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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Leo materialized in the astral plane with a hand over his eyes. Mike and I have switched places today, he said slowly and clearly, the way he did when what he was about to say had been carefully rehearsed, and he demands that you bring him a baby or else.

Um, Donnie said. Okay. Why are you covering your eyes, exactly?

Because if you have any with you, I'm not allowed to look at them until Mike gets a turn. Upon pain of losing first dibs on chocolate bars forever. He shivered. He also wanted me to scold you for backstabbing him so cruelly, something something, you'd better make it up to him with lots of cute kids. Don't tell him I forgot half the script, please. Just act really sorry.

It wasn't my fault! I had no idea that Dee could do that, Donnie grumbled. I don't even know if any of the other kids would be able to come, or if it's because Dee and I are... universally congruent, or something like that. I haven't had the chance to test it. I can't promise anything.

Well, can you at least try? Leo prompted. Or- bring baby Dee, if nothing else?

He should have known. No plan survives first contact with Michelangelo. Well, there went caution and the scientific method and all that. Dee had seemed fine after the previous evening's adventures, and there were no observable changes to the astral plane meeting place, including the threads, so there was that, at least. ...Fine. Sure. I can try. I'm going to need about five minutes or so.

Leo nodded, businesslike, then shot him a quick grin from underneath the cover of his hand and vanished.

...'Lots of cute kids,' huh.

Don slid back into his physical body and opened his eyes. The sounds and colors of the room quickly gained clarity: Lou was curled up on the bed, reading a raggedy, water-stained picture book to the gaggle of babies in his lap, who were paying attention to vastly different degrees. Raph was sucking on the end of his tail - a bad habit that they were trying to encourage him to break - and dutifully following Lou's finger across the page with a clumsy finger of his own, though the alphabet was beyond him at this point. Dee was clinging to Lou's other arm and squinting so hard at the book that it looked like he was trying to puzzle out the secrets of the universe from it. Mikey was snuggled next to Raph and looking up at him with a sleepy gaze, drool winding its way down his chin, and Lee was ignoring everybody and trying to squirm away between the book and Lou's legs, no doubt with some sort of mischief in mind.

Perfect.

Don waited for Lou to get to the end of the page and pause to flip the cardboard panels, nudging Lee back into the fold in the same motion.

"Need me to take him off your hands?" Don offered quietly.

Lou glanced up at him and then back down. His shoulders rose defensively. "I thought you were meditating."

"I am. I will be. I'd like to see if the same thing happens if I meditate with Lee.”

That got him a very suspicious squinted glance. "I don't want m-my children used in any experiments."

"It's not really an experiment." Not in the way Lou might have been thinking. "It could be helpful to know if they have latent mystic abilities. If you don't want me to, though, I won't." And he wouldn't. Mike could whine all he wanted, but the decision would stay firmly in Lou's hands.

Something was being weighed behind Lou's warily furrowed brows. Was he considering leaving? Was he considering what giving in might cost them?

(Don should have known it was too early to ask anything of them. The trust between himself and Lou was delicate, built of straw and hope and last resorts, and one strong breath could send it tumbling down flat.)

"...Fine. Take him, then."

Or perhaps Lou was braver, or more trusting, than Don had expected.

Of course, by this point, Lee had already found a way to confound the plans. He’d wrapped his arms tightly around Mikey and refused to be coaxed away, peeping obstinately.

“Jeepers,” Don sighed. Reluctantly - knowing he was really veering into uncertain territory now - he suggested, “mind if I take them both?”

Lou shrugged, only the hint of a frown betraying his continued reticence, and deposited both of them into Don's cupped hands. "Alright! Now, Red, where were we? Ah, yes..."

Don returned to the corner and slid back into full lotus position, hands cradled to his chest.

Since it was turning out to be a thing, he had to bite the bullet and tell Lou about his brothers sooner rather than later. It was unfair for Lou not to know who his kids were being introduced to. It would also probably put some things about Don's behavior into context. He knew he was kind of weird, to put it incredibly mildly. He was lucky that this had all happened now, rather than a couple of years earlier; he was a lot more in practice when it came to talking, although every interaction with Lou made it clear to him just how far he still had to go.

He closed his eyes and slipped into the astral plane, unsurprised to feel Lee wiggling across the palms of his spiritual self. He opened his eyes to see them both faintly glowing. Mikey a yellowish orange, and Lee a mix of yellow and red from his markings, with his green skin emanating a subtle pale blue. The two babies had separated at some point in the transition, but neither seemed to remember or care that they'd just been clinging for dear life.

Mikey yawned and stuck a hand in his mouth. Lee began trying to climb up the tails of Don's mask, determinedly making his way to his favorite resting spot in the crook of his neck. Don had to give him a little support here or there on the journey, but Lee's coordination and strength was improving in leaps and bounds. Neither one of the kids seemed particularly uncomfortable or distressed by the fact that they were currently displaced from their bodies.

Here, where emotions lingered in the air and the babies had no natural shielding, Don could feel what they were feeling so clearly. The kindest punch to the gut he'd ever experienced: Lee, curled up against his neck, pulsing a sweet love-excitement-playfulness. Mikey, in his hands, radiating a warm love-contentment-joy.

Uncomplicated love. No slightly bitter aftertaste, no reservations, not threaded through with regrets or lingering half-healed pain. It was enough to make him blink back tears.

Love you, too, he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment and letting the emotion flow through him, filling his veins, strong enough to suffuse the air around them.

Lee trilled happily, squirming in excitement. Mikey responded with a joyful little click, and the love-joy fluctuated hard in its intensity.

For all that his brothers liked to joke about it, these weren't his kids. They were Lou's. For the moment, though, it was almost nice to pretend.

Okay, we've put him off long enough. You ready? They didn't respond, of course. Don braced himself and tugged on the orange thread.

Michelangelo was never one to take his time following Donnie's summons, but this time he materialized at practically the speed of sound, wiggling like a maniac, waving his residual arm, his hand fluttering in excitement. When he set his eyes on the two tiny turtles with Donnie, he shoved his hand over his mouth to muffle a gleeful shriek.

A sheer tsunami of delighted excitement almost bowled Donnie and the kids right over. Lee trilled again, louder, right in Donnie's ear, little claws scrabbling against Donnie's neck and under the curve of his jaw as he wriggled in joy-confusion-delight.

My nibbles! You've brought me nibbles! Donnie I love you, Mike breathed when his initial wave of elation finally crested and broke. Who do we have here? Are you...? Ohhhhhhh, and his voice cracked as he leaned over to see who was nestled in Donnie's palms. You're Little Mikey, aren't you?

Mikey blinked up at Mike and pulled his fingers out of his mouth to give him a gummy smile.

Mike stared, awestruck, and then raised his head so he was eye-to-eye with Donnie. Donnie I will commit murder for this child.

You haven't even met Lee, yet, Donnie said, knowing full well it would only add fuel to the fire.

I will commit murder for them both, he corrected himself without hesitation. Then he turned to Lee, and his smile somehow grew even wider. He reached up a finger to tickle the baby's plastron. Hey there, Mike cooed. You're not gonna grow up to be a stiff ol' mother hen Leo, are you? No worries, Uncle Mike will be a bad influence. The worst.

His eyes flashed back to Donnie's own for a brief moment. You don't hear any of this. Cover your ears.

Donnie absolutely did not.

How do you feel about felonies, little guy? Tax evasion? Little bit of arson? Mail fraud?

And that's enough of that, Donnie said firmly, fully aware that Mike could tell he was laughing on the inside. Take him off my hands before I go deaf in this ear, please. Lee was getting quite wound up, and loud high-pitched noises did not bring Donnie joy.

I can hold them? Mike breathed. I mean, of course I can hold them. Obviously. Do I have to do anything? Like... support their necks, or?

Their shell does most of the work there. Just don't drop or shake them, or let them put anything in their mouth that they can't digest, and you'll be fine.

Roger roger!

Mike cupped his fingers and scooped up Lee with a rare sort of gentleness, causing Lee to squeak in surprise and delight as he was lifted into the air. Mike cleared his throat and, to Donnie's surprise, squeaked back, a little rusty and uncertain but eager.

Lee click-laughed and Mike chortled, tapping his toes and twisting his torso back and forth in delight. The two of them began exchanging an assortment of turtle noises. Sometimes it took Mike a few tries to copy Lee correctly, but Lee didn't seem to mind - it only made him giggle longer and louder.

Look at those two goofballs, Donnie whispered to little Mikey, who had perked up and seemed to be listening intently to the back-and-forth.

He loved them all so much it hurt.

Gasp!

...yes?

You cruel scoundrel!

...

You brought me two babies!

Isn't that what you wanted?

I only have one hand! Two babies, one hand to hold them with, you see where that math's not mathing, right? 

They're small. They'll both fit. Here, let me put little Mikey- hold your arm like this.

But they'll grow!

Yeah, probably.

They will! And then I won't be able to hold them both, and it'll be all because you picked up more kids than I have hands, you monster.

There are four, Mike. It's an inevitability for all of us.

...how hard do you think it would be to learn to juggle with one arm? Donnie? Hey, hey Donnie, I was joking, don't take them away, nooo! 

Mike had been exploring his own personal sense of style ever since they'd spent nearly half a year babysitting a group of human kids that needed a safe refuge. By now that gaggle of tiny mischief makers were squirreled away somewhere upstate, but Mike still checked in on them every so often, bringing back tales of drama and adventure in the woods, bragging of how he won this or that competition or proudly displaying some new trinket they'd found or made and gifted to him.

There had been one young girl who had loved to play with and braid his mask tails, adding beads and ribbons as she went. Mike had even snuck her some bottles of tie dye, one day, and the next morning his mask had been a burst of brilliant color (and so had her clothes, and the mats in the dojo, and Raph's mask, and Splinter's fur... Mike swore up and down he wasn't an accomplice, but everybody knew. Even Donnie, and he wasn't there for any of it except through word of mouth.)

He had an assortment of beads tied up in his mask tails, today, probably in anticipation of using them to play with whatever baby Donnie could rustle up. There weren't very many opportunities for kid's toys in the astral plane meeting space, but things they were wearing, things that were a solid part of their self-image, seemed to carry over without much effort. Pretty clever of Mike, honestly.

(Speaking of fashion choices, Mike still wore purple nail polish, most days. Donnie always noticed, and always, always felt loved.)

Using those bead-covered tails, Lee had very quickly taken to climbing all over Mike like Mike was his personal Mount Everest. He was tiny but fast. Mike had started off more than a tad nervous, masking it poorly, worried constantly that tiny little Lee would fall off his shoulder or over the lip of his shell and that he wouldn't have his hand free to soften the landing because it currently had a second baby turtle resting in it. He was doing his level best not to squirm, sitting there with his legs crossed, trying not to dislodge his little passenger crawling up and down his knees and across his shoulders.

Fortunately, they were a bit more physically developed than human babies would be, despite their size, and Mike was far from the first grown turtle to be summited by this one in particular. While Donnie and Mike talked, Donnie trailed his own open palm underneath the wandering little turtle just in case.

He's active for such a little guy.

Yeah, he never stops. I have this horrible nightmare that someone will leave a door open and he'll disappear before we even know he's missing.

Mike grinned down at Lee, who was currently resting atop his left knee. Already giving poor ol' Donnie over here grey scales! I approve, little man. Someone needs to keep your turtle dad on his toes when I'm not around.

Lee chirped up at him.

Yeah, exactly! Hey, if you need any tips, just hit me up.

Lee chirped again.

Mmm, mhm, very good point. 

Another chirp.

See, I knew you had good taste! I agree completely; orange is the best color!

Chirp.

Oh my! I had no idea! Tell me more.

Why did Donnie think introducing these two was a good idea?

Do you think it's gonna get confusing to have a Mikey and a Mike? Mike mused.

Yes, but Donnie hadn't had much of an opportunity to consider alternatives. Being a new parent was exhausting and time-consuming, and he wasn't even the parent. He was only the parent's... helper... person.

For the moment, whenever there's been any ambiguity between you and him, I've - we've - been calling him little Mikey.

Yeah, but Little Mikey's only little for a while. Who knows how big he might get? Maybe he'll be the tallest of all of 'em! Can you imagine? He held little Mikey up in front of Donnie's face, and the baby burbled and grinned on cue, looking tiny and delicate and too precious for this world et cetera. Doesn't he look like he's gonna grow up big and strong?

Little Raph was an alligator snapper, and if Donnie were to bet money, he'd guess that those genetics would predestine Raph to be the biggest, strongest sibling. Still, wisdom said it was always best to just agree with Mike when he started pontificating. Okay, I follow...

So I think he needs a better nickname. Little Mikey's cute, but it kinda lacks the panache of, say... Angelo! Angie? Angel? You're a little angel, aren't you, cutie pie? He tickled little Mikey's plastron and Mikey wiggled, cooing, reaching a tiny hand up to wrap around Mike's finger.

You want to nickname him Angelo? Donnie considered it. He couldn't say the baby didn't look like an Angelo, but babies didn't really look like anything in particular to him in any case. Sure, that works. I'll run it by Lou, but I don't think he'll mind. He just calls them by their colors anyways.

Mike frowned. He calls them by their colors? Not their names?

I don't think he means anything by it, Mike, Donnie assured him. He seems to be struggling with changes to his vision, so the color coding helped, and I think he, uh... might be kind of depressed, and that can mean memory issues. That, and he's probably still coming to terms with the idea that the baby turtles he's acquired could possibly end up with comparable intelligence to humans. It's a lot of responsibility all at once.

Mike tilted his head this way and that, as though to say, 'that's fair.' Well, I think until Angie's old enough to tell us if he likes being an Angie, he should be an Angie. Angelo.

None of them had so much as brought up the possibility of renaming the kids to something that wasn't Donatello, Leonardo, Raphael, or Michelangelo at the core. Donnie himself had complicated feelings on the matter. For one, he wasn't sure how he'd propose something like that to Lou without revealing more of himself than he was comfortable with yet. For another, it felt... wrong, almost, to take away their names after Lou had already given them. In a universal sense, these kids were them, just small, viewed through a funhouse mirror, and who was to say who truly deserved the rights to be 'Leonardo' or 'Michelangelo'? A couple of nights ago, Donnie had awakened from a deep sleep to the realization that it was actually comforting to know that there was something about them, as a family, that was a universal constant.

On the other hand, what would these kids think, growing up in the shade of their alternate selves? It wasn't as much of a concern before Donnie discovered that they could visit the astral plane with him. He couldn't exactly deprive either side of these kinds of interactions now that he'd cracked open Pandora's box. It was too important to the kids' social development to give them positive contact with people other than Lou and Don, stuck in the lair as they were.

He'd think on it more later. For now, Angie felt like a compromise he could live with.

Okay, I think it's officially time to go, Donnie announced.

Mike immediately stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that did not belong on his twenty-seven-year-old face. It was accentuated by the turtle baby flopped on top of his head, tapping away like his scales were a drum, and the other one in his palm who was dead to the world, limbs loosely askew in every direction. Noooooooo! My nibbles!

Yes, Donnie said at half the volume and a quarter of the energy. Their dad is probably waiting up on them. Routine is good for kids.

Aww. Fine. Mike held out baby Michelangelo, oh-so-gently sliding him into Donnie's palm so as not to wake him. He then braced his hand on the ground and pushed up, as though to get up and leave. Well well well, what a day, what a day-

You're forgetting one.

Mike's jaw dropped and his hand went to clutch his chest like someone clutching their pearls, but Donnie could feel the underlying tease pop and crackle in the air. I don't know what you're implying here, mister, but I believe we are currently equal. I have a baby, you have a baby, we're baby-balanced!

Lee's clumsy drum solo increased in fervor. Mike winced.

Donnie held out his other hand and wiggled his fingers. You'll see them again, okay? I promise, Mike. As long as it doesn't hurt them or the threads, at least.

Mike sighed, then leaned forward and ducked his head. Lee slid off and into Donnie's grasp, laugh-clicking the whole way.

Bye-bye, babies, Mike said, the very picture of fake misery (although Donnie could feel a light note of genuine sorrow from him, actually,) and he gave them each one more tickle. Take care of your rat dad and your turtle dad for me, okay? And eat all your veggies or you won't be green anymore. He winked at Donnie and disappeared.

Don opened his eyes back in the tiny lair to a very loud, very disappointed whine from a child who just lost their favorite new playmate.

"Do you think he looks like an Angelo?" Don asked, apropos of nothing.

Lou leaned over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. His bad back had earned him the real mattress, while Don spent his nights curled up on the floor with some folded up blankets until they could make it out to obtain a second bed and a bigger home. Sometimes he just conked out in the computer chair, which was a bad choice. "Who?"

Don deliberately glanced at the cat bed where the kids were all curled up for the night. "Michelangelo. Orange."

"Ah! Er, sure? All of them just kind of look like babies, I guess."

Don huffed. "Same. But a voice in my head suggested the nickname, so I thought..."

Lou looked at him like he was a six thousand piece puzzle scattered across the floor. "...oookay?" 

After years of working on building up his social skills again, it was clear that Don still had a long ways to go when talking to anyone who wasn't his brothers. Something about a brain to mouth filter. "I think I'm going to call him Angie."

"...Okay. Cool. Sounds good." Lou gave him a thumbs up as he rolled back over onto the bed. A handful of seconds later, he was snoring.

(The quiet was definitely going on the list of things Don missed about living alone.)

Chapter Text

Meet Raph, or what he more consistently responds to despite my best efforts: Red, Donnie announced, holding the small child out in Leo's direction.

He'd been planning on introducing Leo to little Raph anyways, because it felt weird to be just talking about the kids when he could actually bring them here, now, but Mike had turned it into a dare. According to him, Leo was awkward around babies and small children, though the more they could talk and be reasoned with the less awkward he apparently got, and he had avoided the lair for the most part when they’d played hosts to their small human guests. Mike had offered Donnie twenty astral plane dollars if he'd find a way for Mike to hide and watch, but since there was no astral plane store in which to spend the astral plane dollars, and there was literally nothing to hide behind in their featureless meeting space anyways, Donnie had declined.

Besides, he wasn't sure if Leo would be uncomfortable with an audience, and Donnie really, really wanted this introduction to go well.

I-I'm not sure if that's a good idea- but it was too late, Donnie had already deposited sweet little Raph into Leo's arms. Leo instinctively tightened his grip, but little Raph was sturdy and didn't so much as squeak.

Leo stared down at the child he was now holding despite his protestations. It had been a long time since Donnie had seen him so wrong-footed and awkward, and it was oddly hilarious. He looked like he was terrified that Raph was about to bite him or something. (Which was inaccurate; their only biter was Dee.) Uh... hi?

Little Raph waved and the edges of his mouth slowly curved upwards. His tail started wagging, scraping gently across Leo's plastron with a steady tsk-tsk noise.

With every wag, Leo slowly unwound, inch by inch. It's... nice to meet you, uh, Raph. I'm Le- uh, your Uncle Leo.

Raph's tail wagged faster, and he waved, again, starting with his hand next to his head and pulling it away in the turtle sign language for hello, his tiny grin slowly blooming into something wide and unguarded, showing off his tiny snaggletooth. Love-happiness-love.

He's only been sapient for a couple of weeks now, so he doesn't understand much. I've been teaching him baby signs until he's ready to speak. He knows dad, drink, food, book, and he can identify some colors. He's learning really fast, though. Impressively so. Red? Raph twisted his head to look at Donnie. Can you say 'I love you' to your Uncle Leo? He demonstrated the sign. Raph copied him, then repeated the motion several times, turning to proudly show it off to Leo.

(Raph probably didn't fully comprehend what it meant, yet, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that Donnie knew how to press all the right buttons to endear him to Leo, using Raph’s adorable face and Donnie’s mad scientist brain! Ha.)

Leo carefully shifted Raph around so he could sign back with his free arm, speaking as he did so. I love you too. He'd started to smile, despite himself, which Donnie counted as a victory. I can feel you being smug over there, Don. Don't push it.

Raph huffed and huffed, his version of a laugh, even though he couldn't have understood what was so funny.

Over the course of the evening, Leo had slowly melted like refrigerated butter left out on the counter. Donnie was used to Leo's sharper edges, these days. Loss had reforged Leo into something harder but just a bit more brittle, and responsibility weighed him down.

Right now, though? Leo was soft.

Little Raph had one of Leo’s hands in both of his own, turning it around, folding and stretching each finger. Leo was watching him, fascinated in his own way. He's small, but from how Raph and Mike were talking, I thought he’d be… smaller, I guess. A little less… everything.

Donnie huffed, amused. Well, yeah, because they met the babies. Little Raph here is the biggest. Lou and I aren’t exactly sure, but we think he might be closer to an equivalent of a human two-year-old, developmentally speaking. Dee and Lee are maybe around one or so, and Angelo seems much younger than that. Compared to them, little Raph is hitting milestones at the speed of a Triceraton space cruiser.

Leo looked up, surprise in the air, and something a little more tense. They’re not all the same age? You didn’t tell me that before.

Donnie shrugged, not sure what to say, or why it mattered so much. We only came to that conclusion the other day.

A complicated mix of emotions slowly unfurled from Leo, layer by layer. Leo stared down at little Raph as though seeing him for the first time all over again.

You’re the older brother, Raph, he said thoughtfully.

Little Raph continued examining Leo's hand like a quality control inspector.

That's a big job. I’m the same age as mine, but I know how it feels, a lot of the time.

Donnie tried hard to blink away the sudden prickling in his eyes.

Seemingly unaware of the change in atmosphere, Little Raph placed his hand against Leo’s, palm to palm. Leo’s big fingers dwarfed his.

It’s not an easy thing, being the oldest. Pressure. Responsibility. Sometimes it can feel like you’re holding up the entire world by yourself. Sometimes your little brothers might make you want to scream, or pack up and change your name and run away to Japan. But then they’ll say or do something that reminds you just how much you love them, and how much of what you do is for them.

Leo folded his fingers around little Raph’s tiny hand. Little Raph looked up at him with wide eyes.

Being the big brother can be terrifying, and stressful, but it’s worth it. Every bother, every argument, every second of grief. You’re going to be a great big brother. Just don’t lose yourself along the way. And don’t carry the world alone. Ask for help, ask us for help, we’ll... you won't have to bear it by yourself. I promise.

Donnie unobtrusively moved himself over next to Leo so he could press their shoulders together. Leo sighed and pressed back, letting Donnie carry some of the weight for a moment. Little Raph scooted himself forward and up into Leo’s arms, pressing the side of his head up against the hollow of Leo’s throat with a comforting churring noise. Leo squeezed him just the tiniest bit.

Around them, the air slowly warmed with affection and trust, banishing the chill of melancholy.

The portal.

I. I know, Leo.

You’ve done something to… lessen any risk, for now, I take it?

I took out some of the major components and stashed them in a secondary location, but it still doesn't help me sleep at night. I mean, I had it running some scans but I thought it was basically inert, too, when. Well.

…

…

What are you going to do, Donnie?

I don’t know. I really don’t.

Let’s talk about it, together. All of us. Sometime in the near future, away from any little ears.

Sounds like a plan.

Don’t- Donnie, don’t worry, okay? You and me, and all of us, we’re going to be fine. Whatever you need to do, we’re with you. Always.

See this? This is brown. Can you show me something else that's brown?

Raph reached both hands to Leo's other kneepad and bumped it with his palms, quickly turning around to seek praise.

Good job, Leo told him, solemn and serious and warm.

Raph smiled and kicked his legs happily, reaching for his tail. Without even a second's hesitation or fuss, Leo slid the tail out of Raph's fingers before Raph could start sucking on the end. He tugged a sheathed katana free of his straps and laid it on the ground far from Raph's curious hands.

Leo pointed to the handle. This is blue. Do you know blue? What else is blue?

The way he was reaching had him leaning over Raph with his head bent, just in range for Raph to stretch up and clap his hands below Leo's eye sockets, his fingers brushing the bottom of his blue mask.

Leo paused, frozen in the tableau, staring into little Raph's eyes with a soft look in his own. Very good job, he praised again, this time sounding amused and a little thoughtful. You're really smart.

Raph grinned, huffed that happy little huff, and leaned forward, pressing harder against Leo's cheekbones, support and counterbalance as he pushed himself clumsily to his feet. Then he bumped the very tip of his beak to Leo’s forehead in a kiss.

Leo blinked. He hesitated, like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around little Raph, pressing his own beak against the top of Raph’s head, gently scratching at his shell between the series of blunt spikes. He pulled away just far enough to tilt his head up and ask, Donnie?

Hmm? Donnie replied from where he was sitting cross-legged with his chin in his palm, watching the scene curiously.

They’re safe. There’s nothing coming after them; the Foot? The EPF?

The EPF has no idea they exist. The Foot barely exist themselves. There are no Purple Dragons, or H.A.T.E., or anything like that. He wasn’t sure about whatever might be coming after Lou, specifically, but after the first few nights of Lou jumping at every odd noise (and in the sewers there were plenty), he’d started calming down. Donnie had to trust that if it was significantly dangerous, he’d speak up.

And if anything crops up?

It wouldn’t for long, Donnie said, and it was a promise. He knew Leo could feel it, his determination to make sure the kids had a world they could grow up in without undue fear. He couldn’t fix the way humans reacted to things that were different, the way all mutant turtles were seemingly destined to grow up on the outskirts of society. Still, he would do anything in his power to make sure that the boys wouldn’t have to stare death in the face the way that they had when the world had opened up for them at fifteen.

He couldn’t provoke the beast – the EPF had resources far beyond Donatello’s capability of handling alone – but he could keep this small mutant family and himself off the radar, redirecting resources and attention elsewhere. Skimming off some of their budget. If the EPF ever developed anti-mutant tech, then creating exceptions to their scanning equipment for a range of mutagenic signatures that included the boys and Lou and himself, subtly enough that no one should ever notice, and broad enough that if someone did, it couldn't be immediately used to turn around and target them specifically.

He was already occasionally checking on the Foot, with newly born plans to increase the scope of observation. He hadn’t cared, much, before, beyond the very surface thought of staying out of their way. Now he was invested.

Leo pulled back from his hug with little Raph, smiling down at him. Good.

...the Knight was too, uh, sick, to go any further, so she stayed at the inn while the Bunny and the Panda Prince continued on their way...

Donnie was, frankly, impressed. In the span of a few hours, Leo had gone from scrambling for something to do or say, to very naturally teaching and playing with Raph as though he'd known him for years. 

And Mike had said Leo wasn't good with young kids!

Little Raph was magic, Donnie decided. He'd have to remember to use this power responsibly.

Little Raph's blinks grew slower and slower, curled up in the cradle of Donnie's right arm as the two adults had a quick exchange about schedules, logistics, and future plans above his head. Donnie was unsurprised to hear that Mike was dying to meet more of the kids, and Raph was almost equally so but less obnoxious about it.

(And on Donnie's end, he wanted to show them proudly off, as though these kids were in any way his, as though he had any part in their existence.)

Eventually, though, the clock ticked down.

Raph, say goodbye, Donnie prompted. He flexed his free hand in the gesture for goodbye, aimed at Leo.

Raph smushed his face against Donnie's plastron.

I don't know why he's suddenly shy, Donnie sighed, a little amused and a little exasperated. You might have worn him out. He's not used to people other than Lou and I, and neither of us has the time or the energy to give him our full undivided attention for long. There's just a lot going on right now.

Leo smiled. It's okay, I don't mind. Goodbye, Raph. It was really nice to meet you. He sounded honest about it, too, which made Donnie feel all sorts of victorious.

Last chance, Raph. I'm saying goodbye to your Uncle Leo, see? Goodbye.

Goodbye, Raph finally signed. Then, I love you.

Whether he entirely understood what it meant or not, it was cute.

I love you too, Leo said as he returned the sign. He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the back of Donnie's shell, pulling him into a side hug so as not to squish Donnie's small passenger between them. Take care. The both of you. All of you.

"Did it work?" Lou asked, head bowed as he scrubbed Lee's scales with a scraggly old toothbrush. He was already half-drenched despite the size of the small bowl he was using to give the babies their baths.

Don hummed from his chair at the workbench. He was assessing all the parts he had to build a crib that could hold four small but rapidly growing mutant turtle children, one of whom loved to climb anything and everything. "Did what work?"

"You know. The whole, meditating with the kids... thing. Whatever you were trying to do."

Don set down his measuring tape and turned partway in his seat. "Oh. Yeah, it did. They all have the capability to use mystic powers, but I don't have any idea what kind, or whether it’s some sort of passive or active ability. I just know that they can follow me into the spiritual plane, the astral plane, when I meditate. I'd avoid doing it too often in case their spirits have trouble reintegrating with their bodies, since they're a little young and they may not have a strong sense of self, but so far it doesn't seem to hurt them or strain them in any way."

Lou had stopped scrubbing, but at the response, he returned to the task more vigorously. Don could see Lee wiggling happily under the pressure on his shell. "Well then. That's. Good?"

"I think so. Do you, uh, think it's... good?"

Lou shrugged slowly. "When they're there with you, you don't happen to see..." He trailed off.

"See what?"

Lou jerked his head, a curt cutoff, and reached for the cup of water next to him. He tipped it over Lee's head, rinsing off the suds, then deposited Lee onto a towel to dry him off.

Well then.

Chapter Text

 "Can I borrow the kids tonight?"

Lou's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "What, all of them?"

"...Yeah."

Behave, he warned the kids, though the only one even remotely capable of understanding that instruction was the one that would likely need it least. They all looked up at him blankly, except Lee, who seemed to already be picking up that something fun was about to happen. Lee slapped his hands repeatedly on Don’s arm, chirping happily, emanating waves of excitement-curiosity-joy.

He touched thread after thread, tugging on each until he received a responding tug on the other end. Mike, then Leo, then Raph appeared, and the rush of feelings from inside and outside him was almost too much to bear.

All the turtles in his family were now in one place.

Oh my gosh, I get to meet all the nibbles! Donnieeee! Mike gushed, dancing from foot to foot and flapping his arm. Lee, seeming to sense his favored playmate in the rush of emotions alone, began chirping happily, squirming so hard that Donnie could feel him slipping out of his grasp.

Before he could do more than tense in alarm, Raph was there, curling his fingers underneath Lee so that he had a safe place to land. As the little adventurer wiggled around on his new perch, Raph grinned. I take it this one is Lee?

He is! Hello my good sir, how are you today? Mike greeted happily, leaning over Raph’s outstretched hand to give Lee a little shell rub. They started chirping back and forth to each other, a nonsensical exchange that left them both giggling once more, with Raph rolling his eyes in the middle.

From his resting place in Donnie’s arms, Dee seemed to notice Lee getting all the attention and found umbrage with it, because he bleated out his own little chirp, sounding almost distressed. Like a homing beacon had suddenly turned on, Mike’s head swiveled towards the source of the noise, a look of feigned horror on his face.

Oh no! I can’t neglect my other nibbles, you’re right! He turned to face the others in Donnie’s arms, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers at them. Hello young impressionable children, I’m your favorite Uncle Mike! Just remember that whatever I say is the absolute truth, and your Uncle Raph is a poopyhead!

Hey, Raph interjected with very little real heat, reaching over to bap Mike on the back of the head, rude. No fair turning ‘em against me when I haven’t even officially met half of ‘em yet!

Mike blew a raspberry in his direction, then went back to the kids. Okay, so who’s who? Hmm… I bet you’re little Raphy, which by process of elimination makes you baby Donnie! How’d I do?

A-Plus on baby identification, Donnie replied agreeably. Would you like to hold one?

Hmm… I hear little Raphs are in season, but I’ve been having a hankering for Donatellos lately. What would the waiter recommend?

Donnie looked down at little Raph, scratching gently on his plastron until the toddler glanced up at him. Do you want to meet my brother Mike?

Little Raph wagged his tail, leaning forward with little grabby hands, and Mike couldn’t help but coo as he hefted him up. Aww, he’s got a little snaggletooth! You’re so cute! You and me are gonna have a talk, kiddo, on how to get everything you want by looking at your turtle dad with those big ol’ eyes.

Little Raph’s big ol’ eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Mike twisted a little. C’mere, Leo, you’re not getting out of this!

I wasn’t trying to get out of anything, Leo grumped as he stepped closer.

When Leo entered his field of view along Mike’s left side, little Raph immediately brightened, warm with sunshine-happy-contentedness, and signed hello and I love you.

Hello Raph, Leo greeted back, signing as he spoke. I love you too, and Donnie could feel the way he melted inside like an ice cube in the Sahara. Leo took a moment to rub his fingers over little Raph’s head, scratching a spot that had little Raph’s tail whacking hard against Mike’s plastron, before turning to the other children in Donnie’s arms. Hi Dee. Hi Angelo. Nice to meet you.

Dee chirped again, and Angelo watched this new face pop into view with a contented smile.

Leo paused. Should I...?

You should and you are, Mike cut in firmly, using his shoulder and residual arm to prod Leo forward until he had to dig his heels in or risk squishing the babies Donnie was holding between them. Now pick. Who do you love more, me or Donnie? The pocket version can be yours for only $9.99 plus tax!

I love you both a lot, said Leo honestly, killing Mike's jokes flat. I don't think I can do two, though.

Take Dee, Donnie suggested. Not because of Mike's comment or anything. Obviously. Just make sure he knows you're picking him up, and move slowly. No sudden movements or loud sounds.

Leo was pretty chill. He could handle Dee.

Aw, c'mon, you're talking about the kid like he's a wild animal! Tiny Donnie's too baby to hurt anybody, aren't yo-ouuuuch! Mike had shuffled little Raph into the crook of his elbow so he could try to tickle Dee's plastron, and got a finger full of teeth for his troubles and a sensation of indignation-defensiveness-satisfaction. Maybe an incredibly tiny bit of bloodlust, too, if one were to squint. Okay, Tiny Donnie's got teeth and ain't afraid to use 'em. Noted.

Donnie leaned forward as Mike started to withdraw his hand. Don't pull away, Mike, you don't want to hurt his jaw or make him panic. Anybody keep vinegar in their gear?

They all blinked at him, clueless.

He hates it a lot, but we put it near his nose, so when he gets a whiff he instinctively lets go of whoever or whatever he's biting, Donnie explained wryly. Otherwise we have to tire him out or make him want to let go. And he's really, really stubborn.

And you were going to give him to me?! Leo hissed.

Raph outright laughed at that. You scared of a baby, there, Leo? Relax, it's not exactly a steel trap. Tickles, more like.

Little Lee chattered as though in agreement.

Happily ignorant to the bickering above his head, little Raph leaned over - wedged as he was between Mike’s elbow and plastron - and clumsily stroked Dee down the length of his snout, narrowly avoiding poking him in the eye in the process.

Dee shivered. His jaw snapped open.

Mike took the opportunity to gently and carefully yank his finger away, whining in disappointment at the cruelty his own beloved nibbles were showing him. Or, well, something like that. Donnie was a little preoccupied staring at little Raph.

Did you… know he knew how to do that? Leo asked, sounding distantly impressed.

No. No idea. These kids, they surprised him every day. 

Dee crawled up Donnie's forearm and pressed his face in the dark space between Donnie's bicep and plastron as though deciding the world actually wasn't worth his time today. Donnie huffed, amused, and made sure to send a gentle burst of affection in that direction. He'd let Dee decide when or if he was ready to socialize.

I promise Dee only bites Mikes and other people who try and touch him without warning, he assured Leo. But, here, take Angelo - he doesn't have any teeth yet, so you don't have to worry.

(He tried not to broadcast his amusement at his big brother, who beheaded the Shredder himself without flinching, afraid of something so many times smaller than him.)

Leo hesitated.

He's so small, Donnie. I don't want to drop him.

Don't drop him, then. Are you a ninja or not?

Leo's resultant spike of prideful indignation was even funnier.

Raph and Lee were engaged in a poke war, one of Raph's fingers versus all of Lee's limbs. He seemed to be quite entertained with pantomiming his hand in various death throes after Lee's (cute) (not vicious at all) vicious attacks. Oh, no, you got me, it's the end. You're way too strong. What are they feeding you, kiddo?

Mike was chattering to little Raph, trying to teach him some sort of hand slap game, laughing as they clapped palms. Good. The verbal input would be incredibly helpful for his development, regardless of how well he could follow along.

Leo watched. Angelo sat in his palm, safe and sound caged in by his curled up fingers, pressed against his heart. Angelo gently pat his hands against Leo's plastron as though offering comfort.

He’s so happy. Goofy. More than he ever was even with the kids we hosted. There was always this, I don't know, restraint, in everything he did, like he was trying so hard to be responsible. Like it was his job to distract everybody from the worst of things, and he took it so seriously. I haven’t seen Mike like this in… Leo trailed off. I don't remember. When Master Splinter let him keep Klunk, maybe.

Donnie’s memories of Mike in their childhood were fresher, not papered over with time and a multitude of other moments. Do you remember when we found that box of reject stickers behind the print shop on second?

The edge of Leo's wistful smile tugged slightly higher, then, with the reminder of how little twelve-year-old Michelangelo’s eyes had lit up on seeing the contents of the box, how he'd wiggled so happily that he'd accidentally punched Raph right on the nose, how he couldn't stop digging through the contents and talking about them nonstop on the way home to the point that Leo had to grab him by the rim of his shell and redirect him through the many twists and turns, followed by Donnie and Raph's barely stifled cackles.

How for weeks straight you couldn’t sit next to him or walk past him without an obvious slap to the shell and a satisfied snicker.

Donnie had a very vivid recollection of a moment standing in front of their old cracked and tarnished full-body mirror, twisting around as best he could to see what Mikey had chosen to stick to his shell this time. He'd been bestowed with school supplies, zoo animals, and the occasional rare and precious science-related sticker, but every so often Mikey would give him something particularly affectionate, like a heart. Or something purple. That was Mikey's way of saying I love you. (And you're on my good side today.)

It wasn't quite the same level of excitement as Uncle Mike with his 'nibbles,' but it was the same flavor. Pure, unadulterated delight, and the implicit permission to be silly and let go, that his family would keep him safe. Michelangelo, wholly unleashed.

It was terrible that circumstances had forced Mike to stifle that part of himself.

At least here, far away from the things that hurt them and were still hurting them, Mike could laugh like this.

Mike sidled up to Leo. I see your mini me, and I raise you a mini you! He held Lee up closer and closer to Leo's face until their eyes locked, inches apart, and Lee grinned and squeaked at the new friend. Tradesies?

Leo hesitated. Uh-

Mike lowered Lee and flashed Leo and Donnie a sunshine-bright smile. Too late! We're all making friends today, he declared, and promptly skipped away. Somehow he'd slipped little Lee into Leo's curled grip and extricated Angelo, all with his one hand, without either Leo or Donnie catching it. Real ninja at work.

Leo breathed out, slow and controlled, and stared down with some trepidation at Lee, who was already crawling off of his palm and up his wrist.

Donnie snorted despite himself. Ready to level up? he asked rhetorically. You're at medium difficulty now. Lee's going to climb all over you and he won't take no for an answer.

My heart can't take this, Leo whined, tense, a little shock and indignation poking at Donnie's senses, but he carefully cupped his other hand around Lee so he wouldn't fall and let him keep crawling to his heart's content. You guys give me enough gray scales as it is.

Mike began trading around the kids like baseball cards, asking for sillier and more infeasible collateral as the evening wore on. His excitement wound up everyone else until the astral plane was buzzing with it.

Raph had ended up with little Raph, somewhere in the chaos, and Donnie only noticed because of the sudden crashing wave of regret-tinged sadness, so strong that the heads of all the adults immediately snapped towards the source.

Raph was sitting with his legs crossed. He had been lifting little Raph in the air, fingers splayed across the kid's plastron, presumably pretending he was an airplane and flying him around. He'd stopped, though, and was just staring at the kid with wide eyes.

Mike and Leo exchanged a glance, but Donnie moved faster. He slipped Lee back to Leo and made his way over.

Are you okay?

Yeah, Raph lied.

Donnie swept his gaze over Raph's barely trembling hands, his hunched shoulders. Okay.

He settled next to Raph, thinking hard about the way he always felt safe and comforted by Raph's presence. The love, aching and old and vast, that he felt for his brothers, and his love for the kids, new and overwhelming and joyful, and the satisfaction and delight he felt at bringing them together. He did his best to push these feelings towards Raph, pictured them wrapping around him like a blanket.

Raph sniffed, looking away and blinking. Shell, he said, voice breaking just a little.

Red, why don't you play with your Uncle Mike for a bit? Donnie suggested lightly, reaching over to pull little Raph into his arms and ferry him over to the others, thinking happy thoughts as he did so, trying not to let any of the kids catch on to the change in mood and, horror of horrors, fuss or cry.

Raph was still blinking when he came back.

Are you okay? Donnie asked again, a little firmer this time.

Raph swallowed, pressing a fist against his mouth for a second, so hard that the skin of his knuckles bleached light green, almost white, before pulling it away and clearing his throat.

I don't want him to be a Raphael, Raph said roughly, hushed as though revealing a terrible secret, and Donnie's heart sunk with every syllable. That kid is the sweetest kid I've ever met, Donnie. He deserves the world, okay? He deserves better. I just- I think about everything that I felt, growing up. How hard it was, sometimes, all my feelings that I just couldn't handle, and... I don't want that for him.

Raph-

Raph shook his head, eyes on his little counterpart who was currently riding around on Mike's shoulders, with one beaded mask tail clenched in his fist that was inching closer and closer to his mouth. Don't get me wrong, Don, I'm fine. It took a while, but I got here. But - I don't want him to feel like I did when we were teenagers and I'd blow up and stomp off and feel like shit. I don't want him to be constantly pissed off by everything from scratchy blankets to bad sounds to stupid dumbass comments. I don't want him to be scared about losing control and hurting the people he loves. He's happy, Donnie, he's so happy. Like sunshine, and I've never felt anything like that before in my life, I think, and I-

Raph pulled down his mask and scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.

I want him to be somebody, anybody else. I want him to keep being that happy his whole life. I don't want him to have to be a- a Raph, whatever that means.

It was hard to breathe, for how hard Donnie's heart pressed against his throat.

Raph...

He grabbed Raph by the arm, fingers tight around his bicep, digging in harder until Raph looked up.

I can't speak for what it's like to be you, but I can tell you that my life is so much better with you in it, Donnie said, staring him straight in the eyes because he was so absolutely serious. I live in a world without a Raphael Splinterson, and it's awful. Missing you destroyed me from the inside out. If Lee and Dee and Angelo had a you, had a Raph, they'd be the luckiest turtles in the world to have such a brave, strong brother who never gives up and cares so much.

But, wait, that wasn't even the point of it all, not really. They're not us, though. I'm not a softshell turtle. Lee isn't afraid of heights, as you've probably gathered. You're not the oldest and biggest by any notable degree, sorry to say, and I actually think you might be shorter than me, and Raph was just alright enough to elbow him with a scoff at that. Alan Turing once said that if you displace a single electron by the tiniest amount, it could mean the difference between someone surviving or being killed by an avalanche a year later. The point is, small changes snowball. They're not us, and they won't be us, because they already have a thousand little differences that are going to keep growing and multiplying as they age.

Little differences, repeated Raph. He took a breath. Well, I wanna give him one more. One more step away from being a pissed off, stubborn old grouch.

Donnie squeezed Raph's arm. Don't talk about my brother like that, he warned. I waited a long time to get him back, and I love him. Stubborn, pissed off, and all.

Raph huffed, the slightest hint of a smile flickering over his face at that before vanishing under clenched teeth and an averted gaze.

But, fine, I get it. I really do. I don't want Dee to make my mistakes. Mike! Don called, and Mike bounced over with a cheeriness that only seemed a little forced, little Raph still seated on his shoulders and Dee in his hand.

'Sup?

Nicknames for little Raph. Go.

Halfway underneath his mask, which had been pulled drastically askew on his face from various children tugging on the tails in various directions, Mike's eyes rolled upwards as if he could somehow see little Raph clinging to the back of his head. Oh! Sure! Um... uh... hmmmmm.

Well, now, don't go overboard or nothin', Raph snarked.

Let's see you get put on the spot for something so important! Uh, Raphy! Ree, Rafa, Faaa...el. El. El...fa...ba? Rara? Reggie? Raphala? Raphalapha-ding-dong? Raaaaa....

El, Donnie cut him off. Simple, yet distinct from the other kids' nicknames, and from Raph's own.

El, Raph agreed, and Donnie could feel the relief, there, a letting up of pressure, no longer a heavy drape of anxious, frustrated, self-deprecating sadness across his skin. Thanks, Mike.

No probbles! Happy to name any child or small animal, any time. He tried to give them a finger gun with his hand, but since it had a baby in it, it was more like an awkward sideways point. Everything cool over here?

Yeah, just needed a break for a minute, Donnie assured him with a thumbs up.

Raph didn't need to know about lit- about El's tantrums. The flying fists and tears. El's hoarse and desperate huffing, slowly creeping towards a vocal scream. It was honestly a little terrifying how much frustration could be packed into one tiny body.

But that was normal. Every child struggled to deal with their emotions, and given how new El was to the complexities of mutated thought and feeling, it was to be expected. It would be worrying, even, if El didn't get angry at all.

Come on, Leo, you gotta hold Baby Dee at least once! Or he's gonna think that his uncle doesn't love him! How could you do that to the poor li'l guy?

Leo stared at the tiny turtle with a pinched expression. His eyes flickered over to Mike's viciously gnawed fingers - which were only bleeding a little - courtesy of an indignant purple baby who did not appreciate Mike's loud noises, or Mike's quick movements, or Mike's... well, everything, actually.

(Their relationship was a work in progress.)

Dee had scampered back to Donnie at the earliest opportunity and curled up against the crook of his neck on the opposite side of Lee's favored perch. His tiny heartbeat fluttered against Donnie's own steady pulse, and now that he'd had some time to settle down, he'd started scritching against Donnie's scales with his tiny claws, presumably to soothe himself.

Donnie wanted Leo and Dee to get along, too, but on their own time.

Raincheck? He quietly offered.

A sliver of carefully-restrained relief, a tense rope finally let slack. Leo relaxed. Raincheck, he agreed firmly. He smiled.

...and as long as nothing comes up, we're all going to be free on Thursday. Same time.

An adults-only discussion of Donnie's future. Of their future. Whether Donnie should continue work on the portal, or disassemble it completely and give up on ever getting back to his brothers and his father and his friends (or at least until the kids were older.)

As much as Donnie dreaded the choices that were looming in front of him, he couldn't help the heavy-hearted relief as well. He wouldn't be making those decisions by himself. Whatever happened, they'd be moving forward together.

He'd never be alone.

Not ever again.

Raph, Mike, and Leo flickered out one by one, like a row of snuffed out candle flames, leaving Don standing alone in the endless void. Always the last one, always left in the ringing silence.

This time, though, he had companions to bear it with. The kids were fuzzy with overstimulated-tired-joy as they flopped in his arms.

(It had been a long evening, and he didn't blame them one bit. They were troopers.)

Okay, time to go, he told them, but in the second before he stepped sideways back into his physical body, dragging all of the kids along with him, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to look.

It looked like the spectral form of- of something, glowing green-

But the world was already fading, and he opened his eyes in the next moment to the familiar shapes and shadows of the tiny Lair.

When you're living with someone with secrets, and are holding secrets yourself, when do you decide to push? To destabilize the delicate balance, when you don't know where the chips will land? When you can't feel what the other person is feeling, to know for certain that something is too much or not enough, or whether they are comforted by you or fear you?

That leap of faith was, frankly, terrifying. Don wanted to keep pushing it off.

It wasn't a matter of if Don was ready, though. Lou deserved to know. They weren't Don's kids, they were Lou's. Maybe if Don cracked open the door, it would be enough leverage for Lou to push it the rest of the way open, and they both could just stop looking for landmines in every conversation. They could talk, and Don could get answers, all for the low, low price of baring the rawest parts of his self to a veritable stranger who just so happened to be a universal counterpart to one of the most important people in his life, and risking losing everything good he’d managed to build over the past few weeks.

Simple.

Lou stepped out from behind the makeshift curtain around the tub with his bathrobe on, one sleeve rolled up, scrubbing a towel up and down his arm. "Stupid fur," he groused with the air of someone who was just too worn out to be as frustrated as they wanted to be. "It's like I can't ever just feel dry and clean anymore. Although, eugh, living in the sewers definitely doesn't help."

"Can we talk?" Don prodded quietly from his place in the computer chair, which he’d wheeled out into the main room for this. "There are some things I need to tell you."

Lou draped the towel across his shoulders. “Sure,” he said, sounding more than a little unsure, and sat down in their other chair at the tiny table. He leaned forward with his elbows pressed against the tabletop. “What's up?”

Last chance to back out.

Donatello took a breath, and took the plunge.

“When I was sixteen, I was working on a project: a portal that was supposed to open a doorway to our allies, an alien species known as the Utroms...”