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donatello yawns, tinkering with his latest attempt at a handheld grappling hook, when raphael knocks on his door and then lets himself in without waiting for a response.
it’s already past midnight, and he knows he’s told his brothers multiple times to wait until he gives them permission to enter, but seeing as raphael is followed by the scent of pitch black coffee, bitter and acrid and just how donatello likes it, he can’t really bring himself to put up a huff over it. not that he’d listen even if he did. he doesn’t grace him with a response either, though, instead holding one hand out for his thermos of sweet sweet liquid death.
he’s usually more talkative, but working on the fiddly bits of tech has kept him up late several nights in a row, enough that he even snapped at april once before immediately launching into a tirade of apologies. not his best moment, admittedly, but at least moderately less embarrassing than the way he had tripped himself over his own bo staff in training the other day. michelangelo’s laughter was the loudest, but not quite loud enough to hide the snickers from everyone else.
the thermos is a welcome weight in his hand, which he didn’t even realize started cramping from the long hours spent gripping various tiny tools. the warmth is pleasant, and he takes a moment to just exist, sighing. he gets a bemused glance from raphael for his effort as the other opens his own thermos. donatello turns back to his desk, screwing open the top and idly toying with it as he wonders for the thousandth time if he could just smash the various hooks and metal bits across his desk with a hammer and hope it worked out.
it’s as he goes to drink his coffee that he realizes the smell is wrong. figuring he probably grabbed raphael’s instead of his on accident, he takes a little sip anyway, recalling how raphael has his coffee black as well- and then promptly freezes in surprise at the monstrosity that hits his tongue. there’s enough sugar in the single sip he took to knock out michelangelo for a day, and so much milk that the coffee may as well be for scent instead of flavor. he pulls the thermos away from himself in mild disgust, and then has it yanked out of his hand entirely.
raphael seems to be exhibiting signs of what donatello has affectionately dubbed his “if I glare hard enough, they’ll think I’m angry, not blushing” behavior, a truly chilling stare turned on donatello as raphael holds his thermos to his chest and pretends his face isn’t pretty much on fire. he shoves the thermos he had originally taken at donatello, who takes it, bemused in return, and glances up at his brother for an explanation
“gave you the wrong thermos. didn’t want your nasty coffee this late at night.” he bites out, and donatello would have easily written it off as one of his general moods, if it weren’t for the slightly embarrassed look raphael shot him and the thermos in his hands.
“you, uh . . you didn’t have any of mine, did you?” the question is said in a tone that donatello rarely hears from the hotheaded turtle, and without thinking he shakes his head in an attempt to soothe it away. raphael sounds best when he’s angry, or excited, not this weird nervous and shameful tone he’s taken over something as small as his preference in coffee. the white lie seems to be enough to placate him, anyway, and he sighs in relief before stomping out of donatello’s lab without letting donatello say anything or giving him so much as a goodbye.
the genius turns back to the contraption on his desk, but different gears are already turning in his head. never let it be said that donatello let sleeping dogs lie.
-
that was the first recorded incident of raphael’s inexplicable behavior in relation to coffee. it wasn’t the last, by any means, but donatello is starting to realize that what he’d assumed was a strange new shift in taste instead seems to be his brother’s normal- just very well hidden from prying eyes. when donatello wakes up (or makes his way out of the lab after an all nighter) in time to greet raphael in the kitchen, he can never catch him in the act of adding anything to his coffee.
no matter how carefully he looks, or tries to catch reflections in various spoons and plates, it’s only apparent that raphael does add something by the fact that the sugar container is suddenly moved closer, or by the fact that the milk is on the counter out of nowhere. small little occurrences that only happen when he’s turned around start to pile up until he catches a glimpse of the light brown concentrated sugar rush held in raphael’s cup.
truth be told, donatello is almost impressed at how well raphael is covering his actions. he’s well aware that they’re all ninjas and more than capable of stealth, but it’s another thing to see the most brash of their quartet hide in plain sight. even with michelangelo or leonardo in the room, he easily flicks items here and there, sleight of hand combined with an extraordinarily keen eye to brew his coffee in the overly sweetened way he seemingly prefers behind everyone’s back.
if donatello hadn’t already been watching him like a hawk, he never would’ve caught on to the actions. it’s sort of fascinating, how raphael feels the need to go behind their backs and perfect something as odd as a method of making coffee in a way that disguises how it truly tastes. the urge to catalogue and prod and question stirs as it always does when he’s confronted with some new facet of his brothers to observe, although it’s rare for it to be raphael that’s the object of his curiosity.
it’s not that his brother was two dimensional- very far from it, in fact, enough that he’d say raphael may even be the most complex of his brothers. it’s just that any gentle poking at him was met with a very much not gentle punch, and careful questioning went over as well as a lead balloon. donatello’s not a big fan of unnecessary pain, and so his curiosity is mostly left unanswered and unexplored.
but this strange aversion to coffee is harmless, and raphael hasn’t caught on that he’s caught on, so the risk of his face meeting a fist in the near future is relatively low. never zero, knowing raphael, but about as low as it gets. all that’s left now is to isolate the actual problem, run a few experiments, and mentally note the results. then he gets to bask in the fact that he knows a little something about his brother that no one else does.
his hypothesis so far is “the stronger the coffee, the stronger raph’s aversion,” which is easily testable and the only thing he can think of, to be honest. he already has a few ideas on how to conduct a few experiments on the topic, and also sketches up a side theory somewhere along the lines of “raphael is embarrassed by not liking coffee.”
-
the results are inconclusive. raphael displays an expected preference for his sugar-laden version of coffee, but he doesn’t seem to mind donatello’s attempts at making a stronger coffee for him, either. there’s the occasional wrinkle of his nose or a muttered “shell, donnie, you trynna keep me up for a week straight with this?” but nothing that would indicate a serious aversion.
even getting various coffee-flavored foods doesn’t have much of an effect on him. he does turn it around to tease donatello a bit, picking on him for the sudden obsession he displays over coffee, but there isn’t any dislike towards the foods, and he even takes a few extras of the various coffee-flavored treats he’d found.
perhaps he’s looking at this wrong. he had first assumed it was a negative factor that turned raphael away from darker coffee, but he may have misinterpreted his embarrassment and secretive behavior. perhaps, instead of aversion the flavor of coffee, it was a positive factor influencing his decision. all donatello knows so far is that raphael likes to put a lot of sugar and milk in his coffee, and seems to have a preference towards the sweeter coffee flavored foods.
his brain catches on that, now that he sits down and thinks over everything. if there was anything raphael would be embarrassed by, it’d be something that makes him look weaker, in his weird human-influenced idea of the word. it seems like something that would be the polar opposite of raphael’s carefully curated image- sweets don’t mix well with the “threatening tough guy who’ll eat your bones for breakfast” vibe he does his best to put off.
perhaps that’s exactly why he’s been so secretive about his actions? if he was so careful hiding his preference in coffee, it would stand to reason that he’d hide any other leanings towards sweets, as well- any time he’d take anything from whatever donatello brought back, he’d do it when he thought no one else was looking. are sweets the issue?
with a quick mental edit, another theory is born. this one may be mildly more painful to test, if raphael feels threatened by donatello’s sudden approaches, but sacrifices must be made in the name of science. tomorrow, he’ll test if his new hypothesis of “the higher the sweetness, the higher raph’s attraction,” holds true, already sketching out plans and different experiments to try.
-
the first test goes off without a hitch, this time. with some carefully worded requests and a few favors pulled, michelangelo had made brownies (after extensive researching and testing on donatello’s part to make sure they could safely consume chocolate, of course) and went around offering anyone he saw a plate.
raphael turns down the first plate, which is a point in donatello’s (edited) side theory of “raphael is embarrassed by liking sweets,” but accepts the second one after much pleading and cajoling from the youngest turtle. donatello “just so happens” to be passing through the hallway when he bites into one, and watches in fascination as his hotheaded brother cringes and complains about the sugar content straight to michelangelo’s face while quietly nabbing another brownie from the plate.
later, brownies continue to disappear from the refrigerator, and donatello would’ve chalked it up to his brothers taking them if he hadn’t specifically asked both leonardo and michelangelo to hold off on eating them for a little while. that took even more called in favors in order to silence the questions, but it does confirm that raphael is the one steadily making his way through them.
-
after a few more experiments, most involving mysteriously left out sweets and on one occasion casey's presence, he decides it’s time to put his new knowledge to use. the final test could be risky. not in any actually dangerous way, honestly; donatello just doesn’t want to be punched. it’s worth it to find out if raphael’s sweet tooth is something he can exploit, though- the practical applications, anything from getting raphael to stay in bed while injured to getting assistance in his lab, could make his life better by leaps and bounds.
and so, armed with a handful of some fancy raffaello candy he’d asked april (with minimal stuttering this time!) to buy for him, he pokes his head into the main lair, approaching raphael only once he’s sure they’re the only two in the room. careful moves and a projected aura of calm are the key to ensuring he gets out of the interaction without any new bruises.
“hey, raph, do you want some of these things? I found a box of them last time I went to the junkyard.” he watches as raphael glances over, and then does a visible double take at the candy he’s being presented with. donatello stares in awe as his brother takes one almost reverently , popping it into his mouth and chewing sedately. perhaps he’d found a candy raphael had a heavy preference towards?
he never thought he’d apply the adjective “adorable” to his hotheaded brother, but that’s the only word that comes to mind as he watches him. it takes everything in his power to not squeal at the way raphael clearly relishes the sweet taste- he must make some kind of noise anyway, because raphael looks up as if suddenly remembering he’s in the room with him, eyes wide like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.
“you tell anyone ‘bout this, and I’ll set your lab on fire.” is growled at him, but the effect is undermined by the grabby hands raphael keeps giving the rest of the candy in his hand. donatello acquiesces without much fuss, stifling a laugh at the way raphael oh-so carefully unwraps the raffaellos. raphael, raffaello . . .
“anything you say, raphaello.” he grins, ignoring the glare sent his way. his brother isn’t really that intimidating with his face stuffed full with sweets. he’s sort of tempted to snap a picture, but that would probably break the soft atmosphere they’ve curated here on the couch. instead, he just silently hands over the rest of the box, lounging back and letting his brother enjoy himself.
-
the nickname he’d jokingly used sticks, which is both a positive and a negative. the way raphael quiets and acquiesces whenever donatello slips and calls him over with a quick “raphaello, can you help out?” is quickly becoming his favorite of raphael’s moods- and perhaps he’s stopped slipping up as much and started doing it on purpose instead, who’s to tell? on the other hand, leonardo has several times jolted to stare at him when he does so, mouthing the word to himself and turning his keen eye onto raphael next.
michelangelo hasn’t heard donatello’s use of the new nickname yet, but he can already imagine the teasing raphael would undergo if the youngest caught wind of it. as amusing as it would be, raphael would also probably insist he stop calling him raphaello, and donatello was not willing to compromise on that, so for now michelangelo remained unaware.
his other brothers also remained unaware of his new bribery methods. he’s pretty sure he was always raphael’s favorite brother, but that was mostly due to his stronger dislike of leonardo and michelangelo. now, as he sneaks whatever candy he manages to acquire to his brother at the end of the day, he can safely say he’s the favorite because he’s a walking sweets dispenser. it has its merits, along with a few unintended but very interesting side effects.
side effects he sort-of-kind-of feels bad taking advantage of, but not bad enough to stop. for some reason, finding out raphael favored sweets has lifted a floodgate. his brother shows up in donatello’s lab late at night, thermos for him in hand, and they just chat about anything and everything, from discussing their most recent mission and that day’s training regime to griping about michelangelo’s pranks and leonardo’s nagging.
the topics aren’t always heavy, but every so often donatello finds out a new insecurity or concern that raphael harbors, usually stuttered out or said in as many flowery words as possible. it breaks donatello’s heart to think of his strong, infallible brother keeping all of this so close to his chest, trying not to concern anyone else or seem weak, so he gives him an extra bit of candy on those nights in his best attempt at comfort.
it’s a bit of a shock to realize how underappreciated raphael feels. even donatello’s incredible memory struggles to recall the last time master splinter had spared his brother a compliment, and suddenly all of the times raphael awkwardly complimented his inventions whenever he felt down made sense . the stumbling but genuine praise directed his way so that he didn’t feel the way raphael probably does on a daily basis holds a new meaning, and he resolves to return it as much as possible- he also mentally plans the possibility of trying to convince his other brothers that positive reinforcement is a decent motivator.
that particular revelation drives donatello to start carrying around candy on him at all times. after missions, after arguments, sometimes just when he feels like it, he hands his hotheaded brother some candy and a smile. the way raphael lights up, even if he tries hiding it, is a step in correcting master splinter’s neglect by counteracting it.
the word “neglect” leaves a bitter taste in his mouth even as he thinks it, but there’s not really another word to describe their father’s behavior. he doesn’t like thinking about it too deeply, because then he starts noticing little things, like master splinter only giving him his time of day when he gets an invention to work, or the way he only gives michelangelo praise when he masters a new move and never for the artwork or other creative efforts he pursues.
this isn’t about him, although he does eventually plan on trying out the stealth praise tactic on michelangelo. it’s about his secretly favorite brother, who doesn’t receive so much as a glance from their father even when he moves through his training effortlessly and with a perfection to match leonardo. if it takes selling some of his inventions online for money and buying him candy to let him know he’s appreciated, then that’s what he’ll do.
it’s all worth it to see how raphael lights up, gravitating towards him over all of his other brothers. who knew something as small as a coffee mix up could end up being the catalyst for new discoveries about raphael?
-
donatello jumps as the door to his laboratory slams open, leonardo and michelangelo similarly whirling to face the entrance from where they were discussing the purple dragon’s behavior on their recent missions. raphael had deemed the whole thing boring and headed to the showers, but the hothead now stands in the doorway and points an accusatory finger at donatello, enraged.
“you god damn bastard! you and your damned candy- you were fucking training me to talk about my feelings, weren’t you?! I know you gave me extra whenever I opened up!” michelangelo and leonardo look painfully confused while the words slowly process in donatello’s brain.
now that he looks back on it, he did lean very heavily into the whole “positive reinforcement” thing, although it was mostly an attempt to soothe raphael by distracting him with something he liked. that he was, in fact, “training” him via pleasant stimulus had never crossed his mind, and yet thinking back to how raphael progressively got more loose-lipped and more grabby towards the candy, he wonders how he missed such clear signs of that exact behavior.
the punch delivered straight to donatello’s plastron, courtesy of their pissed off resident hothead, hurts like a bitch- especially when he can’t quit laughing long enough to stop aggravating the new bruises.