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When they were younger, Leo and Donnie shared a room.
Every night, they would be tucked in by their father on opposite ends of the room, laying in bed politely until the lights were off and the doors were closed. Then, they would sit up and talk.
Leo found he could never fall asleep right. He was always too awake to sleep, his brain and body in constant motion. The slider hated when he was the only one awake, tossing and turning as quietly as he could in an effort to get comfortable. He always ended up waking his twin.
Donnie simply didn’t like sleeping. There was always stuff to be done, though he was a lot less busy as a tot. So he’d stay up too, keeping Leo company until they both pass out.
It was easier then, when they were young, to whisper anything and everything in the dark. They were closer then, with the constant late-night secret sharing.
Then they grew up.
They started going on missions, Donnie started staying in the lab later than usual, until he moved his bedroom there to make the transition from work to rest easier.
Nightmares were always a common thing, but it got worse after their first real fight.
When they were younger, Leo and Donnie shared a room. That made it a lot easier for them to comfort the other after a nightmare, usually ending up sleeping on the same bed, limbs intertwined. It was usually Leo who helped Donnie; during those nights the softshell would sleep with his back pressed against the wall, Leo’s own shell facing the room, providing a barrier between any possible bad-guys and his delicate twin.
(And if Donnie’s first battleshell was modeled after Leo’s, he’d never say why.)
Over time, things changed. Donnie stopped going to his brother after each nightmare, though Leo never grew out of asking to be cuddled after his own night terrors.
Which was good, because ever since the Kraang, Leo hasn’t slept properly.
Neither has Donnie, actually, but for a different reason. He had a lot of work to do. A good portion of his tech was destroyed, important tech that needed to be fixed.
Sure, running on fifteen minute naps every other day was unhealthy, but it was also unhealthy to be unconscious when their bases fortification was down.
And so he was up at— what time was it?
Donnie moved to check, but his limbs were weighted with exhaustion. He blinked, finding it much harder to keep his eyes open than before.
He was supposed to be working, but his face was glued to the desk, the unfinished motherboard creating an indent on his cheek.
It would still be there when he woke up. It would be fine if he rested his eyes for just a second.
Donnie had just closed his eyes when the alarm system was triggered, showering the lair in red light. He shot up, a lot more awake than he was before, and ran from the lab. He searched frantically, panic growing each second he was unsuccessful in locating his family.
“Donnie!”
He whipped around, tripping over his feet on the way to the kitchen. There was a loud screeching, the metal ceiling of the lair being torn. Donnie skidded to a halt at the doorway, eyes wide and breath frantic.
“Leo!”
His twin was desperately clinging to debris to stay grounded, a giant portal in the New York sky pulling him in. Or no, it wasn’t the portal, it was it.
The Kraang, furious and terrifying, was reaching from the inside, claws only meters away from the slider. Donnie choked, activating his tech bō as he pushed himself forward, stumbling over the broken remains of their home.
He grabbed onto Leo’s arm, aiming the bō upwards and sending a fleet of bombs from the tip.
The Kraang growled, waving away the bombs as if they were nothing more than an annoying bug. The alien pulled itself through the portal, landing above the twins, the red eye of the robotic suit staring threateningly down at them.
Donnie couldn’t breathe.
The Kraang lifted an arm, heavy metal sending the softshell flying towards an adjacent wall. His battleshell took the damage with a loud crunch, but Donnie couldn’t feel anything.
“Leo!” He cried again, limbs useless beside him.
Leo lifted his head, blood pooling from his lips, but he wasn’t looking at Donnie.
The Kraang approached Leo. Donnie choked on a sob, begging his body to move, to do something.
The Kraang’s arm lifted, claws glinting in the red light.
Donnie had just closed his eyes when he jolted upwards, a strangled noise pushing from his throat. He could distantly hear someone hyperventilating, and he searched the room for a second before realizing it was him.
He inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his face.
It was a dream. A stupid dream. They were safe, the Kraang were gone, Leo was home.
Leo was—
Donnie threw himself off the chair, tripping over himself. He scrambled out of his lab, just barely remembering to be quiet because his family is sleeping and they’re in danger—
He’d never been so relieved to see the medbay.
Barely composed, Donnie slid open the doors, tension leaking out of him at the sight of his twin in the bed, bandaged and home and safe.
He exhaled, relaxing as he turned to leave.
“Donnie?”
He startled, whipping around. Leo was sitting up, watching the softshell curiously as he reached for the lamp on his bedside table.
“Leo. You’re supposed to be asleep,” Donnie said, schooling his features to their constant emotionless look. Leo was not convinced.
“I have insomnia, we know this. You don’t have to check on me for another three hours. What’s up?”
Donnie ignored him, checking the time on his wrist-tech. 3:47 AM. Not the worst time to be awake.
“Nothing is up,” he said, placing a hand on his face to forget the sight of his twin being pulled through a portal, away from them and back into that forsaken prison dimension. It wasn’t real, that’s not what happened.
“Uh-huh,” Leo hummed. “Yeah, okay, come here.”
Leo scooted over on the bed, patting the empty space.
Oh.
They hadn’t done this since they were kids.
Donnie sighed, closing the door of the medbay as he shuffled over to the bed.
“Nu-uh, no battleshell. Take it off, Dee,” the slider ordered.
“Leo—“
“No. Battleshell.”
It was 3:49 AM, he wasn’t in the mood for arguing.
With another huff of breath, Donnie clicked the release on the shell, letting it clatter to the ground.
Damn, his shoulders were sore.
Satisfied, Leo patted the bed again.
The two settled down, the softshell making a point to cross his arms as he laid on the (so so soft) bed.
“Sooo,” Leo started, curling his arms around his twin protectively. “You wanna talk about it?”
Donnie picked at the bandages wrapped around the slider’s arms, smoothing down the fabric every time it raised. He thought for a second.
“Not right now,” he said. Leo hummed in response.
“Okay. That’s fine. You will talk about it eventually, though.”
“I know.”
Donnie stopped messing with the bandages, choosing instead to rub along the bare skin of Leo’s hand, patting it gently each time he caught himself pressing down too hard.
“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered, letting his head fall against the slider’s shoulder. Leo, in turn, rested his cheek on Donnie’s head.
“I won’t, I promise,” he said softly.
Donnie huffed a laugh.
“You fucking better.”
Leo chuckled, reaching over to turn off the lamp again. Once it was dark, he settled down, brushing his free hand over the top of Donnie’s soft shell.
“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and go to sleep.”
It didn’t take long for that to happen. Even Leo found himself drifting off, curled around his brother as if he’d never let go. He’d promised he wouldn’t.
When they were younger, Leo and Donnie shared a room.
Even though they’ve grown, that much has not changed.