Work Text:
Evidently, Salami is not a very good weapon. It does the job just fine for Sandro Hamato, though. Loud SMACKS can be heard echoing throughout the entire warehouse. Most miss—and no, Raph, he's not going to train—but every one that hits earns a cheer from the Green Turtle, and a groan from the others.
“I just don't see why you use swords when we have perfectly good lunch meat.” he side-eyes Leo, the leader of the fight. A couple more slaps echo followed by the shredding of paper ninjas.
“Meat does little to no damage.” Paper shreds under his sword. “We gotta strike 'em hard and fast. This was an in and out mission, Sandro. Not-”
“Not a slap fight. Yeah, I know.”
Leo sighs, continuing to shred the ninjas and dance around remaining foot clan members. In the rooms next door, Raph and Mikey can be heard scrambling for the Key. Casey and Donnie are on the roof, preparing the Turtle Tank for a quick ride home after the fight.
Groans and a loud thud break Leo out of his rhythm, curbing both of their attentions to the door. They got it- they actually got the key!
“GO GO GO GO” Raph shouts, carrying Mikey in one arm and the key in the other. The thud of his feet shook the entire warehouse. Before Sandro could process it, Raph was scooping him up and following Leo out.
“I'm not a baby, Raphael.”
“You have a slow reaction time. Also never call me by my full name again, San.” Quieter, he added, “Only dad can do that.”
The 5 turtle brothers and their companion, Casey JR, piled into the tank and took off towards the sewers.
While the rest of the Hamato clan celebrated their victory, Sandro found himself in the corner of the lair, sulking. He wasn't entirely sure why. They had saved the world, so why did he feel so upset? Instead of trying to figure it out, he just cried silently. It's easier to let go of problems than to figure them out.
His plans are foiled when Raph walks in.
“You okay, big guy?” he softly pries
“Yep. I'm fine!” Sandros voice breaks. An easy tell.
“Your marks are running and you're shaking.”
“Yeah. I need a Raph hug.” he admits
Raph softly sighs and wraps his arms around Sandro. His grip is gentle, maneuvered to limit spike contact, but firm to reassure his brother. Raph feels something wet on his shoulder and then giggles.
“I’m getting snot all over you” Sandro laughs, tears still streaming down his face. Raph gives him a look.
“It's probably deserved. So. What's goin on, buddy?” Raph pulls away and his eyes soften as they connect with Sandro’s.
“I just- I feel– there's-” Sandro waves his hands frustratedly. “I feel like- hooo. I feel like I don’t have my own identity. I'm just a copycat trying to fit in. I fight with salami, Raph. I am a joke and even dad-” he sighs. “Even splinter forgets about me.”
Sandro tenses as he sees Raph’s face. He overshared. Now they're going to worry too hard. Shit.
Raph pulls him back into the hug, this time much harder. It sounds like he's sniffling?
Sandro paused. “Raph?” he mumbles- muffled by the hug
“I promise to you that you aren't a joke.” Ralph’s voice strains, threatening to break. “You are my baby brother and you do not need to have any of this figured out.”
Oh.
Oh.
Raph’s in brother mode. Somehow that makes Sandro cry harder. He's almost worried that he's going to break skin with how tight he's holding his brother.
“I'm scared.” he whispers through tears, more to himself than his brother.
“I know. That's okay. You’re okay.” Raph comforts him. Sits with him for hours, rubbing soothing circles into his shell.
And that's how the others find him; curled into Raphs side, both asleep peacefully. Sandros mask has some staining from the running marker, which has now dried, and an almost comedic crease in his forehead. They decide that a turtle pile does sound pretty good right now.