Work Text:
The day started off like any other.
Master Splinter was having breakfast on his own, waiting for his sons to show up. The kitchen felt very silent without them. For some reason, he had a feeling that this day was going to be a little different.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a few moans.
The old rat turned his head, facing the doorway, ready to greet his sons and students.
All four turtles - Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo - entered the kitchen, one by one, looking whey-faced, dragging their feet. Their eyes were puffy and swollen and they seemed strangely tired, and mostly pale. Or in their case, greener than usual.
"Mornin' Sensei," they all mumbled before sitting around the table.
The old rat instantly sensed that something was out of place.
Alarmed by his sons' strange behavior, he responded while trying to hide his concern.
"Good morning my sons, I hope you slept well." Splinter narrowed his eyes, waiting for a satisfying response.
The turtles looked up tiredly and put on fake smiles nowhere near convincing for the wise rat.
All of a sudden, Donnie let out a startling cough that made everyone jump slightly, even Splinter whose suspicions grew larger.
"Donatello, are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"I-I'm fine, Sensei. Sniff. It's nothing really."
The intensity in his eyes along with the croakiness in his voice made his response unpersuasive, the old rat raising an eyebrow.
Without a warning, Splinter rose from his chair and walked straight to his purple-clad son. He placed a paw on his forehead.
Donnie swallowed.
The wise rat hummed as he felt warmth radiating from his son’s forehead.
"Donatello," Splinter let out firmly. "You have a fever." He sounded very unhappy.
"I-I uhh…" Don tried to speak but was instantly interrupted as Splinter raised a hand.
He then turned to his other sons who, of course, knew they were in for it now.
"My sons, I assume that you are all feeling unwell, if I am not mistaken." His brows furrowed, his voice sounding sharp and clear.
Leo, Raph and Mikey gulped as they glanced at each other before facing their sensei.
Not daring to deny their master's words, they slowly nodded their heads, confirming the old rat's suspicions. (They were too drained to argue anyway.)
As strict and firm as he can be, the wise rat simply wouldn't allow his sons to train in their current state.
"My sons..." Splinter finally spoke. "There will be no training today, only rest."
"But sensei!" Leo tried to protest despite the weakness in his voice.
Splinter shot his son a glare, who instinctively bowed his head as an apology.
The others sighed in defeat.
Though, Mikey was secretly happy not having to train his shell off for a while. He did his best to hide any signs of excitement.
Sometime later, the turtles settled on the couch, making themselves as comfortable as possible.
They had blankets wrapped around them differently depending on each of their chosen spots; Leo was on the right side of the couch, leaning against the soft fabric in a slouchy kind of position, already drifting to sleep, his knees close to his chest, his beak popping out while being nearly covered in a blue blanket. Raph, on the other hand, was lying on the other side of the long furniture, his head resting on a pillow, covered beak to tow with a thick red blanket. Donnie was resting on the long chair beside the sofa, near Leo, reposing his back on another pillow while wrapping his purple cover around his shoulders, closing his eyes and seeking peace. And finally but not least, Mikey was on the carpet lying on his stomach, his head supported by his hands while looking up at the TV while playing with his legs.
Splinter peeked at them from the entrance of his room.
His children.
He couldn't remember the last time they got sick. It only happened once back when they were turtle tots.
It mattered not. His sons needed rest.
And rest they shall.