be graced with stoney glares.

He exited his room that morning with his mask pulling double duty, not only covering his antennae, but his deep eye bags as well. He sat at the kitchen table, a hot cup of coffee stuck in his hands, eyeing the exit as he waited for one of his brothers to enter. He needed to see if they knew or not.

Donnie wondered who he would see first.

It was a toss up to who would be in the kitchen first in the mornings. Usually it was either Mikey or Leo, Mikey was a naturally early riser, and would get up bright and early to start on a five star breakfast, while Leo, much like Donnie, fell under the umbrella of ‘I never got to sleep in the first place’, it all depended on when last he slept, because when Leo crashed, he crashed hard .

But while Leo would never admit it, he was still tired from recovering from Donnie’s venom, so it was more likely he would still be languishing in his room.

Raph slept like a rock, he was always the last up, not for lack of trying however. It just seemed that whenever someone woke him up for anything other than an emergency, Raph would just fall back asleep in a matter of seconds. And calling ‘fire’ to wake him up, only just set a cranky Raph on you, and was very much not worth it. Setting an actual fire was definitely not worth it (as Donnie found out). Needless to say, Raph wouldn’t be up for another hour or so.

So Donnie wasn’t all that surprised that it was Mikey who walked into the kitchen first. He braced himself, his legs tensing as he prepared to make a run for the nearest sewer grate, come the worst case scenario.

“Hey Donnie! You’re up early!” Mikey greeted, chipper as always.

Usually his upbeat tone so early in the morning would usually grate on Donnie’s nerves, but now he was thankful for it. It was proof that nothing had changed, Mikey still didn’t know, Big Mama didn’t break her word. All the tension leaked from his body as he melted into his chair. They still didn’t know .

Donnie mumbled a greeting into his coffee.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Mmm”

“Do you want an omelet?”

“Mmg”

“I think we still have some bacon that needs to be cooked today, that sound good?”

“Mmn”

“Okie!”

Donnie sat in silence as Mikey started cooking, slowly sipping on his coffee, as a comfortable silence settled over the kitchen.

It was in times like this he could pretend that nothing had changed, that that fateful night in the scrapyard had never come to pass. 

The bacon omelet was slid in front of him, tearing his attention away from the contents of his mug.

“Thanks Angelo” he murmured, finally able to make coherent noises.

Mikey smiled at him, brightening the room before he turned to crack another egg for his own omelet. 

Donnie stared down at the plate, in all honesty, he didn’t think he could stomach the large omelet that Mikey had made. The stress of the past few days had lowered his appetite. Mikey had a habit of making larger portions with the knowledge that someone would quickly hoover up whatever remained, so what now lay in front of him was way more than he was comfortable eating. Normally he would just eat what he could and leave the rest for his brothers, but then he reached another dilemma. 

There was no such thing as ‘leftovers’ in the Hamato Household.

Either because of Mikey’s need to not throw away any food, or Raph’s never ending hunger, all food was eaten in some way by the end of the day. He had forgotten this before, and Leo had paid dearly for it, so he couldn’t make the same mistake again.

And so Donnie looked at his omelet with growing dread. As much as his body disagreed with his assessment, 

He sighed and picked up his fork.

———

Later, After everyone had been woken up and eaten, they all moved towards the large hall in the lair they used for training. 

Beaten up mannequins lay around the room, some with poorly drawn orange feet on their faces, but the center had been cleared of any mess, all strewn about weights or weaponry had been pushed to the side to create a good place for sparring.

After the invasion, it was an unanimous decision to increase their training, and after Leo had fully recovered from his injuries they had all made it routine to practice together at least once per day. 

They had taken a few days off for Leo to recover again (he did that) after the most recent crisis, they were determined to get back into the swing of things.

Leo and Mikey went first. Forgoing their mystic weapons this time, after all, they couldn’t rely solely on their mystic powers. They danced around one another, Mikey flipping, his feet barely touching the ground as he seemed to fly across the sparring mat. Leo countered his every move with calculated precision, his posture moving lightning fast to adjust and react to Mikey’s chaotic fighting style.

The fight carried on, parrying, jumping, ducking, twirling, as the two brothers matched each other’s style perfectly, until something gave. 

It was hard to tell, maybe Leo had stepped wrong, attempted to teleport to another position before hesitating, forgetting how they were sparring without their powers. Or maybe Mikey’s collection of intricate gymnastics had given himself an opening as he used his nunchucks to disarm Leo’s katana, throwing them to the side before seamlessly trapping Leo in a hold, holding him down for a solid three seconds while Leo struggled beneath him, after the three seconds Leo stopped struggling as Mikey hollered and leaped off of his brother, celebrating his victory.

“Oh Shell yeah, baby!” He yelled, landing into a graceful gymnastics’ bow. “Take that Leo!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, celebrate while you can Mikes, you just caught me on an off day, next time, you are so going down.” He jeered, getting up from the mat and dusting himself off.

“Well done Mikey!” Raph cheered, he patted Donnie on the back, his heavy hand pressing on his battle shell and causing Donnie to lurch forward at the sudden movement on his elytra. “Our turn now Donnie!”

Recovering quickly from the sudden contact, Donnie moved onto the sparring mat, facing his brother. Raph chuckled darkly, a sweet smile on his face, “you’re goin’ down Don!”

“On contraire, you will find that it will be yourself that will be repositioned into a horizontal bearing on these supporting surfaces!” Donnie retorted, using the momentary distraction of Raph’s confusion to go in for an attack which Raph easily recovered in time for and blocked with his sai.

The spar started off slow, trading blows as the two brothers took turns attacking and defending, offense and defense. Raph used his superior size to crowd Donnie, blocking some of his more aggressive attacks with his pure unyielding scales just absorbing the blows. Donnie however took advantage of his manoeuvrability, using his tech bō to vault over his brother and to get some distance between the two.

Eventually they started trading blows at a faster and faster pace, the circles they fought in becoming tighter and tighter as Raph successfully forced Donnie to fight in much closer quarters with him, gaining the upper hand. 

Donnie suddenly became aware of there being no escape, Raph had forced him into a corner and there seemed to be no way to avoid the incoming sai from wrenching his tech bō from his grip.

In a feat of desperation Donnie leaped up, unthinking, supporting himself on his tech bō, not too dissimilar from a kangaroo balancing itself on its tail, taking in the small flash of confusion on Raph’s face, before slamming his feet into his brother’s plastron.

He felt the muscles in his legs flex as they pressed against the cool scales of his brother. 

He could feel the tension release in his muscles like a gunshot, as Raph’s direction was reversed, knocking him off of his solid stance and into the air as he was punched backwards.

Time slowed as Donnie found himself leaping after his brother, in a much more controlled arc.

Raph hit the ground. Slightly dazed he groaned as Donnie easily knocked his sai out of his hands, pinning him down with his tech bō for three seconds.

One, two, three.

——

(art)

——

It took a second for his actions to catch up with him, his breaths heavy, his veins still saturated with adrenaline. How had he done that? He certainly didn’t have the brute strength to just launch Raph across the room with a kick! How could he have possibly-

Oh.

The obvious answer came to him.

Really? Another thing? Now this was getting ridiculous.

Not only did he have (yes let’s count again!) elytra, wings, tactile spines, antennae, added height, but now he had added disproportionate strength?

It seemed to be localised in his legs, as he didn’t feel any change in the strength of his arms while he was wielding his tech bō. 

Just how much stronger was he? How much force was required to completely redirect a charging mutant snapping turtle?

As his mind was reeling, absorbing and questioning this new information, Donnie found himself automatically reaching for Raph’s hand, pulling him back to his feet.

Raph rubbed the back of his head, wincing, “Wowza Donnie, real mean kick you got there. Since when could you do that? ‘Ave you been holdin’ out on us?” He grinned.

Leo and Mikey ran up from the sidelines to the other two brothers. “I guess you haven’t been skipping Leg day, have you ‘Tello?” Leo asked, swinging an arm around Donnie’s shoulders, and squeezing close in a half-hug. Donnie turned to look down at his brother.

“Ah- you see-” Donnie’s mind buffered as he tried to come up with yet another excuse.

“Wait. What the hell is this?”  Leo exclaimed, his voice accusing.

Donnie stiffened, straightening as Leo’s tone sent alarm shooting down his spine.

Leo glared up at his brother, his eyes narrowed as he examined Donnie up and down.

A bead of sweat dripped down Donnie’s forehead.

Leo quickly extracted himself from Donnie, turning to Raph who had quickly recovered from his fall and was staring at them inquisitively. 

Leo pointed a damning finger at Donnie, anger clouding his face as he inhaled and Donnie’s heart was beating rapidly and his hands shook and-

“Is he taller than me now?!”

“Raph!” Leo grabbed Raph and dragged him over to the twins, “Raph, measure us okay?” He ordered, as he turned Donnie around as they could stand back to back. Donnie let himself be manhandled as his heart recovered from the scare.

He felt his battle shell press against Leo’s (normal) shell.

He felt Raph ghost his fingers over his head, before moving his hand to hover a good four inches above Leo’s head.

Mikey laughed as Leo slowly looked up to see Raph’s hand held a good distance from the top of his head.

“Dude.” He deadpanned, he looked at his hands, “How could this be?” He fell to his knees as he started to lament over his lost height.

“For years Donatello and I have been neck-a-neck, with Donnie only using his goggles to seem taller than moi , but now? I have lost one of the things most precious to me; my quarter inch height advantage! I looked away and it just slipped through my fingers. I guess I didn’t appreciate it enough, didn’t make fun of Donnie enough. I’ll… I’ll never be able to say ‘how’s the weather down there’ to him anymore.” He looked heavenward.

Raph shook his head at Leo’s dramatics, turning fully to Donnie admiring how little he had to turn his head down. “Wow Don! I barely have’ta took down to see ya anymore!”

“I can’t believe we didn’t notice it! You really should fix your posture Donnie, you slouching all the time has got to be bad for your back!” Mikey said, sliding over to Donnie to see just how much taller he was now. 

The familiar banter of his brothers brought Donnie out of his state of shock, and like clockwork he matched their energy.

Smiling, and vehemently pretending that his skin wasn’t crawling, he straightened out his spine and drew himself proudly into his full height, he moved out to where Leo kneeled, still mourning the loss of his slight height advantage.

“How’s the weather down there, Leo?” He jeered.

Leo placed his head into his hands and let out a muffled scream.

Donnie’s powerful kick was quickly forgotten.

Chapter Text

Donnie was making himself a sandwich, throwing together what he could find in the fridge into a complete meal. He was just about to take the first bite when Leo crashed into the kitchen, announcing his arrival loudly.

“Hey Don!” Leo sauntered up to him, an aggravating smirk adorning his face. “It’s a Saturday, you know what that means!” He held out a hand, thumb facing upwards.

Oh yeah , Donnie had forgotten, as with everything that had been happening he had been a little preoccupied. 

Every Saturday he and Leo competed with a thumb war for the title of Eldest Twin. Leo currently had a very annoying winning streak, having been the older twin for four weeks now.

Donnie couldn’t let that stand, he would have to best his twin this time.

But then again…

Donnie became hyper aware of the small tactile spines adorning his fingers.

Would Leo notice?

It was too risky, Donnie would have to (and he shudders at the mere thought) decline the thumb war. And let Leo keep his winning streak.

But wasn’t that equally as risky? He was self aware enough to know that it would be wildly out of character for him to do such a thing.

He started forming a pros and cons list in his head, weighing his two options. 

All that was thrown out of the window however, when he saw Leo’s insufferable smirk grow upon seeing his slight hesitation.

Oh hell no, he’s not losing to this asshole again.

Without another thought, he shoved his hand into Leo’s, intertwining them. He stared into Leo’s eyes, “let’s dance, brother,” he challenged.

“Soon you’ll be calling me big brother,” Leo retorted.

Donnie growled in response, vibrations from his throat traveling down his body and causing the wings underneath his elytra to vibrate in tandem.

His grip tightened on his brother’s hand, he could feel his spines catch onto the fabric of Leo’s gloves.

He would not be losing this time.

“One two three four, I declare a thumb war!” They chanted.

Furiously their thumbs moved back and forth between their intertwined hands, attempting to pin the other down. The hands themselves twisted around as the twins pulled their arms to and thro, trying to get an advantage over the other.

Finally, after a few minutes of ferocious battle that had Mikey shaking his head at their antics from across the kitchen, Donnie managed to pin down Leo’s thumb with his own.  Normally, Leo would slip out of such a hold with ease and the battle would continue for another half hour, but this time, under the pressure of such a stressful fight, some of Donnie’s conscious control of his spines was lost as the tips dug into Leo’s scales and fingernails. 

Leo’s thumb struggled under Donnie’s own, wiggling back and forth as he attempted to escape. 

But it was to no avail, as Donnie’s thumb was attached firmly to his. Pressing it down into their intertwined fists.

Riding on the adrenaline of an assured victory, and the joy of seeing the smirk on Leo’s face fall away into frustration, Donnie grinned. 

“One”

Leo’s face grew panicked

“Two”

Leo started jerking his own arm in an attempt to dislodge Donnie’s thumb

“Three!”

At Donnie’s announcement of his victory, Leo’s hand ceased its struggling.

Donnie was quick to remove his hand, pulling back the tactile spines as fast as possible. He looked down to Leo, a sick twisted feeling growing in his gut as he suddenly realised the position he had put himself in. He had been too absorbed in the competition. Had Leo noticed the pull of his spines on his scales? 

But looking at him now, it seemed his -now younger- twin was too overcome by the horror of losing to care for the exact way his victory was taken from him. Opting instead to break out into yet another display of dramatics.

“NO!!! My winning streak! I’ve… I’ve lost so much. First my quarter inch height advantage and now this?!” He wailed, “You don’t understand my pain Donnie, to have everything you thought you knew to be just… so cruelly torn away!” He set his now freed hand against his forehead, closing his eyes in horror.

Ignoring how Leo’s words struck something raw inside of him, Donnie let out a mocking laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic… little brother,”

Leo gasped at the disrespect, as if he didn’t do the exact same thing each time he won.

“Okay, can we please move on?” Mikey complained from the corner, tired of the twin’s antics. “You’re in the way of the stove”

In tandem, Leo and Donnie crossed their arms and rolled their eyes, “fine” they said, matching smirks in their voices as Mikey groaned.

——

One of Donnie’s points of pride was his garden. 

Here he grew many different plants, from herbs, to cacti, to beautiful flowers. 

They had many uses, from supplying Mikey with fresh ingredients, to brightening up the lair, and some he even used in his genetic engineering. He was especially proud of the bioluminescent begonia he had grown to act as a night light for Raph.

The plant he was working on now was his sweet pea, its vines winded around its supports and delicate pink flowers blooming. Sprouting from its stem were pods full of beans, shining a healthy green.

These pods were what he was here for now. 

He was picking these pods now, dropping them into a purple (of course) bucket. Later he would clean these pea pods and bring them to Mikey, who would perhaps incorporate them in his cooking.

It was peaceful. The purple UV lights in his garden reflected off the papery pink flowers creating a beautiful spectrum of magenta and lilac. 

He let his mind flow to the beat of the music playing in his headphones.

He’d brush away the delicate flowers and brown pea pods, searching for the healthy green ones, then he’d pick them off and drop them in his bucket. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

——

(Art)

——

After a while he ended up part way hidden in the plant, soaking in the rich perfume through both his nose and receiving the muted smell through his mask in his antennae.

He vehemently ignored the echo of sensations, as he picked and dropped, picked and dropped. 

He could pretend that nothing was wrong.

He could pretend.

Absentmindedly he found himself eating one of the legumes, placing it in his mouth instead of the bucket. It tasted much better than he thought it would, he found that he didn’t mind the fact that they hadn’t been cooked nor their slightly brittle texture. 

Again and again, he found that instead of dropping the pods in the bucket he was chewing them instead. Sometimes, instead of the green pods, he ate some of the flowers. He found that he enjoyed them just as much.

I really should stop , he thought, as he moved away from his green pea plant. There was no point in picking the pods if he was just going to eat them. And taking the flowers would just prevent the plant from going to seed, which he didn’t want to do.

Instead he picked up his bucket and made his way away from the plant. 

He could do something else now, maybe plant some bulbs or check his tomatoes.

He looked down at the collection of green pea pods in his bucket. Surely, he could just have another.

And another.

And another.

And before he knew it, he was sitting down at one of the desks in his garden, listening to music and just eating green peas one by one, thoroughly enjoying them.

He could pretend that this was normal.

Donatello could pretend.

——

Donnie was helping Mikey prepare dinner. He had been assigned some simple tasks while Mikey flew around the kitchen, preparing the meal. 

Currently the youngest brother was chopping some vegetables with extreme culinary skills, the knife a blur. 

Mikey was a genius in the kitchen, that was true, but he still had to mess up sometimes. He was still learning after all. But even so, Donnie was surprised to hear the sudden halting of the sound of chopping, accompanied by a soft hiss and a quiet “Ow!”.

Donnie stopped his work and quickly went over to his youngest brother, concern in his voice,

“Are you alright?”

Mikey winced, shaking his hand, “Aw man, It’s okay, I just cut my finger a little.”

Donnie gently took Mikey’s injured hand in his, running a finger over the slightly raised lines adorning his arms and inspecting the wound. Blood had quickly welled up in the cut and was starting to drip down onto the kitchen floor.

“Hmm, that’s certainly not good”

Mikey looked at the cut, rotating his hand around so the blood instead dripped into his palm. He looked back up to Donnie.

“It’s fine, It doesn’t hurt much,”

Mikey frowned, he couldn’t feel much coming from his hands these days. He shook his head slightly, as if shaking the morose feeling out of his brain. His face changed into a cheeky grin as he lifted his injured hand even closer to Donnie’s face.

“Kiss it better for me Dee?”

Rolling his eyes, Donnie grabbed a hold of Mikey’s hand again. Mikey always did this with the little injuries, and it never stopped being slightly endearing. Donnie was thrust into the nostalgic memory of a much younger Mikey doing the same action as he was now, back when he was more sincere with his belief that ‘kissing it better’ had any real medical value. 

He started to bring Mikey’s hand up to his lips, to complete this age old tradition they had, this extrapolation of their younger antics. Before his mind willed back into gear. And he remembered that this little act of love could kill.

That if his spit, the cantharidin, got into Mikey’s blood stream, it could bring about horrible consequences. 

Ripping open the membrane of cells and stimulating them to digest themselves in a horrifying process that Donnie knew inside and out. 

He couldn’t do that again. 

He couldn’t hurt another one of his brothers . 

He flinched and his body stuttered as he let go of Mikey’s hand, quickly turning around to look through the kitchen cabinets, searching for bandaids. 

Forcing nonchalance into his tone, Donnie spoke, “That would be unsanitary ‘Angelo, now, you start cleaning it while I find the bandaids, Leo always puts them in the most inconvenient places.”

——

(art)

“…Oh. Okay.”

Mikey murmured, his eyes downcast and confused at this sudden change in the atmosphere of the room. He glanced at Donnie’s metal covered shell before turning away as well, turning on the tap of the sink.

“Remember to use cold water,” Donnie chimed in from behind him. Trying to regain the flow of casual conversation. Mikey nodded, even though Donnie couldn’t see him.

“Sure.” He said, still off balance.

A heavy silence fell over the kitchen, save for the sound of running water and the shuffling of cabinets. 

“Aha! I have acquired the bandaid!” Donnie called triumphantly. Spinning back around to face Mikey he displayed his findings proudly.

“Now, you could have a boring beige bandaid, or , you could have the last Jupiter Jim bandaid and get back at Leo for putting all of these in the most inaccessible place in the kitchen, which has got to be a health hazard.” He joked.

Mikey laughed, though it felt hollow to his ears. This was wrong . “Jupiter Jim is Leo’s favorite”

Donnie quirked an eyebrow and lifted the two options of bandaid, one in each hand, weighing them as if on a scale. “Soo? Which one?” He asked.

Mikey pointed (with his un-injured hand) towards the Juptitor Jim bandaid and Donnie chuckled as he put away the others into a much more accessible place in the cabinets.

Taking Mikey’s hand in his, he carefully applied the bandaid.

Mikey stayed silent as Donnie wrapped his injured finger, watching his older brother as he removed the paper from the bandaid, exposing the sticky plastic. Donnie took a little longer than he could have lining up the bandaid to ensure it lay completely over his cut.

Mikey looked back up to Donnie’s face. He had stuck his tongue out in concentration as he stared intently at Mikey’s hand. Avoiding his eyes. 

“There you go, the last Jupiter Jim bandaid.” He said, finishing applying the bandaid with a flourish. He patted Mikey’s head. (Not with a metal arm from his spider battle shell, that one was too heavy, it hurt his elytra, it hurt him )

They made eye contact for a second, before both of their gazes slipped away awkwardly. 

Mikey opened his mouth like he was about to say something before hesitating, reevaluating his words before he spoke. “Welp! Time to get back to cutting, I swear I’ll be more careful, that time was just a fluke I promise.” 

Donnie nodded, and went back to his own chores. 

Mikey stood before the cutting board, not picking up his knife (which he had cleaned). He felt… unsteady… from that whole interaction.

Nothing bad had happened. Nothing even particularly odd. It was just… off putting.

How Donnie hadn’t kissed his cut.

But that was stupid. This was stupid. Did he hear himself? Upset because his brother wouldn’t kiss his cut better ? How old was he? He wasn’t a toddler. He didn’t need anyone to ‘kiss it better’ anymore.

It was stupid.

Who even cared?

It didn’t matter, he just had to grow up.

Chapter Text

Raph looked at Donnie, who was staring blankly forwards, he had been dragged out of his lab (again) to spend some quality time as a family -per Mikey’s insistence. They were taking turns playing a new two-player video game. 

Right now it was Leo and Mikey’s turn to play. They were furiously mashing the buttons, trying to best one another. Leo had already been called out for trying to cheat twice now. Both times by trying to use his foot to knock the controller out of Mikey’s hands. Raph had to sit between them after Leo’s second attempt was successful and caused Mikey to lose. 

Mikey then demanded a rematch (even though it was Donnie and Raph’s turn) because it wasn’t fair. Raph conceded the point, and there weren’t any rebuttals from Donnie, so they were allowed another go. This time Mikey won. 

Taking the remote from Leo, who was caught up in an argument with Mikey, Raph turned to Donnie. “Come on Donnie, it’s our turn - finally!” When Donnie didn’t respond or move, Raph gave him a closer look.

He was staring intently to the side, away from the brothers. Raph followed his gaze to an old lamp sitting on a side-table. 

His eye-ridges furrowed in confusion as he looked between Donnie and the lamp, the lamp and Donnie, as he tried to figure out why Donnie was staring at it so intently. It wasn’t like it was an interesting lamp or anything, it was actually quite boring as far as Raph thought, no interesting or eye-catching designs at all.

“Donnie?” He asked.

——

(art)

——

Still he did not respond. 

Growing concerned, Raph waved a hand in front of Donnie’s face, “you all there bud?”

His line of sight interrupted, Donnie shook his head, blinking furiously, as he brought himself out of his trance, turning to his oldest brother. 

“Yeah?”

“Dude you just zoned out, It’s our turn to play.”

“Oh, right.”

Donnie frowned in confusion, casting his gaze back to the lamp for a second before taking the controller from where Mikey sat, ignoring how Mikey and Leo were tussling around. 

Shaking his head once more, he focused on the game. Ignoring how Leo and Mikey fought and forcing himself not to react when they rolled into the side-table, causing the lamp to tumble off the side and crash onto the floor, the light blinking out of existence.

He watched as Raph yelled at the two younger brothers for breaking it.

He really needed to go to sleep.

——

Donnie looked forlornly towards his bed.

For all the nights since his second mutation (at least the ones wherein he actually slept, which weren’t that many, and even fewer where he slept in his bed instead of by his desk), his sleep had been atrocious.

It was hard to explain, it was like his blankets no longer offered him the safety that they once did.

He hated these changes that the mutation had brought upon him. 

Perhaps it was a sensory thing. Perhaps the fabric of his blankets was no longer comfortable. But if that was the case, which fabric would be the best?

Donnie frowned

This required some data acquisition.

 —

Donnie looked at the pile of blankets and pillows he had gathered. They took up quite a lot of space in his room, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had snuck into his brothers’ rooms to get some of them, (especially Raph, he had a habit of hoarding any soft fabrics he could get his claws on).

Time to get started. 

Donnie’s plan was as follows, each night he would cycle through the collection of blankets until he found one that satisfied his new beetle biology. 

The first blanket he would use would be the light pink on the top of the pile. It was soft and very fluffy. Accompanying he chose a pillow with the periodic square for Uranium adorning it, which Mikey had made him for his birthday.

Making sure his door was locked, Donnie removed his battle shell, and experienced, with now greater familiarity, how his elytra stretched outwards at the new freedom. His wings buzzed along in tandem before they both settled against his back once more.

After going through his bedtime routine, Donnie gathered up his chosen blanket and pillow and climbed into bed. Analyzing the feeling of this new blanket against his elytra as he lay on his plastron. Hm . It didn’t feel quite right.

Donnie eyed the pile of blankets still in his room.

It was obvious to him that his quality of sleep was not going to improve with this blanket, so he might as well grab another, to see if it felt better.

Pushing the blanket to the side, he reached out and grabbed another blanket from the collection, not bothering to remove the first pink blanket, as he bundled himself up in both of them

….

Again, it wasn’t quite right.

He found himself staring longingly at the pile of blankets once more.

And again, he found himself reaching out, grabbing yet another blanket from the pile, adding it to his growing collection on his bed.

And another.