Chapter Text
Beep
The sound echoes through the lair
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Mikey let out a groan of frustration, his pencil lead snapping against the paper (as it had already done many times before) as he tried to steady himself. That seemed to be the last straw for him. He balled up the paper and threw it across the room into a pile of similarly messed up papers and broken art supplies. Markers with busted tips and brushes with hairs astray from rough treatment. What a waste.
Swelling with emotions, the box turtle sniffled. The boy was frustrated that he couldn't make anything that looked decent, angry that he couldn't even draw a line, and feeling guilty that he'd broken the supplies his brothers had given him before things went to shit.
Hands still trembling, Mikey flopped on his hammock, plastron pressed atop his blankets. He let out a shakey sigh, trying to calm himself down, not in the mood to cry again. Not that he had the energy left in him to do so anyways. But his hands were killing him, physically and mentally.
There was a deep ache in his hands and arms even if he wasn't having 'Flare ups' as he liked to call it. His joints hurt with a constant mix of both tingling and numbing sensations.
Now with his 'Flare ups', that was exactly what it sounded like. His hands would burn and spark, the rectangular lines on his skin would light up and burn more onto him. Despite never lasting more than five minutes (for now), those moments still hurt like hell. His hands would shake out of his control and prevent him from doing anything he wanted to do.
Drawing and cooking had always been something he could do to calm himself down. He loved doing both activities. But as of late, he couldn't do either. No drawing without breaking the supplies, and no cooking without messing it up. Dropping utensils or burning himself in the process, as if he didn't have enough burns already.
A yawn rose in Mikey's throat. All this thinking had made him tired. His hands had finally stopped shaking, to his relief. He rolled over, lying on his shell, bringing his hands up to view. They trembled slightly but not as much as before, the light scars visible even in the dim light of his room, provided by the fairy lights strung up on the ceiling. His arms flopped down to his sides as he let out a sigh, shutting his eyes to try and rest.
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4:27 a.m.
It was almost 4:30 in the morning and he couldn't sleep. Perfect.
The box turtle pulled himself out of his hammock and stretched. Might as well start breakfast early.
He'd been making breakfast still, even with his messed-up hands. It's not like he was being forced to do it or anyone had asked him to continue. He just wanted to be able to do at least something for his family, remaining that is.
You can't really enjoy pancakes while you're in a coma, Leo.
That was a whole can of worms he did not want to think about now, it's already been 3 months since everything happened. Nope! Not thinking about it.
Mikey tiptoed down the halls of the lair as quietly as he could. Everyone should be sleeping anyways. Even Donnie. Mikey had made him promise to do so.
The lights in the kitchen flickered when Mikey turned them on, taking a few moments to stay on completely as the turtle walked in.
He made his way to the pantry and then the fridge, grabbing all the supplies he'd need from them both. After getting all the ingredients on the counter, he got to work.
Three separate large bowls were set out on the counter, all full of pancake batter. Each had its own special ingredients in it. Chocolate chips for Raph. Cinnamon for Donnie, surprising. And last was just plain buttermilk. Mikey adds syrup and topping after. Typically, blueberries are added to the last batch, but no one else likes blueberries besides Leo. Mikey didn't want to waste ingredients.
Mikey looked over at the counter, eyeing the upgraded coffee machine Donnie had made for them all. The last one was loud and annoying. That made grabbing a secret cup at the crack of dawn a challenge on the 'secret' part. Everyone would be at ease with a cup the moment they woke. A little less grouchiness from Donnie and Raph sounds pleasant.
So now it's five in the morning, the smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee fills the lair.
Two hot cups are set on the counter, the turtle turns to grab the third. A fresh cup of pure black coffee. In a matter of just a few seconds, it's ruined.
The cup smashes on the floor, hot coffee splattering all over the floor and Mikey's feet.
He yelps in surprise at the hot liquid hitting his legs and ceramic scattering about.
His eyes move from the mess on the floor to his shaking hands, a whine of annoyance comes up his throat before a scoff comes from behind.
The box turtle whips around, mindful of where he stepped, eyes meeting Donnie's
“Ah! Morning Don!” he exclaims
“Morning dearest Angelo, care to tell why you're in here at-” Donnie stops to glance at his phone, ”3 after 5 o'clock, breaking things?”
Mikey’s hands flew behind his back, "just, y'know.. Butterfingers?” he said with a slight smile, hoping Donnie would not call his bluff.
The softshell squints “Butterfingers? Scoff” he clicks his tongue, a small smile forming on his lips, “and here I thought I was the worst liar in this family”
Mikey sighs, “you caught me” he mumbles, bringing his hands back to the front. They were still shaking.
Donnie walks up to him, holding his own hand out for Mikey to place one of his own onto.
Said turtle does so, placing a shaking hand into Donnie's palm up. A clawed thumb wraps around and presses into his palm.
Mikey whines in discomfort before the pain goes away, Donnie sighs again, bringing his other hand to massage the damaged hand further, “you said you were getting better Angelo”
Mikey looks away, frowning slightly before looking back, “and you said you'd be sleeping” he comments
“And I have-” Donnie says quickly
“Liar, I can see your bags from here, even with the mask on.”
Donnie's grip on Mikey's hand falters slightly before he continues “Sigh. You caught me, as well”
Mikey smiles, "see now we both are liars, so it cancels out "
Donnie glares, a small smile showing on the corner of his mouth, "Spirits Angelo, you need to stop hanging out with Leo"
Mikey chuckles quietly, "learned from the best "
Donnie chuckles, "I think you mean worst"
They both share a small laugh before silence fills the room
"..I miss him" Mikey mumbles, a frown replacing his expression, eyes looking down to the mess on the floor
Donnies quiet for a few moments, "me too Angelo... Me too." He releases Mikey's hands, they stopped shaking a bit ago.
"you say that up until he starts making the terrible jokes again," Mikey says
"A small price to pay. Okay maybe not that small it will be annoying definitely. But I can't wait to hear it again. A Love-Hate relationship if you will. "
Mikey smiles, "oh Dee," he says with a bit of a chuckle.
Silence again, till Mikey perks up, looking up at Donnie,
"We will hear those stupid jokes again, hear him again... right?... " he says in a hushed tone
Donnie stares down at him, expression unreadable
"We better, or I'm taking all the things from his JJ collections"
Mikey rolls his eyes, "I'm serious Dee.."
"And who said I wasn't? " Donnie responds before clearing his throat , looking to the floor, "Now let's get this mess cleaned up"
"Dee.."
"Angelo scoot, you're in the way "
"Don -..."
"Hiss. Scoot, this is gonna stain the floor or cut someone "
"Donnie!"