Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The question came from April, of all people.
They’d been lounging in her apartment on a rainy evening, hot cocoa in mismatched mugs, a break from patrol and chaos. The news droned on in the background, ignored. April had been working on some sort of “bonding experiment,” trying to get her turtle brothers to open up more. This was especially apparent after the invasion, when all of her brothers seemed to be sheltering their feelings from one another.

She can clearly rememberd the day that she gathered all of her brothers up and they all talked about that faithful day. The main thing that she found that was consistent for all four of her little brothers was that they were so scared of what the outcome was going to be. That they thought they were going to lose each other forever. And when they talked about Leo's self-sacrifice, which was like pulling teeth, there wasn't a dry eye in the room as they all surrounded their leader and brother in blue, holding him close and telling him how much Leo was loved and that they were so glad that Leo was still here with them

April was brought back to the present as she looked at the two turtles currently in her apartment. Ever since that day, she noticed how close Leo and Donnie were with each other. It was not lost on anyone that Donnie was the most affected by Leo's self-sacrifice. He was the main one to stay with Leo the whole time he was in the med-bay recovering, never once leaving his twin's side. Even after Leo was in the clear, Donnie remained by Leo's side, stuck to him on the hip, just like when they were younger. Even now, sitting on the couch together, she could see how close Donnie was to Leo, keeping one arm looped around Leo's and resting his head on his shoulder as the twins leaned their heads on one another as they scrolled through their phones

She leaned over the back of the couch, chin on her hands, grinning too brightly to be innocent.
“Okay, real talk,” she said, and they both groaned on instinct.
“No,” Leo muttered, sinking into the cushions.
“Yes,” April insisted. “I want each of you to answer this: What are some things that you love most about your twin?”

Silence.
Donnie blinked at her. “Define ‘love,’” he tried.
Leo snorted. “Define ‘twin.’”
April rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”
“Exactly!” Leo said triumphantly.
But then Donnie gave him a sideways glance, quiet and calculating, and Leo recognized that look: the fine, let’s play look.

“I’ll go first,” Donnie said, surprising them both.

He adjusted his posture, setting down his mug and his phone. His voice was calm, but genuine. He grabbed onto Leo's hand and squeezed it

“I love... that Leo always shows up. Even when he’s reckless, or thoughtless, or infuriating—he’s there.” Donnie’s gaze didn’t leave Leo’s. “I love that he can make people laugh when things are awful. I love that he carries more than he lets on, even if that’s also something I hate. And...” He paused. “I love that when I fall apart, he holds it together. Every time.”

Leo stared at him, stunned into silence. “...Okay, wow,” he said finally, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice at hearing Donnie's kind words. “Way to raise the bar.”

April beamed and gestured grandly. “Your turn, baby blue.”

Leo sighed dramatically. “Ugh, feelings,” he mumbled. But he straightened up, squeezing Donnie hand in return.

“I love that Donnie sees the world differently,” Leo said. “Like, really sees it. Patterns, logic, possibilities. I love that when everyone else panics, Donnie starts calculating. That he never gives up—not on his work, not on us, not on me.” His tone softened. “And I love that... when things were at their worst, when I was at my worst, he didn’t let me drown in it. He stayed right there by my side, like he had been all our lives. He dragged me out.”

Donnie looked down, he and and his twin's hands interwined. “I didn’t do that alone.”
Leo smiled. “Maybe not. But you were the first one to dive in.”

April wiped an invisible tear. “Okay, that was so much better than I expected.”

Leo and Donnie groaned in unison.
“Never again,” Donnie declared.
“Next time she wants feelings, I’m faking a patrol emergency,” Leo muttered.

But they didn’t stop smiling.

Chapter Text

Donatello's Log/Journal

Entry #2783

Note to self:
Never trust April O’Neil when she says she’s “just curious.”

Tonight, she asked The Question — “What are some things that you love most about your twin?”
And for some reason, I… answered.

Out loud.
In front of him.

No sarcasm. No deflections. Just honesty.

Gross.

Worse? He answered too. And it actually meant something.

I don’t know why I didn’t dodge it. Maybe because it’s been quieter lately, post-Kraang. Fewer emergencies, more space to think — a dangerous thing, in my opinion. Or maybe because Leo’s been trying so hard since… everything. The portal, the prison dimension, the guilt. (The way he couldn’t look at any of us for a week without flinching.)

So when April asked, I looked at him, and all the snark I had locked and loaded just… didn’t fit.
What came out was true.

I do love that he always shows up.
I love that he makes Mikey laugh until he hiccups, and that he even gets Raph to let go sometimes. I love that Leo is a paradox: the guy who’ll joke about everything, but also be the one who silently holds the weight when no one else notices it's gotten too heavy.

And I meant it when I said I love that he holds it together when I can’t.

I hate needing that. I hate admitting that. But it’s real.

I didn’t say everything tonight.
I didn’t say how scared I was when he disappeared. When the portal closed and my tech went dead and my stomach just dropped. How I thought that Leo was gone from my life forever and that I would never get my twin back. Never ever see him again. Never tell him how much he means to me and how much I love him

I didn’t say how long it took for my hands to stop shaking after we got him back.

But maybe he knows. Maybe that’s what his answer was — his way of saying “I know.”

He said I dragged him out of it. Of everything.
Maybe I did. Maybe I needed to. Because if he hadn’t come back to us—not just physically, but him, that ridiculous, infuriating, reckless twin of mine—I think a part of me would’ve stayed gone, too.

Maybe I wouldn't be here today if my other half was gone forever

He’s my balance. My chaos. My mirror.
My twin. My other half who I love and adored more then anything else in the world

(Still not saying this out loud again. Ever.)

— Donatello Hamato

P.S.
April’s never getting that notebook back. She’ll weaponize it.

Chapter Text

Leo's Journal

Entry...honestly whatever because I do not number these

So apparently we’re all in our introspection era. Blame April. She asked one of those “heartfelt bonding” questions and somehow got both Donnie and me to answer seriously. On record, I’m still not okay with that.

I said stuff I’ve never said before. Stuff I didn’t know I could say.

I said I love that Donnie sees the world differently. That he saves us, constantly, even if he never calls it that. That when I fell apart, he was the one who reached in and pulled me out. That Donnie had never left my side the whole time that I was at my lowest, just like he had always been since we were kids

And I meant it. Every word.

He didn’t flinch. He just listened.

It’s funny. We joke about being “twins” all the time — mostly as ammo. “Why are you like this? You’re supposed to be the other half of my brain, and you built a death-ray toaster.” But under the banter, there’s something real. Something grounding. Something that we both treasure

I don’t think I ever told him what it meant, when he stayed by me after the invasion. When he didn’t push, didn’t fix, just stayed.
Everyone thought I was strong because I came back. But the only reason I came back was because Donnie never let go of the rope. Not once.

He says I hold it together when he falls apart.
He doesn’t know that seeing him panic is the only thing that actually scares me. Because Donnie doesn’t panic unless it’s real.

So when he does, I do what I have to. I show up. For him.

He’s my constant. My clarity. My compass.

My twin. My other...and honestly better half

…And yeah, maybe I’m writing this because I saw him scribbling in his journal earlier, muttering like a mad scientist on the verge of an emotional breakthrough.

And maybe—just maybe—I waited until he went to calibrate his microscope to go sneak a peek at it.

Sue me.

.

.

.

Later that evening...

Leo sat cross-legged on the floor of the lab, Donnie’s journal open in his lap.

He’d told himself it was just curiosity. Just a peek.

But then he read it. All of it.

Donnie had meant every word he said earlier—and more. The kind of things Donnie would never say out loud unless he had to, unless something cracked open just right.

Leo sat there a long time after finishing the entry, the lab quiet except for the hum of machines. He closed the journal slowly, almost gently, holding it up against his plastron, right where his heart was

“…You drag me out, too, Dee. And...I love you too” he whispered to no one.

He returned the notebook exactly how he found it, spine aligned, pages flat.

He wouldn’t tell Donnie he read it.
But he’d hold onto it. Like a lifeline.
Like the rope Donnie never let go of.

Chapter Text

Donnie's Log/Journal

Entry #2784

Subject: I Know You Read It

To the trespasser (and let’s not pretend you didn’t):

You aligned the spine perfectly. Left no fingerprints. Even recalibrated the bookmark by half a centimeter to its original position.

Impressive.

But not impressive enough.

I know you read Entry #2783, Leo.

And normally, I’d be furious. I’d booby-trap this journal with glitter bombs and vinegar ink and write you up in my digital security logs under "Emotional Infiltration - Level 7."

But this time… I’m not mad.

In fact, I think I wanted you to read it.

That entry was too honest to stay in a vacuum. Too heavy for one shell to carry. And maybe I knew that if I said those things to your face, you’d deflect. Joke. Brush it off with that half-smirk and a “Who, me?” like always.

But reading? You don’t joke when you’re reading.
You absorb. You sit with things.
You feel quietly.

So, here’s my reply...to your silent reply.

You said I’m your compass. Your clarity.

But you’re my catalyst.

You push me forward when I stagnate. You pull me out when I overthink myself into corners. You challenge the way I see the world—not to disprove it, but to stretch it.
I see formulas. You see movement.
I see what is. You see what could be.

And I need both.

I need you. More then you could possibly know. And, to tell you the truth, I need you like my life depends on it. Because it kind of does. Without you, my life would be nothing. Not even worth living and I would just completely collapse

So if you’re reading this too—and let’s be honest, you are—then I guess we’re even.

Twin equilibrium restored.

(But if you touch this journal again, I will install a neuro-sensory tracking device that sings your full government name every time you open it.)

With begrudging affection,
— D

P.S. I left a note in your katana sheath. You’ll find it when you least expect it.
Don’t roll your eyes. Just read it.

.

.

.

Inside Leo's katana sheath, a folded note was placed inside that read:

Hey, Twin.

You’re not as sneaky as you think. But you’re worth writing to. Always.

Chapter Text

The mission had gone sideways.

Not unusually so—Leo would argue this was mildly sideways compared to their average—but Donnie’s narrowed eyes and increasing muttering suggested otherwise.

The intel had been incomplete. The Foot had upgraded their tech. And now, they were surrounded on a rooftop, flanked by four bots with high-output plasma cannons and too many drones buzzing like angry metal hornets.

“Leo,” Donnie said through clenched teeth, ducking a laser bolt. “Tell me you have a plan.”

Leo spun, deflected a projectile, and grinned. “I always have a plan!”

“You literally never have a plan—!”

“I have half a plan. It counts if I do it dramatically.”

Donnie groaned. “Fine. Improvised twin maneuver?”

Leo’s grin widened. “The old one?”

Donnie’s eyes flicked up, calculating in a heartbeat. “Modified. 40% more explosives.”

“Love it. I take left, you go high?”

“Obviously.”

They moved in unison. No further words, no second-guessing. Leo launched forward, drawing fire and weaving through blasts with practiced grace. Donnie shot upward, cloak billowing, a smoke grenade clattering to the ground as he released a shock pulse that shorted three drones mid-air.

Then: the pivot.

Leo kicked off a drone, twisted midair, and shouted, “NOW!”

Donnie’s bo staff struck the power condut behind the lead bot—rerouting the charge just as Leo’s katana sliced through the armor plate. The explosion was loud, bright, and way too close for comfort.

Smoke settled.

Bots down. Drones fried. Silence.

Leo coughed and pulled off his mask. “Man, we are so good at this.”

Donnie, singed but smug, stepped over a sparking pile of tech. “Honestly? That was borderline poetic.”

Leo bumped his fist. “No one syncs like we do.”

And for a moment, just a moment, they stood there—backs straight, adrenaline fading, smoke curling around them like the edges of a memory.

Then Leo turned, gave Donnie a side glance, and asked casually, “So… when were you gonna tell me about the note you hid in my katana sheath?”

Donnie froze.

“…How did you—”

“You literally signed it ‘Twin.’” Leo smirked, walking toward the edge of the roof. “Amateur.”

Donnie huffed, adjusting his goggles. “Tch. And you still read it.”

Leo looked back, eyes softer now. “Yeah. I did.”

He didn’t say more. Didn’t need to.

Because under all the banter, all the tech, all the reckless leaps and scientific plans—they knew. They always knew.

Twin equilibrium restored.

Chapter Text

The lair was quiet by the time they got back.

Raph and Mikey were still out doing recon, April had checked in over comms, and Splinter was presumably asleep or pretending to be. The adrenaline had long faded, leaving only the ache of bruises, scorched armor, and the uncomfortable silence that follows chaos.

Leo sat on the counter in the med bay, a cracked shell plate pulled halfway off. “So,” he said, watching Donnie dig through his first aid kit. “Any chance your tech comes with a ‘less judgemental’ setting?”

Donnie didn’t look up. “You’ll get the deluxe package once you stop using your body as a laser magnet.”

Leo smirked. “I like to keep things exciting.”

Donnie rolled his eyes but approached, gentle fingers pressing gauze along a scrape across Leo’s shoulder. His touch was careful, methodical.

They were quiet for a few minutes. The only sounds were the hum of cooling fans and the soft crinkle of packaging.

Then Donnie said, without looking up, “I meant everything I wrote. Just so we’re clear.”

Leo blinked.

Donnie continued. “The journal. The note. You’re… hard to talk to, sometimes. When it’s serious. But I needed to say it. And I needed you to hear it, even if I couldn’t say it to your face yet.”

Leo swallowed, his voice low. “I know. That’s why I read it. And I’m glad I did.”

Donnie gave a faint nod. “You’re not mad I kept it from you?”

“No,” Leo said, shaking his head. “We’re twins, not clones. You don’t have to tell me everything. Just… thank you. For telling me that.”

He hesitated, then added, “I wasn’t okay after you guys pulled me through the portal. Not for a long time. But you—your notes, your check-ins, your existence—they grounded me. Even when I didn’t act like it.”

Donnie finally met his eyes and Leo could see the swirling mix of emotions behind his twin's eyes, feeling touch by Leo's words

Leo smiled, softer than usual, as he placed his hand on top of Donnie's. “You’re the reason I found my way back. You keep me steady, Dee.”

Donnie looked away quickly, not wanting Leo to see the lone tear that came down his face “Well. Someone has to.” Donnie mumbled, feeling a slight bit overwhelmed at the emotions building behind his eyes

But his hands lingered a moment longer on Leo’s arm, a quiet reassurance.

After the patching was done, Donnie started to pack up.

Leo hopped off the counter, stretching. “Hey.”

Donnie turned.

Leo tossed him a protein bar from the shelf. “Thanks for dragging me out. I’m here to return the favor. Anytime.”

Donnie caught it, held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, smiling. “Twin equilibrium?”

Leo grinned back. “Perfectly balanced.”

And with that, they headed out of the med bay—side by side, hand in hand, the chaos behind them, the bond between them stronger than words.

Chapter Text

It was late.

The kind of late where the lair was quiet, lights low, even the hum of Donnie’s lab dulled to a murmur. Donnie was half-asleep in front of a screen, glasses askew, fingers still twitching on a half-finished schematic.

He didn’t notice Leo walk in.

Leo hesitated at the door.

He could’ve waited. Could’ve left it for another day, another crisis, another journal entry. But the weight had been sitting in his chest all night—ever since Donnie patched him up, ever since they exchanged those words that meant everything but still didn’t say everything.

So Leo stepped into the room and cleared his throat softly.

Donnie jerked awake with a startled, “—I wasn’t asleep! I was in a state of... conscious meditation.”

Leo smirked faintly, then dropped it. “Hey. Can we talk?”

Donnie blinked at the seriousness in his voice. He straightened. “Sure. What’s up?”

Leo sat on the floor across from him, pulling his knees to his chest. He was quiet for a second. Then:

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. In the journal. In the med bay. All of it.”

Donnie didn’t speak. He just waited.

Leo took a breath. “You said I always show up. That I hold things together when you fall apart. And… I do. I try to. But sometimes I’m just pretending I know how.”

Donnie’s brows furrowed.

Leo kept going.

“When the invasion happened, when I was stuck on the other side—I thought, maybe for the first time, that I wouldn’t make it back. And weirdly, that didn’t scare me. What scared me was the idea that if I didn’t… you’d break.”

Donnie’s eyes widened slightly.

“I saw it, Don. In your face. In your voice, even when you were trying to keep it steady. You weren’t okay. And that’s what terrified me. Not dying. But leaving you behind to deal with it.”

Donnie’s voice was soft. “Leo…”

Leo looked up, eyes shinier than usual.

“I’m not invincible. And I’m not always okay either. But I keep pretending I am, because I thought maybe it would help you be okay. Like if I cracked, we’d both fall apart.”

Donnie was silent for a long moment. Then he stood, walked over, and sat down beside Leo, shoulder to shoulder, grabbing onto his hand gently and squeezing it

“You’re allowed to not be okay,” he said quietly. “Even with me. Especially with me.”

Leo let out a shaky laugh. “You’re better at this feelings stuff than I gave you credit for.”

Donnie gave a half-smile. “You broke into my journal, remember? I have feelings. I just package them like top-secret government files.”

Leo laid his head down against Donnie's shoulder, squeezing their interwined hands. “Thanks for letting me be… real.”

Donnie nodded. “Always. No equilibrium if it’s just one of us carrying the weight.”

And they sat like that for a while—no quips, no rush, no pretending. Just twins, side by side, breathing the same quiet air, letting the vulnerability settle like stardust between them.

Chapter Text

Donnie's Log/Journal

Entry #2785

Subject: The Moment He Let Go

Leo came to me tonight.

Unprompted. No jokes. No masks.

He just sat down, asked to talk, and for once… he let himself be human. Or well, turtle in the case of us

I’m still processing it.

He told me he was scared—not of dying, but of what it would do to me if he didn’t come back. And I could tell, from the way he spoke, that he’s been carrying that fear since the invasion, maybe even since before.

It shook me.

Not because I didn’t believe he had those feelings—I always knew—but because he finally shared them.

He said he acts like he’s okay for my sake. That he thought if he cracked, I’d fall apart. And part of me hates that he’s been holding that weight alone. Another part? It understands.

Because I’ve done the same thing.

That’s the problem with being two halves of the same equation—we’re both terrified of throwing the balance. He braces so I can lean. I calculate so he can leap. But the truth is, we’re not just each other’s anchors.

We’re each other’s escape routes.

He lets me build walls because I know he’ll knock them down when I’ve hidden too long. And I hold his pieces together because I know one day, he’ll hand them to me without pretending they’re fine.

And he did. Tonight, he did.

He let himself be real.

And I didn’t panic. I didn’t fall apart. I just listened. And I think… that helped.

I hope it did.

Because seeing Leo like that—unguarded, afraid, honest—didn’t make me feel helpless. It made me feel trusted.

I don’t need him to be invincible. I just need him to be here. Him being here and alive, safe in my arms, matters more to me then anything else in the world

So I’m logging this not for analysis or documentation, but as proof:

Leonardo Hamato let himself fall. And I caught him.

And I’ll do it again. Every time. No matter what

— Donatello Hamato

P.S. I didn’t tell him, but I saved the note he found in his sheath. It’s in his gear bag now—rewritten, laminated, upgraded with a small pulse tracker so I’ll know if he ever ditches it.
It ends with the same line.

You’re not as sneaky as you think. But you’re worth writing to. Always.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a big moment.

Leo wasn’t looking for anything—just grabbing his gear before patrol. The usual routine. Sword check, smoke bombs, grappling line, first aid, protein bar.

Then something slid loose from a side pouch.

A laminated slip of paper, smooth-edged and deliberate. It caught the light as it fell—he caught it on instinct, flipping it over before his brain even caught up.

It was the note. The note.

The one he thought he’d left behind weeks ago in the sheath of his katana. The one Donnie had written in secret—small, dry, guarded affection squeezed into twelve words and a single signature.

But this version was… different.

Laminated. Protected. His name typed on a line inside. His full designation—Leonardo Hamato—as if it were something important. As if he was.

And written underneath in Donnie’s quick, angular handwriting:

“If you’re reading this again, then I was right:
You needed to.
And that’s okay.”

Leo’s breath caught.

He sat down without thinking, the gear bag still half-open at his feet. His thumb brushed over the corner of the note, and for a second, he just sat there.

Donnie had replaced it. Quietly. Deliberately.

Not for drama. Not as a joke.

Just… because.

Because he knew Leo would find it. Because he knew Leo would need it again, and because he didn’t want Leo to go looking and find nothing.

There was a line at the bottom, added in tech-coded font—probably just to make it extra Donnie:

P.S. You’re still not as sneaky as you think. Tracker says hi.

Leo laughed under his breath. Choked and soft and barely a whisper. Then wiped his eyes with his wrist and tucked the note carefully into a hidden fold of his chest strap.

Close. Secure. Right where his heart was. Right where Donnie always belong

Something to carry.
Something to come back to.
Something from Donnie.

He zipped up the gear bag and stood.

The others wouldn’t know what changed. They wouldn’t see the shift. But tonight, when he and Donnie fought side by side, when their moves synced with barely a glance—Leo would know.

He wasn’t just showing up anymore.
He was being seen.

And Donnie? Donnie was still the only one who saw him clearly without being asked.

Chapter Text

Donnie wasn’t watching him at first.

They were getting ready for patrol, routine as ever. Mikey was humming to himself, Raph doing warm-up stretches, and Leo had just returned from grabbing his gear.

Donnie was adjusting a wrist-mounted scanner when he glanced up.

And stopped.

Leo was quiet. Not unusual in itself, but this was a different kind of quiet—centered, not brooding. He was tucking something into the inside fold of his chest strap, deliberate and careful like it was fragile.

Donnie’s visor flickered, scanning without thinking.

Heat spike. Elevated pulse. Dampness at the corner of the eyes.
Emotion. Not distress, but… depth.

Donnie didn’t say anything. Just watched for a second longer.

Leo caught him looking. Their eyes met.
And Leo gave him the smallest smile. A soft smile, one that was mostly reserved for Donnie

Not flashy. Not performative.
Just… thank you.

Donnie raised an eyebrow, casual. “Everything in order?”

Leo gave a subtle nod. “Yeah. All systems go.”

Donnie turned back to his scanner. “Good.”

But beneath his calm tone, something unspooled in his chest. A tension he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Leo had found it.
And it mattered.

That night, on patrol, Leo was sharper. Not reckless, but sharp. Present sharp. He moved with clarity. Confidence. No pressure to perform. Just the kind of quiet, open focus Donnie had only seen a few times before. Usually after a breakthrough.

Or a breakdown.

They moved together effortlessly. Deflected a triple ambush with only two words exchanged. Covered each other like mirrored code—cause and effect. Spark and surge.

And later, as they stood on a rooftop watching the city exhale under starlight, Leo nudged him lightly with an elbow.

No words.

Just a look. One Donnie knew intimately.

I saw what you did.
It mattered.
Thank you.

Donnie didn’t speak either. Just nodded, slow and steady. Then reached into his belt, pulled out a protein bar, and tossed it to Leo without looking.

“You’re gonna need that later,” he said casually.

Leo caught it midair, grinned. “Still tracking me?”

Donnie’s smirk was barely there. “Always.”

And in the quiet between patrols, above the humming streets and below the blinking stars, they stood there—

Two halves of a code finally syncing
Not to survive
But to heal.

Chapter Text

Leo didn’t tell anyone.

Didn’t make a show of it. Didn’t even write it in one of the blank pages of Donnie’s journals, even though he knew the exact shelf, the exact encryption lock, the exact code name Donnie used when he was trying to be subtle.

No—this was different.

This wasn’t something he wanted Donnie to accidentally find.
This was something he needed Donnie to read. When it mattered. When he needed it most.

So he waited until Donnie was deep in a calibration cycle, goggles down, mumbling about oscillation drift and capacitor misalignment, then slipped quietly into the lab.

He slid the note into the same hidden fold of Donnie’s medpack—the one Leo had seen him use dozens of times without thinking. The spot for “emergency-use-only” stuff. Leo figured this counted.

It wasn’t fancy.

Just a folded piece of thick paper, written in Leo’s careful, not-quite-cursive handwriting. No stickers, no formatting. But the words had weight.

Donnie,

You never ask for anything, even when you need it.
So I’m giving you this.

I saw what you did. With the note. With me. With everything.

You didn’t just patch me up—you held me together.
You didn’t have to. But you did.

I don’t always say things the right way.
But I see you. All of you.
And I’ve got you.

No more pretending I’m fine when I’m not.
No more waiting for you to break before I check in.
We’re twins. That means I fall when you fall. I rise when you rise.
And when you can’t carry it, I will.

Not because I have to.

Because I want to.

— L

P.S. You’re not as unreadable as you think. And I’m still your favorite, even if the data says otherwise.
Yeah, I said it.

He folded it, sealed it with a small strip of Donnie’s favorite adhesive tape (the purple one with the molecular bonding icon), and tucked it deep where only Donnie would look when he needed to.

Then he left the lab.

Didn’t say a word.

But that night, when Donnie finally found it—hours later, maybe days—Leo wasn’t there to watch his reaction.

Because he didn’t need to.

He trusted him to read it.
Just like he had trusted Leo to read his.

And sometimes, trust says more than words ever could.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day.

Two near-malfunctions in the defense grid, a mild rooftop ambush, and Mikey had somehow spilled strawberry jam on Donnie’s secondary holoscreen. Again.

He was tired. Not physically. Not really. But cognitively—drained in the way only high-functioning minds could get, that deep-buzzing kind of tired that even sleep wouldn’t fix.

So when he reached into his medpack for a micro-clamp—just part of routine maintenance—he didn’t expect to find anything else.

But his fingers brushed paper.

His hand stilled.

Not a diagram. Not a label. A note.

His heart skipped.

He pulled it out slowly, carefully, like it might vanish if he breathed too hard. He recognized the tape first—his tape. Of course Leo would use that. Of course he’d know.

Donnie unfolded it, already bracing for… what, exactly? A joke? A “gotcha”? Something vaguely meaningful and frustratingly cryptic?

Instead, he read the first few words—and stopped.

His breath hitched.

He sat down. Didn’t mean to. Just… sat, like gravity had doubled. Like Leo had handed him the kind of truth that weighed more than anything else Donnie carried.

You didn’t just patch me up—you held me together.

He read it twice. Then a third time.

By the end, his hands were trembling. Just slightly. Just enough.

Leo had seen him.
Not just the caretaker. Not just the tech. Not just the brain.
Him.

Donnie pressed the note to his chest for a long second, eyes closed, pulse fluttering in his throat.

No one had ever written him something like this. Not so plainly. Not so Leo.

Not so… true.

And it hurt in the best way.

He didn’t cry. Not fully. Just that tight sting behind the eyes, the kind that meant something in him had shifted, just a little. Cracked open and stitched back better.

He stood, eventually. Folded the note with the precision he reserved for blueprints. Slid it into the inner lining of his battle belt. Right next to where the emergency energy cell used to be.

He didn’t need that backup anymore.

He had something stronger.

Later that night, on patrol, Leo glanced his way during a pause—just a glance, like he knew.

And Donnie, for once, didn’t deflect.

He nodded. Quietly. Fully. Let it land.

Message received.

And replied, not with words, but with the small, imperceptible shift of formation that brought them a little closer together.

.

.

.

They decided to go stargazing that night

They sat on the edge of the roof. Right there together, their shoulders touching

At some point, Leo took a steady breath before casting his eyes to Donnie. "Thank you Donnie. For everything" he whispered gently. Donnie smiled softly in returned. "Right back at you Nardo. Thank you for choosing me as your twin"

Tears came to the corner of Leo's eyes as he leaned his head down on Donnie's shoulder. "I will always choose you Donnie. Thank you for choosing me. For saving me" Donnie leaned his head down onto Leo's, placing his forehead against his twin's, as he felt his own tears building behind his eyes. "I will always save you Leo. I'm always here for you. Where you go, I go"

Leo didn't respond for a bit after that, the two remaining in that position in silence, like two puzzle pieces fitting together

After a while, Leo nuzzled his beak into Donnie's shoulder, right around the crook of his neck. "I love you Dee. Love you so much" he mumbled sweetly. Donnie sniffled as he wiped away a tear, placing a kiss on the top of Leo's head. "I love you so much too Nardo. I love you more then anything else in this world. My baby blue. My twin"

Leo giggled slightly as the two stared each other with teary eyes, Donnie cupping Leo's cheek and stroking his red stripes as Leo leaned his forehead against Donnie's, taking in the wonderful scent of his twin

The two of them soon left the rooftop and made their way down to the sewers, chosing to stay together in Leo's room for the night as they snuggled up together

Side by side. Perfectly in sync.

Safe and warm in each other arms

Exactly where they were meant to be.