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The weeks following the Kraang invasion were, to put it simply, sensory hell for Donnie.
Immediately after Leo’s rescue - because they were all firmly unwilling to call it anything else, anything even hinting at sacrifice or death or Leo being left behind - the group hug had been a relief. Like shrugging off the battle shell after a long day, like finally having himself complete again. Holding his twin brother felt like being able to breathe again.
That hug was a necessity.
It was just every touch afterward that he couldn’t stand.
It grew slowly, this sense of wrongness. Nothing he couldn’t ignore, especially after so many years of practice. It started out easy to push down the bite of nausea when Leo practically climbed on top of him, or when Raph would hold his shoulder in that giant grip of his.
Donnie honestly thought it would get better after a few times. Expected it to fade away, returning to the back of his senses.
A week passed, and that didn’t happen. What happened, instead, was this.
Early one morning, getting a headstart in the lab, Donnie carefully reattached Shelldon’s wires. It was a tricky repair, and his nerves were a little shot from being awoken by Leo’s nightmares that night, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.
They all had nightmares, now. Not at the same time, not in a decently coordinated way, but it came with a sense of comradely all the same. They all learned quickly how to talk the others down from one, how to coach themselves and others through panic and fear, how to fall back asleep. Donnie knew Leo would prefer cuddling until they slept again, but he seemed content with Donnie simply being in the same room as him. Donnie was grateful - touching began grating more and more on his mind, more slimy and dangerous and overwhelming-
Now, in the daylight, the nightmares seemed so far away. Donnie sparked the wires, pausing to examine how secure they were, debating whether he could excuse a break already.
A pair of arms grabbed him from behind, wrapping around his shell. The shell that was too bandaged to allow wearing any sort of protection, and was therefore nearly bare.
He didn’t remember his reaction. These moments were always hazy and fuzzy in his mind afterward, like trying to grab at smoke.
What he did remember was being on the floor, huddled in the corner, Bo staff out and armed. In front of him, hands curled in on themselves and nearly desperate with worry, was Mikey.
‘Apologize,’ his mind supplied Donnie instantly. And he would have, except he could feel the tentacles crawling along his shell, breaking and splitting and slicing through. Could feel his consciousness expanding to the entire ship, to every horrible act the Kraang had ever done. The goo dripped through his fingers, and he could feel it covering him all over again-
“Breathe, Dee,” Mikey said calmly, though his face was still a pinched fearful. He reached out before aborting the motion, instead coming to rest on the floor. “Deep breaths, come on. It’s okay.”
And somehow, knowing Mikey wasn’t going to try touching again made him relax. The staff clattered out of his hands, neither of them phased by the noise.
He was sure they’d look ridiculous to their brothers, sitting on the floor when there were perfectly good chairs available. But Mikey didn’t seem to mind, softly coaching Donnie while his heartbeat slowed and the faint ringing in his ears faded.
It took another ten minutes of mindless reassurance- sure, he counted the seconds, sue him - before Donnie no longer felt the phantom pain of the ship. Tentatively, he scrubbed one hand over his face, and Mikey cut off whatever he was saying.
“Sorry about that,” he started immediately, wincing at how gritty his voices sounded. Mikey didn’t seem to notice.
“Don’t. That’s what brothers are for,” Mikey countered, giving a half-smile. “Wanna tell me what that was, though? I don’t want to hurt you again. I’m really sorry I did.”
“You didn’t know,” Donnie said. He tried to stand on his own, waving Mikey off just a bit too insistently before he could duck in to help. “It’s…ever since the ship, I keep…I keep feeling like I’m back there. Back in the… living machine stuff.”
It was difficult to describe without feeling gross all over again, but thankfully, Mikey recognized that too. He even turned green - more green than usual, at least - for a second. He was there for it, Donnie remembered abruptly.
“I’m so sorry, Donnie,” he blurted, gagging a little. “That was so disgusting, no wonder you don’t feel good! Is there anything I can do?”
Donnie paused, considering. His hands were steady enough that he could try working on Shelldon again, but emotionally, he just felt drained.
“I just need some time to process,” Donnie said, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. As if he didn’t have a panic attack a few minutes ago over a wayward hug. Speaking of hugs... “And, um. Less touching, if…if that’s okay.”
It wasn’t an odd request. The turtles were fully aware of how Donnie tended to enjoy their hugs less, or sometimes needed his own space. Which was fine, most of the time, and they were pretty good at respecting his personal bubble, but he wondered if that would still hold up now, after everything they’d been through.
“Of course,” Mikey agreed. His body language softened, fond and relieved for his brother, and the apprehension rushed out of Donnie at the sight of it.
He hesitated for a long second, worried it might undercut his request, but after a quick second, he patted Mikey’s plastron.
“Thanks, bro,” he said gratefully, retracting his hand. Touch felt more manageable right now if he was the one controlling it. Just a small buzzing from his fingertips that vanished once it was by his side again. Mikey lit up - physical love language, after all - and perched on the desk beside Donnie brightly.
“So what are we up to, Dee?” he asked, patient and curious, and Donnie was endlessly grateful for his little brother.
That night, Mikey must have told the rest of them about Donnie’s growing sensory issues, because dinner was no longer a painful event full of bumps and jostling and itching under his skin. Instead, there was a careful distance maintained. When Leo dramatically draped himself across the seats, his arm stayed around Donnie’s chair instead of his shell. Raph passed the plates, fingers skillfully dodging Donnie’s. The normally-tactile Mikey dragged his chair an extra foot away from Donnie, calculated so their knees wouldn’t even brush.
Donnie’s heart was so full, eyes wet with unbidden tears, and just smiled at his brothers.
Part of him wanted to feel guilty. But in a way, they were ninjas - it was nearly a game to them. How to keep Donnie close without touching, how to engage without physical contact. A line they’d always walked as kids, re-emerging again. And it was unspoken that they’d all be willing to die for each other; playing keep-away was the least they could do for him.
Donnie loved his dorky brothers.
————
In the end, it took three weeks before finally, finally, Donnie felt safe in his skin again.
It was a long process, and he woke up in blind panic more times than he could count because the blanket rubbed him in just the wrong way. Some days he felt floaty and disconnected from the world around him, like his body wasn’t truly his own. Other days he could still feel the Kraang ship swallowing him alive, slimy tentacles constricting him.
Through it all, his brothers never once complained. Everyone had their own struggles, and the family that was already so close suddenly seemed to understand each other a lot more. Other than an occasional accidental bump, there were no unexpected touches, no pain, no overwhelming sensory issues.
Tonight they’d scheduled a movie night. Everyone set up camp on the floor in front of the television, stuffed with pillows and blankets and every stuffed animal Mikey and Leo owned. Currently, Leo was attempting to wrestle with Raph, who very easily outmatched him in strength. The snapping turtle allowed himself to be put into a headlock without any defense, punctuated by Mikey’s high-pitched shrieks of laughter and cheering.
Without any particular reason why, Donnie decided it was time for a hug.
He didn’t often seek out hugs from his brothers as a general rule, preferring to show his love in other ways. Buying games and toys, for instance, or building them tech to keep them safe. Making cars and bikes he knew they’d love, simply because they enjoyed it.
But sometimes, hugs were nice, too.
“Hey guys?” he said quietly. All eyes darted to him, and he tried not to snicker when Raph took advantage of Leo’s distraction to scruff him. “I, uh…thank you guys, for giving me space this month. I really needed it.”
He was met with three gigawatt smiles. Mikey flopped down on the blanket beside him, still with that precious space between them. “Of course, Dee,” he answered, grinning.
Raph, with a mischievous look, dumped Leo directly on top of Mikey. Both scrambled with yelps of displeasure, and Leo twisted into a flip straight over Donnie, landing effortlessly on the other side. “Whatever you need, Don,” Raph said solemnly, plopping at their feet. “The aftermath was hard on everyone, but we’re all in this together.”
“I know,” Donnie said. For a moment he wished he knew how to express the big, warm feeling in his chest. The feeling that was overwhelming affection and gratitude to his brothers, that always seemed so impossible to show.
Oh well. He was willing to try, now.
“Group hug?” Donnie asked, stretching out his arms.
There was no true way to gauge who got there first, because they were all already so close and they were ninjas after all, but Donnie’s bet was on Leo. His twin brother moved the quickest out of any of them, and Donnie knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he thought making a portal would get him to the hug faster, he’d do it. Leo stuck to his side like he was glued there. Mikey wormed in under Donnie’s other arm, clinging like his life depended on it, and Raph scooped them all up effortlessly.
For a second, Donnie expected to feel terrible again, that suctioning, sticky darkness that haunted him since the ship. Maybe just his own issues with touch, from before they’d even dreamed of being grown-ups, where he’d squirm and shy away from any kind of physical contact.
But right now, he just felt safe. Protected.
“This okay, Donnie?” Leo asked, propping his chin on Donnie’s shoulder.
He didn’t always enjoy touch, the way his brothers constantly seemed to. Still, for tonight…
“Yeah,” Donnie said, closing his eyes and smiling, trusting his weight to his brothers. “Yeah, this is good.”