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Kirby O’Neil took a deep breath, taking a minute to compose himself after a long day of work before he stepped into his chaotic home.
Since the boys had moved in with him, he hadn’t gotten much time to himself. He’d put aside some extra time for him and April, but he couldn’t leave four ex-turtle mutants alone in his house for long, and the short amount of time he did leave, it was always cut short.
Always.
“Leo set the toaster on fire again!” “Donnie blew up the garage again!” “Raph punched a hole in the wall again!” “Mikey dumped a bucket of water on my bed again!”
(Which were all, apparently, common occurrences before they turned into humans, but a lot more dangerous in the newly-bought house he was trying to keep some resale value in.)
So, yeah, Kirby really, really needed that breath. Of course, he loved having the boys, it was just- exhausting . Way more than he remembered it being for his parents and definitely more than April ever was. And yet, he loved these four like his sons and didn’t really want them to turn back yet.
Luckily, he had another week before they knew whether the anti-mutation was permanent or not. Then he’d be dragging the insane scientist child out of the garage every day to get some fresh air and food to keep him from working himself into the ground.
Kirby placed his hand on the door handle. He’d made it through a whole day of work and even some overtime without interruption, all five kids made it home from school safely- albeit a little late, if the time he got the message from April was anything to go by- and there were no police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, sketchy white vans, loan sharks and/or sobbing pizza delivery guys outside, so he considered that a win.
But it was also terrifying.
Kirby opened the door to complete and utter chaos.
The TV was at full volume, Raph and Leo screaming at each other, clanging coming from the kitchen, and April- oh, his sweet, sweet April- was sitting at the table silently with her earbuds in doing something on her computer.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he called softly, taking his shoes off and placing a hand on her head.
She hummed, taking out an earbud to great him. “Hey, dad. Donnie’s doing science stuff in the kitchen, says he’s got something in the garage that ‘can’t be disturbed,’” she made finger quotes along with the last part, a fond grin on her face.
Kirby sighed. “Thanks, April,” a loud crash sounded from the next room and more screaming. Donnie yelled something back about them shutting up. “Any chance you know what’s going on with those two?”
April shook her head and sighed. “Honestly, I liked them better as turtles.”
Kirby knew she was only half joking.
“Hey, April, have you seen- oh, hi, Mister O’Neil!” Donnie peeked his head around the corner, apprehension growing on his features when he noticed Kirby.
Kirby decided to simply greet him back, letting the formality slide this time.
“Um, I was wondering if I could get your opinion on-”
Just as Kirby put his full attention on the second-youngest no-longer-turtle, Raph stormed upstairs and Donnie winced.
“Listen, Donatello, I want to hear what you have to say but I need to deal with this first,” Kirby explained. “Can it wait?” Donnie nodded, seemingly embarrassed and visibly shrinking in on himself, successfully shut down. “You didn’t do anything wrong, just timing.”
Donnie didn’t acknowledge him that time. Oh, well, one problem at a time. He went to follow Raph upstairs but before he could, said teenager stormed right past him to the basement, sai in his hands (after the hole-in-the-wall event, they’d moved the punching bag salvaged from their lair to the biggest room down there).
Better give him time, then. He turned to go to Leo, but before he could even take a step, a door slammed upstairs. No one else seemed to notice, Leo talking in time with the TV and April chatting with Donnie, but it worried him.
“Do either of you know where Michelangelo is?” Kirby asked the two quietest children who both shook their heads.
Raph’s head popped out of no where. “He’s crying his head off upstairs. Noticed when I got home.”
Kirby froze. “Why? Is he okay? Why didn’t you say anything before?”
Raph stopped chewing on whatever Kirby hadn’t noticed he was eating before. “Why would I?”
“Because I want to know when one of you is upset.”
Raph looked at the ground briefly as if contemplating his life before shrugging and turning to go back downstairs.
With a new top priority in mind, Kirby started making his way upstairs to the room Donnie and Mikey shared (Donnie normally slept in the garage, though, despite Kirby’s best attempts to get him to sleep at normal times in a normal place like a normal human, so it was mostly Mikey’s. Same deal with Raph and Leo, Raph slept in the basement most nights, and, when he didn’t, it was Leo).
Kirby knocked gently on the door, peeking his head in when he didn’t get an answer. “Michelangelo?” he called softly, briefly scanning the room for any sign of the youngest.
He found Mikey curled up on his bed, face pressed hard against a pillow, hands fidgeting restlessly with the case. He sniffled, grunting in acknowledgment.
Kirby ran through a couple ways to go about this in his head. He closed the door and sat down on the end of the bed.
The man opened his mouth to speak, shifting to face the boy, before cutting himself off with the loud crunch of paper. He reached under his foot and picked up two pieces of paper- or, two halves of one, it was ripped. The ‘D-’ at the top of the half in his right hand sent his heart crashing down into his stomach. He grimaced at the message beside it, ‘ See me after class ,’ in blue pen.
“Oh,” he managed. Kirby tossed the papers back on the floor, reaching toward Mikey and pulling him up. He wrapped his arms around the boy, one hand on his head protectively, pressing him into the crook of his neck.
Mikey sobbed quietly, whole body jerking with it.
“Sh-she thinks I’m s-stupid,” he choked out, hiccuping ever couple words.
Kirby sighed lightly, placing his chin gently on Mikey’s head. He’d never dealt with this issue before- with April smart enough to tutor and him being a scientist- but he wasn’t completely unexposed.
“Who?” he asked, even though he could guess.
“Ms. Bosc,” he whispered.
Kirby sighed again. “Did you stay after class?” He nodded into his shoulder. “Did you ask Donatello or April to help understand what went wrong?”
Mikey hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ve asked Do-nnie before, w-ith the last test, and April has be-tter things to do.”
Kirby held him closer. He knew April’s reason was just an excuse, he’d bring it up again later. “Why didn’t you ask Donate- Donnie again?”
Mikey shrugged. “Ms. Bosc thinks I’m stupid. Donnie kn- knows . He said it.”
Kirby froze. “Donatello called you stupid?”
Mikey nodded again. “Yeah, everyone do-oes. They’re right.”
The older, once again, decided to bring that up again later. “What exactly did Ms. Bosc say?”
“That if I didn’t br-ing my grades up, I’d have to rep-eat her class next year,” he whispered. “I said I thought ‘ D ’ was a pre-tty high letter already, it’s only number four. She didn’t think so.”
“Does she know about the IEP?” Kirby whispered, trying to keep his voice down. Despite the talk he’d had with the boys after their initial reaction to their diagnoses, Mikey (and Donnie) were still a little self conscious.
He felt Mikey flinch. “Didn’t tell her.”
“She should know, anyway, Mic- Mikey, it’s in the system.”
“Why do all the ad-ults have to know there’s something wrong with my br-rain?” Mikey whined, curling in on himself tighter. At least the hiccups had lessened.
“There’s nothing wrong with your brain, Mikey,” Kirby muttered. “You just need a little more help.”
It was silent for a couple seconds.
“When can we be turtles again?” Mikey mumbled into Kirby’s shoulder.
The latter sighed for what felt like the millionth time today, glancing over at the window. “I don’t know, Mikey,” he offered, pausing for a couple seconds. “Hey, could you tell me how to rewire a Kraang droid so you can understand them without their robot bodies?”
Mikey unconsciously started explaining to the best of his abilities, listing a bunch of coloured wires and which connected together, getting off track a couple times but, somehow, making his way back each time.
“That’s awesome,” Kirby praised. “It’s incredible how you figured out the red one would blow up with blue without having to try them- and a Kraang tentacle as an energy converter? Brilliant!”
Mikey pulled away a little, looking into his eyes, calculating. He grinned when he found nothing but honesty, practically shaking.
Kirby discreetly grabbed an action figure from behind him, handing it to the orange-haired boy. He was glad he’d started therapy after the invasion- when he was sure no one would call him crazy- it had really allowed him to be able to offer support for the boys, even before their anti-mutation.
“What if you don’t have a droid? What’s ‘Kraang’ in their language?”
Mikey screeched, the sound reaching a hight Kirby couldn’t hear before dropping back to a low squeal. It sounded so much like a Kraang that he had to run through a brief breathing exercise so he didn’t freak out.
“Wait a second-” Mikey paused, eyes widening. “You-”
Kirby chuckled. “Did you figure out my plan?”
“Why?” Mikey cried, the faint hint of a smile behind his eyes.
“Why did I want to remind you that you’re way smarter than anyone could possibly ever know?” he stated. “Because you are , and you should know that.”
Mikey’s eyes watered again- in a good way, this time- and he launched himself back into Kirby’s arms.
Kirby squeezed him tightly. He loved the way he fit perfectly in his arms. He would have to call the school to work on getting Mikey a tutor or just speaking to the teacher, but that could wait. After he finished up here, he’d be having a conversation with Donnie about whatever he’d wanted and then end it by bringing up the whole ‘don’t call your brother stupid’ thing-
“Thanks, dad,” Mikey whispered, so faint Kirby wouldn’t have heard it had his ear not been right next to him. His heart jumped.
Mikey pulled away, probably not even realizing what he’d said, and grinning. His happiness simmered down a bit, though, when he asked the next question. “Can you help me look over it, dude?”
Kirby smiled. “Of course. I just need to talk to Donnie and make a quick phone call. Give me an hour?”
Mikey nodded aggressively.
Kirby ruffled his hair, making him laugh and lean into the touch. As happy as it made him, he still hated how each of the boys reacted to positive physical contact, especially Raph and Mikey.
“Alright, Mikey, I’ll even set a timer.”
Mikey grinned. “I’ll be here, dude!” he paused. “Right after I wash my face.”