Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m thinking Chinese food.”

They say it at the same time from across the room without even looking up. Then, in an almost freaky way, they say within a split second,

“Jinx.”

Raph scoffs, setting the game controller down in his lap (Leo was kicking his butt and he didn’t wanna be that guy that rage quit over such a thing but his thumbs were becoming stiff and sore from overuse.)

“You guys are weird.”

Leo snorts a laugh from where he’s sat beside him, still playing, he’s beating the snot out of Raph’s guy, a series of looped audio that contains phrases like ‘Ooh!’ and ‘Ouch!’. Raph just rolls his eyes.

“You’re just realizing that now?” His brother says once the screen declares his victory with a spray of bright, bold pixelated letters.

Donnie hums from his side of the room; he’s been tinkering about with Mike’s GameBoy for a good hour now, having torn it apart like some vulture, he’s got the back of it turned over in his hand when he says rather nonchalantly,

“Yeah. Twin stuff, y’know.”

Mikey, who is dangling upside down on the armchair that usually is preserved for their dad, yawns, jaw popping, he scratches at the underneath of his thigh, probably where it’d rubbed against the itchy material of dad’s knitted throw he used for his legs like a real old man.

“So are we getting food or what?” He asks, impatient as always.

Leo sets his controller down, stretching his arms out, Raph knew he’d be sore, too.

“Yeah, sure. Want me to come with?”

Mikey sits up, brushing off the sudden head rush with a whistle. “Nah. It’s cool. I wanted Dee to come check out a light that’s showing on the dash.” He waits for his brothers reaction, thrown across the room with a rather disappointed look, he grins all wide and toothy.

Donnie sighs, setting the toy down. “Fine. But if we crash and die, I’ll kill you.”

Mikey swipes the keys up off the kitchen table where he left them last and blows him a kiss. “Got it. See ya!”

They’re gone and the lair falls into a brief silence. Raph picks up his controller the same time Leo does.

“Want me to show you how to win?” Leo taunts with a grin.

Raph scowls at him. “Want me to show you how to lose?” He retorts sharply.

(He does not show Leo how to lose. For another four games in a row.)

***

“Take a left here,” Donatello directs him, slumped back into the passenger seat, Mikey tuts.

“Yeah, dude, I know.” He laughs. “As if I’d forget where the Chinese place is.”

Donnie hums. He fiddles with the strap of his seatbelt plastered across his chest. Mikey takes the next left rather sharply, like he was almost about to miss it.

“Hey, so how’s my GameBoy doin’?” Mikey suddenly asks, enthusiastic as ever. “Is she gonna make it, Doc?”

Donnie scoffs at the ridiculousness of it but answers him seriously, nonetheless.

“Well, as long as you don’t get maple syrup in the cartridge slot again,” he says, warning him with a pointed look that Mikey waves off one handedly as he changes gears. “Then yes. She… will survive.”

Mikey grins, placing both hands on the wheel. “Phew. Knew I could count on you, Dee.”

They pull up to the Chinese place and Mikey taps his fingers against his legs as Donnie counts out the ones and the fives they have.

“Don’t forget the tip,” Mikey reminds him as he’s handed over the wad of cash. Donnie rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Mike. You’re supposed to tip the delivery guy. We didn’t get delivery. We drove here with our own gas.”

Mikey blows a raspberry right in his face, popping the door open. 

“Yeah. Well. I’m a nice guy.”

He slips on the Cowabunga Carl head and bounces out towards the restaurant.

He tips way more than he should for a service they didn’t receive because Mikey is, in fact, a nice guy.

***

“You got any aspirin?” Mikey asks, shuffling i to Don’s lab, sliding the doors behind him shut, it doesn’t do a great deal to drown out the argument that’s flaring up on the other side of it. He shoots Donnie a serious look. “Or a pillow and some duct tape? That might work.”

Donnie, who sits at his desk, clicking away at his computer, had also spent the last half hour trying to block out the argument and the yelling shared between their older brothers, he nods his head towards his cabinet that hangs off the wall.

“Top shelf,” he tells him. “Take two. And grab me some whilst you’re at it.” He huffs.

He listens to the sound of the foil packaging popping as his brother distributes the painkillers in both palms.

Donnie takes his share, dry swallowing, the pop of his ears when he does so is able to offer him a split second of silence before he is subjected to the arguing again. He winces.

“I thought they were cool now.” Michelangelo sighs wearily, dropping into the spare chair he has set up in his lab. He calls it a spare chair, but really, it’s always been Mikey’s chair, made for rolling about in lazy circles as he follows his brother around the lab. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying to balm his growing headache.

Donnie grunts in response. He pushes the mouse away from beneath his hand, as if to signal the end of it’s use for now. “Yeah, well, it’s Raph and Leo. They’ve always fought.”

Voices climb higher and louder and angrier and Donnie doesn’t miss the way his brother’s eyes grow slightly wet and the way his throat starts bobbing up and down, and the last thing Don wants to do now is get up and move but he does it anyway, forcing his bones to unstick themselves from his chair, he says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster,

“Wanna go scavenging with me?”

Mikey perks up like a dog hearing the word treat.

“Yeah?” He says, hopeful.

Donnie is already reaching for his satchel. There isn’t really a great deal of supplies that he’s desperate for right now, but for his brother he can easily lie.

“Sure. If you find something cool you can keep it.”

Mikey leaps out of his chair and Donnie happily follows him, leaving behind the animosity and the atmosphere.

***

He’s here. Donnie knows it. Heart trapped heavy in his throat as he pushes through the ruined tunnel, his palms blister and burst as he moves slabs of ruin, Leo says something to him but he’s not listening. He wipes away at his brow with the back of his hand, most of it coming away with slick red.

He knows Mikey is here. He just does.

They find him half an hour later; dazed and with a broken ankle, he bitches the whole way home which brings a great deal of relief to them all, because a bitchy, whiney Mikey is a Mikey that is gonna be okay. He’s loud even when he’s having his ankle wrapped which means it’ll heal just fine.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Donnie tells him once he’s finished cleaning up his injuries. “I was ready to strangle you when we pulled you outta that tunnel.”

Mikey’s smile is drawn wonkily across his face. His baby blue eyes twinkle brightly.

“Danger is my middle name, bro.”

Donnie’s heart has finally sunk back into it’s usual place. He finds his hand with his, fingers reaching beneath his wrist to find his pulse strong and real.

“No it isn’t.” He tells him. “It’s Donatello. Like mine in Michelangelo.”Mikey’s eyes squint with a bubble of laughter he’s trying to suppress.

L“Yeah but can’t I just tell people that the D stands for danger?”

Donnie throws him a pointed look. “I really was worried, though. Don’t do that again. Skateboarding down old tunnels like that is forbidden from here on out.”

Mikey gives him a thumbs up. He rubs his head with his hand; it’d been a long day. His voice sounds tired when he asks him,

“How’d you know where to find me, anyway?”

Donnie smiles. It’s an easy answer.

“Twin thing,” he shrugs. “Y’know.”

Mikey smiles back. He knows.