Work Text:
In front of him, lies a disassembled television set, an interdimensional tuner, more wires than you’d care to count, and a humble turtlecom.
The goal for this evening? Making direct contact with another dimension. Or, universe, actually, to be technical.
You see, not too long ago he’d gotten an unknown ping on his dimensional radar. At the time, he wasn’t able to prioritize it, they’d be dealing with the Shredder and Krang scheme of the week at the time after all.
But then it kept happening . Never one to push something unanswered out of his mind for long, Donatello has finally decided to do something about it. After all, he’s got the afternoon free.
…Unfortunately, their usual mode of dimensional transportation is currently in a state of disrepair. Of the “exploded irreparably” variety.
So, Donatello is forced to work with the scraps he’s got. He has plenty that will prove useful, it’s just a matter of repurposing them.
Now if he could just remember which wire needs to go where…
“ Dona telloooo ~ what in Heavens name are you doing?”
Donatello yelps, whirling around with his wrench raised like a weapon-
Only to find the intruder is nothing more than a smug Raphael standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips.
He clutches the tool to his chest and stammers, “H-hey Raphael! Funny seeing you here.”
Raphael clasps his hands together and pitches his voice up mockingly.
“Ain’t it such a coincidence? Don’t tell me, next we’re going to find out we live together!”
Donatello rolls his eyes, turning back to his work on the TV, “oh please. Like I could forget that.”
…that being said…
He actually sorta did .
This time last week the idea of being interrupted by his fellow turtles while working was a thing of the past, unheard of.
Or, well. Mostly unheard of.
Honestly, working at “Murray’s Fix-It-Shop” isn’t too bad. In theory . He has all the equipment he needs to keep going on his usual experiments, the only downside is he never has the time. Not unless he wants to keep his job that is. Every time he thinks he has the opportunity to do something, that blasted door opens and he has to go help some poor sucker who’s broken their toaster oven.
“Maybe I should invest in cloning myself,” Donatello mumbles moodily, standing on his tippy toes to reach up and grab a box of unused parts on the high shelf. Tragically unused parts, that would be perfect for an invention if only he’d just-
Ding ding ding!
…and the bell tolls.
Not expecting the chime, Donatello had startled, now finding himself in the troubling position of keeping balance on his stepladder perch while the whole thing buckles.
“J-just a second!”
Ding ding ding! Ding ding ding!
A loose gear bonks him right on the nose from the precariously tilted box, and his voice gets more snap to it, “I’m on my way! Just-just give me a minute!”
Ding ding ding! Ding ding ding! Ding ding ding!
Donatello’s eye twitches, and he gives up, angrily throwing the box of spare parts onto the ground. Oh he ought to ring this person's neck!
“Alright! Alright! I’m here! No need to be-“
He skids to a stop.
“…rude…”
Raphael’s wide eyes stare right back at him across the counter.
The silence is deafening . His ears are ringing. Neither of them seem to want to make the first move.
He should have expected this. Raphael isn’t even the first of his teammates he’s seen since they went their separate ways, in fact he’s the last one.
Their goodbyes to each other had just been so final. It’s not fair. How is he meant to accept it when the universe keeps-
“I, um. The heater, in my vans gone funny,” Raphael croaks out finally, and gosh , what happened to his voice?
“Right.”
“If you could, you know, fix it up…? I don’t, have much money, but-“
“No, no. It’s,” Donatello takes a deep breath, then musters all of his strength into a smile, “it’s on the house.”
Raphael for a second looks so grateful he could cry , but to the relief of them both he doesn’t. Just shoves his hands deep into his jacket and rocks back on his heels, avoiding eye contact.
Donatello knows that jacket. He’s got a matching one bundled up in the backroom.
“Is it parked outside?”
“Oh? Eheh, uh-right, yes. Can’t miss it.”
He only laughs like that when he’s uncomfortable…
“I’ll go take a look.”
Just treat him like a regular customer. You’re not a team anymore, it’s already been decided. He isn’t your-
Ding!
Donatello glances back at the younger turtle, who’d gotten distracted, clearly. Raphael gives him a big sheepish smile and hastily tucks his hands back into the jacket.
It’s awkwardly silent after that.
At least with Leonardo it was just stiff forced politeness. Raphael looks like if I don’t say something else he’s going to dive headfirst into his car engine.
“So, uh…how are things?”
“Good, good…”
“Long day at work?”
“Sure. Can you look at the heating system already?”
Well that was a bust.
It’s by then that Donatello finally gets a good look at the vehicle he’s supposed to be working on. Nothing too out of the norm, except-
“ Sing-a-gram? You’re a sing-a-gram?!”
In hindsight, the amount of incredulity in his voice might have been a little much.
Now see, usually, here would be the part where Raphael responds with some form of quick witted or biting comeback. Something like, “what, you think I forgot?” or something equally judgmental.
Instead, Raphael both metaphorically and literally hides in his shell. He doesn’t answer, just hunches and turns away.
Maybe I need to poke him just a little to get a response out of him. For curiosity's sake. Work reasons. I need to know more about what he does to fix his vehicle, obviously.
“So that’s why your voice sounds terrible,” Donatello continues, and ooo. Yeah no that definitely came out too blunt, “you know, there’s tea to help with that.”
“Mhm…”
“How’d you get the job? What sort of gigs do you do?”
Raphael snaps and finally gives him a look, one that reads really? You’re going to keep pressing me on this?
“You gotta give me something to work with here Raphael.”
“I wasn’t aware my heating system was so reliant on the details of my day job.” There he is.
Donatello raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t take long for Raphael to crumble.
“…I do kids birthday parties,” he mutters, and his face matches his mask by turning a lovely shade of red.
Huh. Well, that makes sense, kids love the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Honestly Donatello’s surprised he didn’t think of it, capitalizing on their brand is genius. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stand working with kids long though, and-
Hey, wait a minute!
“But you’re terrible with children!”
“What, you think I forgot?!” Raphael snaps, and he can’t even silently cheer in victory because the other turtles voice hitches up in distress, “it’s all I can get Donatello, I don’t-I’m not…”
Raphael’s voice runs out of steam, and Donatello swallows, not feeling too dissimilar to how he did when he was forcibly swept up into the ocean.
“Surely you have…” Donatello starts, but he trails off, unsure what he was actually going to say. Raphael fills in the gaps how he pleases.
“Yeah? Have what Donatello. Other options? What job can I get with the numerous talents I have under my belt. A mechanic? A dojo owner? A chef? Oh wait .”
He can tell Raphael is trying to pick a fight. That’s all they seem to know how to do now, fight with each other, and Donatello has every right to snap right back. It’s just… the other turtle is acting less like his ex-teammate and more like a wild animal backed into a corner.
…a corner I, admittedly, did kind of put him into. Not my best move.
“You made it pretty good as a comedian that one time, didn’t you?”
“ Sureeee , before I was kidnapped . And last I recall, you guys never even liked my routines!”
Taken aback by Raphael’s venomous tone, Donatello holds up his hands in startled surrender, “I…gee, Raphael, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Raphael’s breath catches. Likely just registering how close he’s gotten, he flinches away, three massive steps back, “I-Donatello, I don’t-I-“
His voice cuts out, but he looks like he didn’t want it to. Donatello can only watch in silence as Raphael visibly struggles to get out what he wants to say, unable to help with whatever mental storm is preventing his next words.
“…my heaters broken,” Raphael gasps out finally, with far more emotion packed into that simple sentence than it should warrant. Donatello swallows stiffly, and nods.
“…I know. Let me get my tool box.”
Raphael makes a noise in the back of his throat, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Despite claiming he was about to get his gear, Donatello feels glued to the spot.
What can I even say? That things are bad for me too? That I understand? It’s quite frankly a miracle I got this job, super genius or not, no one’s exactly jumping at the idea of hiring a mutant turtle. I could, but…
He’s supposed to be a genius. For crying out loud, he has a degree! And this? This was the best he could get? I mean how big of a blow to the ego can you get. All that work, all his achievements, and apparently all it’s worth is working late hours at some dinky repairs store.
Raphael would never respect me again…that’s if he even ever did in the first place.
It’s by then, that the mindless advertisements they’d both been tuning out on the TV end, and both turtles snap their heads over in sync.
The TV is hardly anything impressive, dusty and cheap thing that it is, but it’s been like a lifeboat for Donatello through all of this for one specific reason.
Michelangelo…
“How many shows has he been on by now,” Raphael whispers, and his tone is so warm Donatello would have gotten whiplash if he didn’t also hear how it wavers, “six? Seven?”
“Last show makes it eight.”
Raphael winces in sympathy, “geez, he’s working his way through the entire schedule of daytime television.”
Raphael sneaks closer, under the guise of seeing the screen better no doubt, but Donatello still tenses when he feels the other brush against him. His body feels so unused to the contact, it’s suffocating, but when the other notices and starts to pull away Donatello greedily leans back in. His thoughts are a mess that he doesn’t want to read into, but if he just focuses entirely on the TV, he…
If Raphael’s going to say anything about it, it doesn’t seem like it will be any time soon. They both get absorbed by the cooking show, watching as Michelangelo performs with his big goofy grin. He’s a natural alright, the contents of the pizza might be questionable, but Michelangelo has always had a stage presence you can’t look away from.
Usually because it’s a trainwreck…
It’s easy to imagine they’re back in the lair, Michelangelo demonstrating his latest pizza creation to a much smaller audience. Raphael would be lounging, only cutting in every few minutes with a well timed joke, which Leonardo would gently scold from where he’s earnestly listening to Michelangelo. Albeit probably bewilderedly. Donatello would be in the mix somewhere too, likely making his own comments, and the whole evening would continue to run like a well oiled machine.
Splinter would…
Donatello’s chest suddenly aches , and he clears his throat, letting his words distract himself, “I heard the ratings tanked on the last show after they cut him loose.”
“Ha! Serves them right! You know, some people just don’t know they’ve got something good until it’s…”
Raphael doesn’t finish. Donatello’s relieved. He doesn’t know if he’d have been able to hold himself together if he did.
In fact, he’s still not sure he can.
He needs to get this over with.
Wordlessly, Donatello switches off the TV and gets up. Raphael makes a confused little noise that he forcibly ignores, heading outside to the van. It only takes a few seconds to find the problem inside the vehicle, and once he does, he raises his arm up and whacks DOWN with a wrench.
Raphael must have eventually followed him, because he hears the others alarmed squeak.
“There. All fixed.”
Raphael fidgets, but Donatello doesn’t know what his expression is, too busy double checking the engine, “oh, um, right, t-thanks?”
Don’t look at him, don’t look at him-
He slams the bonnet down, and Raphael jumps , catching his attention against his will.
Aw man…
Guilt immediately swarms in Donatello’s chest when he sees how genuinely off kilter the younger turtle now is. Deer in the headlights is a cliched expression, but…
“…sorry.”
Raphael weakly shakes his head, not saying anything. He’s stepped quite a few feet back now from Donatello, and it makes the genius feel like he’s about to throw up.
Figures. In the process of ‘ripping the Band-Aid’ off he’s just gotten it painfully stuck halfway.
“I’d uh. I’d say I’ll see you around, but…”
“…yeah,” Raphael whispers, “I’d like to say that too.”
“…”
Donatello privately hopes he’s scared Raphael off enough that he’ll make the first move to leave. He’s not sure he can anymore.
He did.
Raphael bolts , and Donatello doesn’t feel good about it at all.
…time to get back to work then I guess.
Hunching his shoulders, Donatello turns and grabs the door handle with blistering fingers. The bone deep exhaustion he’s been suppressing has crashed down on him like one big collapsed building.
There’s the sound of a van window being winded down.
“…say, um. I uh, I stole some birthday cake at the party earlier? If you…wanted to share it…”
Don’t. Don’t do it. You can’t ever move on if you keep having to say goodbye-
“…consider it payment for fixing the van?”
Raphael’s voice is painfully hopeful. It would be so easy to back out now. To ignore what Master Splinter asked of them. They were the two who actually opposed the idea after all-Raphael was right, why should they listen to a man who isn’t even their Sensei anymore?
He could go against orders. Actually talk things out with Raphael, alongside likely sickeningly sweet cake and a hopefully working heater. Just the two of them, they could-
…just the two of them. Because Michelangelo and Leonardo would still be gone.
“I’m not hungry.”
The shop door clicking shut behind him isn’t deafening enough to muffle his brother speeding away.
“-Donatello, Donatelloooo? Are you having a flashback without me?”
Donatello blinks. Oh. Right. Present day.
“Quite the opposite actually, but,” Donatello shakes out his head, clearing it of the leftover scene transition fog, “sorry. Uh, what were we talking about?”
Raphael has a slight pout, “I don’t know . You never answered me.”
…why’d I miss this again?
“I’m looking into that disturbance in the dimensional barriers. The one I told you guys about the other day?”
Raphael snaps his fingers, “Right! The spy! Gee,” he starts playing with his mask tails, “I hope they’ve been getting my good side.”
“Oh please. Just because this person has managed to break through the fabric of reality doesn’t mean they can do the impossible.”
“ A!-“
“I haven’t been able to lock onto the source yet,” Donatello continues, “but I’m hoping if I investigate another dimension they’re connected too I’ll make some progress.”
“…uh huh. And, why do you need the TV for this?”
“To put it simply, our television is incredibly susceptible to dimensional influence , thanks to my dimensional scanner. I did some programming and if I account for the solar winds and wavering dimensional barrier timing while hooking it up with the turtlecom, I think I can-“
“Tell me, do you honestly think I’m following this, or do you just like to hear yourself talk?”
“…I’m making a phone call.”
“Ahhh.”
Hoping he’s satisfied the others curiosity enough to leave him alone, Donatello gets back to work.
Raphael clicks his tongue behind him. Dang it.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we already have dimensional technology? Why are you trying to reinvent the wheel here?”
“It’ll take too long to rebuild the portal,” seeing as his hands are busy, Donatello bites a lead and yanks it out with his teeth, spitting it out before continuing, “This makeshift method should work fine, it’s completely under control.”
Raphael for some reason doesn’t look impressed.
“…it’s when you do these types of things that you worry me, Donatello.”
Donatello sticks out his tongue and decides to ignore him.
Raphael, figuring he won’t get more out of Donatello, leans over the couch and grabs his planning sheet. On it, Donatello had taken the time to narrow down the spied on universe he located to the best candidate. Whoever this “spy” was had quite the alarmingly high count of universes with his energy footprint on them.
“So why this universe in particular?”
“Whenever someone or something travels or interacts with another universe it weakens the walls between them. This dimension in particular has practically paper thin dimensional barriers against ours. Like it had some…pre-existing connection between it and ours.”
Raphael’s brow furrows, “What, like people have already been traveling to and fro without us knowing?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well that’s not disconcerting...”
“It’s definitely something to keep in mind, but for the time being I’m grateful for it. To uh, put it simply, it’s easier to follow a road that’s already built than try to carve your own from scratch.”
“Got it…”
“Are you done pestering me for exposition now?”
“Ah ah ah, one last thing. What does our fearless leader think of all this?”
Donatello finally untangles his arms from the mess of wires he’s gotten stuck in, and hopes Raphael doesn’t realize he’s avoiding eye contact by going behind the TV, “Leonardo doesn’t know yet.”
Raphael rests his chin on his arms, smirking, “ My my, we are being rebellious aren’t we…”
“He knows enough! I’m working on the dimensional spy problem like I said, I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Hence the secrecy.”
“It’s not-secrecy! I just didn’t feel the need to announce the details, Raphael can you just-“
Michelangelo suddenly pokes his head through the doorway, “What’s Donatello doing?”
“Something he’s not supposed to,” Raphael chirps, and Michelangelo makes an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and nods. Donatello bristles.
“
Would you
-get! Both of you! Get out!”
Raphael snorts and ducks the wrench being thrown at him, grabbing the confused Michelangelo and bolting, “RETREAT!”
Donatello lets out an exasperated sigh. They’ll be back.