Work Text:
It’s been about 13 hours since Donnie holed up in his lab, give or take. A scenario as normal and non-concerning as Raph breaking another punching bag, or Mikey accidentally blowing up the kitchen after wanting to try a viral recipe, or Leo being a pain in the ass. At least he thinks it’s normal. Dee isn’t one for social cues, and when one of the bastards walks in to tell him it’s time for dinner after working in the lab all day, he finds himself staring at their face, unable to read the implications behind what they're saying. That’s not today's problem though. Today's problem is much worse.
Donnie is about to throw up.
It’s an embarrassing thing to be upset about. This is Hamato Donatello we’re talking about, crime-fighting ninja whose tech never spontaneously explodes during missions for no reason, no dear brothers, how dare you accuse me of such a thing. Donnie isn’t a stranger to near-death circumstances, yet here he is. Crying over nausea. His ancestors would disprove.
He knows he can’t change it, but sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so weak. He knows his brothers are hypersensitive about his softshell, even an idiot could see that. He’s not as fast, or strong, or agile as they are. His shitty immune system makes him constantly ill, which is really funny when you live in a sewer, where germs were basically invented. He’s sure the universe is laughing at his fate. Guffawing even. He cleans his room and washes his hands, but no matter how hard he tries to prevent it he gets sick. Again. And again. And again. How come his mutation could make him heal faster than the average human by an alarming rate, but still fail him in such a basic way? It’s infuriating. Scoff, but an angrier one. Angry scoff. He should trademark that.
He has emergency blankets and pillows in his lab for this reason. If he’s locked in his room, it’s fair game for anyone to start breaking his door down. People are more careful when it comes to his lab. He’d be more annoyed at being babied if he wasn’t grateful for the chance to be completely unbothered. Nobody wants to deal with the aftermath of interrupting Donnie mid-hyperfocus. Still, there’s a small part of him that wishes someone would break out the chainsaw and have at his security system. He’d be furious, that’s a given, but he’s not sure how much longer he can take dealing with his worst fear alone.
Currently, Donnie is laying on a sleeping mat, with about three blankets covering him and a bunch of Raph’s stolen plushies. He knows logically that these aren’t the weighted blankets he keeps in his room, but they sure feel weighted. He feels awful. Ever since he’s been awake he’s been crying on and off, from headaches or throat pains or body aches. He feels his body failing him. That’s not the worst part though.
Donnie is about to throw up.
Nausea isn’t a small thing for Donnie. It brings an all-encompassing fear, a horrible feeling that only makes his stomach churn more. He knows throwing up is no big deal. God knows how many times he’s tried to tell someone he’s about to throw up, just to be told that throwing up is better than staying in pain. He might be emotionally inept, but he’s not stupid. He knows he’s delaying the inevitable, He knows it’s better to get it out of his system sooner. Just the thought of throwing up, however, makes him start crying again. He’s more than content staring at the ceiling and praying his refusal to move will help the feeling in his stomach. But no matter what he does, it doesn’t go away.
He whines again. He feels absolutely pathetic. Atomic Lass wouldn’t approve of this kind of weakness. His brothers wouldn’t either. They can barely handle him being born with a softer shell, there’s no way they’d correctly handle his completely irrational phobia. They’d make fun of him. Worse, they’d baby him even more. Maybe this would be the push they need to finally kick him off the team. His tech doesn’t make up for the everything else about him, and this completely blown out-of-proportion phobia could be the push they need to realize he’s not worth much.
He’s avoiding the topic at hand.
His stomach retches again, somehow sensing his want to not think about how sick he feels, and deciding to give him the middle finger. Metaphorically.
He needs to fix this.
Though he knows that this doesn’t help, Donnie’s go-to when it comes to relieving his nausea is by downing bottles of water, ironic considering his inability to stay hydrated in day-to-day life. He’s been told that drinking water doesn’t help, and that it just makes his puke more liquid than solid. An image pops up in his brain that Dee quickly waves his hands in distress over, like he’d somehow be able to swipe the thought away. Putting all that aside, when he was a tot Splinter would tell him drinking lots of water helps nausea. It kind of stuck.
He knows that the only way his mind will stop racing is if he goes to the kitchen and grabs a bottle. Maybe a cough drop too. Or some ginger. Mainly the bottle though. There are two problems, however- a), he doesn’t want his brothers to see him in such a pitiful state, and b), getting up and staying up seems like a task harder than Atlas’ puny mission to hold the Earth up. Problem B is easier to solve right away. You just push off the ground and put one foot in front of the other. Even toddlers can do it.
So he tries to stand up. And falls right back down.
He mutters a few curses under his breath, but he’s on a mission now. If he treats this like a mission it makes it a lot harder to start spiraling, so ok, he can play that game with his brain. He tries to stand back up again, and succeeds! Huzzah!
Walking is a different story, but as long as he keeps a death grip on his desk he won’t fall down. Once he walks to the door, he takes a peek back at the sad mess of blankets and stuffed animals on the floor. He’s worried his brothers might catch him sneaking to get a bottle of water, how scandalous, but the fear of throwing up threatens to consume him and spit him out. He just has to suck it up.
When picking which part of the layer should be his lab, Donnie decided to make his lab as far away from every other area as possible. A decision that’s served him well until now. If he wasn’t so sick he would invent a time machine and strangle past Donnie for his foolishness. Nevertheless, he toils on. If he can’t even walk to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, then maybe he really was weak after all.
Eventually, he can hear the clatter of pots and pans nearby. The noise of Leo and Raph’s squabbling is enough to give him a headache if he didn't already have one. He can hear Mikey scraping a pan, talking about a new recipe he learned from Meat Sweats and wants to try, and won’t everyone pretty please support his artistic endeavors? It’s charming, but it throws a wrench in his plans. He can’t walk in and walk out without being seen if everyone and their mom decided they had to be in the kitchen right now. There’s no need to worry though, he’s a ninja. He knows how to be stealthy and silent, because he is Hamato Donatello, student of Splinter slash Lou Jitsu, creator o-
“Oh hey Don, I was just about to try and grab you for dinner. Are we in an egg kinda mood today orrr?”
Of course.
“How thoughtful, Raph, but I am up to some. Uh.”
He takes a pause. He’s never been a good liar. That was more Leo’s strong suit.
“I’m creating some very important tech for us to use in our next fight, and if I want it to work I can’t risk any distractions! I am just here for a measly water bottle, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say, but if you’re already here you might as well grab a plate and be ready for my new culinary concoction to wow your taste buds!”, Mikey yaps while putting in a few eggs to poach.
“I don’t trust recipes coming from a guy who tried to kill us, and if I don’t want it there’s no way Donnie will eat it.” Leo flicks a wad of a torn up napkin at Mikey, who catches it, surprisingly.
“Meat Sweats is a culinary genius! I will not stand for such slander from someone who looks up to a dead magician!”, the words leaving his mouth as he takes the lid off of a pot.
“You take Harry Houdini’s name out of your mouth right now before some R-rated action happens in this kitchen you gre-“
“Guys”, pleads Raph. “Can we stop the bickering? You’re giving me a headache. Donnie too from the looks of it.”
Mikey takes a glance at Donnie, who’s had a very difficult time trying to process the argument while juggling trying not to fall asleep upright and or double over in pain. “You good Dee? You look awful.”
“What our wrong and frankly disrespectful brother is trying to say is, you look like shit”, Leo says.
Donnie doesn’t appreciate how they all come together as a unified front just to put him under the microscope.
He’s about to make a patented Donnie quip, laced with sarcasm and disdain, a statement so Donnie-like in nature that everyone would leave him alone to get his water bottle in peace, realizing that absolutely nothing was wrong here no not all. Maybe something about one of his tech projects would quickly get his brothers to forcibly shut him up. Something, god, anything to get this spotlight off him. But in the worst timing in the history of the universe, his stomach retches. And he no longer worries about how to appear fine, but instead starts freaking out, hands covering his mouth and eyes tearing up.
He’s crying and he’s shaking and honest to god it’s truly a pathetic sight. He slides down to the floor, utterly terrified by the thought of today's lunch exiting his mouth and splattering all over the kitchen floor. There is nothing going on in his brain besides a desperate plea to the universe, for some kind of way to stop him from throwing up. He’s upset because he’s sick, and his body has betrayed him once again, and he’s about to face his worst phobia head-on, but the worst part is he's upset that he’s breaking down this badly in front of his brothers. He really is weak after all.
Grabbing his head and shutting his eyes, he’s trying his hardest to stop sobbing so damn loud, if not for appearing less weak in front of his brothers then to hopefully not set off another turn in his stomach. He couldn’t even carry out this basic task. What a loser. Dead weight. Wor-
“Both of you stop freaking out before I smack you into last year!” Raph roars before turning to face Donnie.
“Hey big guy, what’s the problem? Are you ok with being touched right now, because if you are I’m going to give you the biggest bear hug ever.”
Donnie can process what's happening, but his brain feels like it’s buffering right now. Talking seems too monumental of a task to take on right now. About to throw up, he signs.
Raph looks like he’s having his own processing issues, but after a second it seems to click. “Oh, dude. Are you sick? You should have told us, we could have brought you food and a few movies to watch”, he tsks.
Donnie can’t help crying even more. All sense of composure is lost. I’m scared, he signs shakily.
“Of what?”, Raph replies back, seeming a little panicked. “Is there an enemy nearby? Don’t worry big guy, Raph is ready to fi-“
“Move”, mutters Leo before kicking Raph, sending him tumbling over. “Your fear stench isn’t helping anyone right now. Don, is there anything seriously wrong right now? Please tell the truth, because even though I am an amazing team medic, I can’t help you unless I know what’s wrong.”
And Donnie can’t help but cry more, because this is all so stupid, isn’t it? He has an irrational phobia and now he’s making everyone around him upset. It’s not fair of him to do that to them. But, if he wants everyone to leave him alone, he has to tell them what’s wrong, even if he’s afraid of the response.
“I-“
“Hey hey hey, you don’t have to push yourself to talk right now”, he says while patting Dee on the shoulder “Stay silent as long as you want, because I really don’t miss your grating voice. Fuck, this isn’t the time for jokes is it. Please just tell me what’s wrong I’m not good at this. ”
“No, it’s hard to- it-“
He’s got this, he can form a sentence. He can do it. He has to, because he doesn’t remember teaching his brothers the sign for phobia.
“I’m scared of throwing up, but not like regular scared, phobia scared, and I feel so bad and I just wanted a bottle of water so I could stop worrying but now I’ve worried all of you and I don’t want any of you to think I’m weak an-“
Leo grabs Donnie’s hand. “Hey, don’t worry about us right now. Raph and Mikey will stop panicking soon, and they worry about everything anyways, so you’re not causing some grand disruption in the universe. We would never think you’re weak. Well, besides being unable to open a monster can that one time. And every lair game before this year. And the dozens of times you’ve tripped on air. But that’s about it.”
His eyes take in his surroundings, doing a mental check of the kitchen. “I don’t think we have any dramamine here, but I could make you some tea if you feel like drinking.”
Mikey pops in to add “I can get some toast ready to ease your stomach!”
It's hard for Don to stay focused, but he nods in agreement.
“Great! Let’s get you back to your room, ok?” Quick to stand up, Leo offers a hand to Donnie. And just this once, just today, he’ll let himself be helped. He grabs Leo’s hand and tries to stand up, but the dizziness starts to set in and he stumbles. Leo’s quick to catch him, and shoots him a concerned glance.
“You really should have told us you were sick earlier”, he whispers worryingly. Turning away from Don, he yells “Raph, come back in here! I need you to carry the creature to his room!”
Raph, as if on cue, immediately walks into the kitchen and scoops Donnie up, as if he doesn’t weigh more than a bag of grapes. “I’m sorry for touching you right now big guy, but I kinda have to.”
Dee is unable to complain, slumped against Raph’s plastron as he’s carried into his room. He feels like a little kid. Gently setting him down on the bed, Raph covers him with a blanket.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
Don sighs, feeling guilty. “I have a bunch of your stuffed animals on the floor of my lab. I’m sorry for stealing them. Please bring them here.”
Raph looks like he’s about to chide him, but one look at Don and he closes his mouth again. He leaves without saying a word, and Donnie’s worried he upset him, but a minute later he returns with all of the stuffed animals, overflowing in his arms. He sets each one down next to Don gently, and gives them all a kiss on the forehead, Donnie included. “I’m gonna bring a trash can in here and get out of your hair, ok?”
Donnie thinks about accepting the offer, but he feels his stomach turn. The mind-numbing fear the sensation brought him was too much to deal with. It was sad to admit, but he didn’t think he was capable of dealing with this alone.
“Can you please stay,” he says, feeling like a little kid, tugging on Raph’s arm softly. “I don’t. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
After looking shocked, Raph smiles, snaggletooth and all. “Of course big guy, lemme just get the bucket real quick.”
A brief moment passes, and he returns with the bucket. He sits down on Don's bed, looking at him like Dee is fragile, scared to upset him or do the wrong thing, but before he can ask Donnie what he wants he finds him already curled up in his lap.
“Dude, you’re burning up.”
“I know. Do you mind me staying here?”
Raph smiles gently. “Of course not Dee.”
He moves back to where Donnie was lying down before, and brings the blanket up to cover him, bringing over a stuffed animal for Dee to hold while doing so. Raph looks down at Don and feels how he imagines a cat owner would feel. He rests his hand on Dee’s shoulder and opens his phone to play Subway Surfers.
Moments later, Mikey returns with three pieces of toast on a plate. When he walks into the room he thinks about taking a photo of Don curled up next to Raph, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He climbs on Raph’s shell from behind the bed and perches on his shoulder, handing the plate to Donnie. Not long after, Leo returns with chamomile tea, almost dropping it when he sees everyone in Don’s bed. Instead of protesting, he takes a seat next to Don and helps him drink some of the tea. Don tries to swat his help away, but Leo frowns.
“There’s no way you’re capable of holding this cup to your mouth by yourself right now without spilling it everywhere.”
And though he knows he should refuse, Don can’t bring himself to. For the millionth time today, he accepts the help. When he finishes both his plate and the tea, he slumps his head on Leo’s shoulder. Leo, in turn, pokes him on the forehead.
“Do you feel better?”
Dee shakes his head.
“Is there anything you want from us ooor?”
“You’re terrible at this,” Mikey deadpans while helping Raph beat his subway surfers high score.
“Says the knockoff Gordon Ramsey fan”
“Says the dead magician fan.”
“Guys,” pleads Raph. “Can you both shut up. Just this once.”
Donnie thinks for a moment before saying, “You guys can keep arguing. I didn’t like how quiet it was anyways.”
So the three of them talk, picking fights with each other and talking about Jupiter Jim comics. Don, too tired to take part in any of the conversations, only joined in every once in a while to give one of his brothers the middle finger. Mostly, though, he was content just closing his eyes and focusing on the background noise. Everytime Donnie felt his stomach lurch, he squeezed Leo’s hand, and he squeezed back, with a look that said hang in there.
After about an hour, Donnie’s face twists in horror before tapping Raph on the leg.
“Whatcha need Dee?”
The look on his face kills the other three’s mood. Great, way to go Donnie. He tries to tell him that his worst fear is coming true, that he can feel himself about to throw up, that the fear is too much for him to handle. but he just starts crying again. God, he’s so tired of crying.
Raph seems to understand what this means, and motions to the other two to get off him. Once they do, he sets Donnie on the floor in front of the trash can, and pats his head. Donnie tries to crawl back to Raph, to the warmth he can always count on his big brother to have, but his stomach turns again and he cries harder. Raph moves to sit behind him and rubs his battleshell.
“Have you seriously had this on this whole time without any of us noticing? Wow. Raph is kinda embarrassed about this one. I’m gonna take it off, and before you start arguing with me, it’s not good for you to have this on, especially right now.”
How optimistic of Raph to think he has the energy to argue. After hearing the click of his battle shell, he feels exposed. Cold. He starts shaking again, and Raph in return puts his hands on Dee’s shoulders, with the kind of unwavering strength that makes him feel ok, just for the smallest moment.
“Pretend I’m your big bro battleshell, ok?”
Leo and Mikey, who had been standing to the side, unsure of what to do with themselves, walk to where Donnie and Raph are and sit down, on either side of Dee. They both grab a hand each.
“It’s ok to be afraid, Dee. Just focus on us right now,” Mikey whispers. Leo nods in agreement.
They stay like that for a few minutes, before Donnies worst fear comes true. As he leans over to the bucket, he can feel Leo and Mikey squeezing his hand, and Raph squeezing his shell. He squeezes back with his hands as hard as he can. It happens, and he’s crying, in hysterics even, but then it’s over. Mikey leaves to get a wipe for Dee’s face and some gum, and Leo gives Donnie a hug, not caring about how gross Donnie is and feels.
“It’s okay Dee, it’s over. We got you.”
Donnie can’t even bring himself to say anything back, he just squeezes Leo’s hands. He feels dirty. He wants to get in the shower and never leave, never escape the bathroom again in fear of the dirty, gross feeling returning. But he’s just so tired, and he feels himself go limp in Leo’s arms.
Mikey returns, and after they all help clean Donnie (and the room) up, they all sit back on Donnie’s bed again.
“Do you want us to leave, big guy? I know you’ve had a long day, it’s ok if you want to be alone right now.” Raph looks at Donnie with an expression he can’t quite read.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone then,” Leo replies. “But your bed is pretty cramped, so let’s move this party to the living room.”
Raph scoops Donnie up yet again, and while they all walk to the living room Leo and Mikey argue about which Lou Jitsu movie to put on. Once they reach a stalemate, they pop a disk in and let the projector do its thing. Raph leaves to get more beanbags, and while he’s gone Donnie slumps next to Leo, who’s there to catch his fall.
“Have you ever noticed how bad you are at reminding upright Dee,” Leo remarks.
Donnie turns to death glare at him, but there’s no malice in his expression. He’s too tired to feign annoyance or anger right now.
“After the day I’ve had, you’d do worse.”
“I’m sure I would,” he says absently while squishing Dee’s face. It’s the only time he could pull something like this without Donnie reacting like an angry cat, and he was going to take advantage of it.
When Raph returns with blankets and beanbags and stuffed animals galore, they all settle in and focus on the movie in front of them.
“Dee, why didn’t you tell us you felt sick?”
Donnie knows Mikey knows the answer why. For someone who’s so emotionally intelligent, he’s not above being a little shit and making him admit his insecurities to the rest of the family. He takes a moment to choose his wording.
“We’re ninjas. We’re supposed to be strong, and here I am scared to death of throwing up. It just feels so silly. I just didn’t want you guys to make fun of me, or to make you feel like I'm weaker than you three.”
Leo quips back with “Buddy, did you really think this was more stupid than your fear of beach balls?”, and Raph promptly slaps him.
While Raph chides Leo, Mikey answers.
“Donnie, we’re ninjas, but we’re not strong all the time. We all have our weaknesses! Raph has the anxiety of a single mother, Leo is emotionally constipated even by teenage boy standards, and I take out my anger on you guys by pretending to be a therapist.”
Leo and Raph start to argue back.
“I’m not finished! Ohmigod please shut up.”
He turns back to face Donnie.
“None of us are completely strong all the time, and we could never think you’re weaker than us. It would be hypocritical. We all have our weak moments. You didn’t choose to have a phobia, and even though it seems stupid it doesn’t make you weak. You can’t control it! Phobias don’t listen to reason, which is basically the only way you know how to fight back. It’s not silly, and we don’t think of you any differently. Just let us help you, dingus.”
Leo and Raph stop their arguing to nod in agreement, and Donnie melts back into his beanbags, unable to respond back with anything but a thanks and a vague hand wave. He knows his brothers get the sentiment. Leo moves over to be right next to him, and puts his head on Don's shoulder.
“Go to sleep dude, we’re not going anywhere.”
With that confirmation being all he needed to rest, Don could feel himself slipping out of consciousness. For the millionth time that day, he felt like a child. He had been carried everywhere, cooed at, fed. He had to hold his brother's hand through this whole experience. Surprisingly, he isn’t embarrassed anymore. He’s too tired and drained to feel any shame. He’s grateful for the warmth, and finally lets his guard down as he closes his eyes.