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Donnie hated being sick. It was so unproductive. When they were sick, everyone treated them like a child. They felt useless. And every time they got sick, they swiftly dosed it with DayQuil and went about the day as usual. Sure, it was harder to function, but something so small as a common head cold couldn’t bring them down.
So when Donnie woke up in his lab in the morning and something already felt off, he knew it was going to be a long day. There was a nearly imperceptible itch just beneath their skin and the sound of the fan in the corner of the room felt like it was drilling into their tympana. Typically, the white noise was comforting, but not today, apparently.
They stretched out their aching back (a side effect of falling asleep at his desk like a dumb-dumb), shrugged on their hoodie, and put on their headphones, setting them to noise cancelling. Immediately, a small sense of relief washed over him when the fan ceased its merciless clicking and the feeling of soft fleece against his scales and shell was comforting. While the scars on their shell had healed from the invasion, it was still very sensitive and — as much as it pained him — they had to wear their battle shell much less often. At least his hoodie provided some protection, as little as it was.
Despite the relief of the headphones and hoodie, Donnie still didn’t feel great. He sighed, rubbing his face and taking one of the emergency DayQuil he kept at his desk for situations such as these before leaving his lab to make his way to the kitchen as he was, unfortunately, hungry. Upon their arrival, they were greeted by Leo slinging an arm around their shoulders, making them flinch violently at the unexpected touch.
“Morning, Don-Tron,” the slider chirped before taking a closer look at Donnie’s face. “Yeesh, didn’t sleep well last night?”
Donnie sighed as he lowered the noise cancelling so he could actually hear his brother speak, the sound of Mikey humming while cooking something on the stove filling the air. “Good morning, Nardo.” They grabbed a slice of bread off the counter and put it in the toaster. “I slept fine, but thank you for the concern.” They stared intensely at the toaster as they waited.
Mikey, who was cooking something at the stove (eggs and bacon, if Donnie’s nose served them right), called over his shoulder at Donnie. “Morning, Donnie. I’m making breakfast burritos if you want one.”
The thought of eating a burrito right now was actually repulsive and made their stomach dip threateningly. Normally, he enjoyed breakfast burritos, especially when Mikey made them, but today was apparently not normal. “No thank you, Michael, but I appreciate the offer.”
Mikey simply hummed in response and turned back to the pan in his hands.
Leo leaned into their field of view. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the piercing sound of a utensil scraping horribly against the pan Mikey was handling, making Donnie flinch and their head turn around so fast to look at the source that their neck audibly cracked.
“Oops!” Mikey exclaimed. “Sorry, Don.”
Donnie waved a hand in his direction, the sound still bouncing around in their head. “It’s alright, Angelo.” They did subtly turn up the noise cancelling, however, providing more of a filter between their ears and the rest of the world.
He turned back to Leo, who was still leaning obnoxiously far into Donnie’s space. Leo was facing him with a very unimpressed look on his face. “Stop looking at me like that, Leo.”
“Something’s up with you today,” Leo said, leaning closer to examine Donnie’s face and placing the back of his hand on their forehead. Donnie smacked it away.
“As I said before, Nardo, I am fine.” Donnie’s toast finally popped up (perfectly toasted, he might add, though the sound made him wince lightly) and they carefully placed it on their plate, grabbing a bottle of flavorless juice from the fridge as he headed back to his lab.
Leo cut them off from returning. “You feel warm.”
Donnie did not have the energy today to fight Leo on this. There was a small ache budding in the back of their head and the itch underneath their skin had only gotten worse in the small amount of time they had been awake. “There is nothing wrong with me. Besides, I have work to do today. The turtle tank requires some repairs and the remote is broken once again and Papa has requested that I fix it.” He sidestepped Leo and continued on his way.
The slider caught their arm in his hand, making them nearly drop their flavorless juice. They shot a withering glare at their twin and tried to pull their arm free. Unfortunately, Leo was holding on tight. Genuine concern was shining through in Leo’s face. “That can wait until tomorrow.”
“I am not fighting you on this, Leo. Let me go.” Donnie tugged their arm away and entered their lab letting the doors close behind them, effectively shutting Leo out. He slumped down into his chair as he began to eat, looking over the metrics for the repairs (and upgrades) on the turtle tank. Today was going to be a long day.
Donnie laid on the creeper underneath the turtle tank as they welded pieces together. The underside had taken a bit of a beating yesterday due to yet another run-in with Baxter Stockboy and his mousers. While he respected the young mechanic’s inventions, he was incredibly annoying to deal with. They only had one more thing to work on for the tank and then they were done (for now). However, it was the worst part of maintaining the tank: Changing the oil. The fact wasn’t made better by the throbbing sensation behind their eyes. It felt as though someone was trying to dig through their brain with a power drill. But Donatello wasn’t so easily bested by something as small as a headache (it was a pretty bad headache) or the way that his entire body felt hot (and dizzy) or the way that even with the noise cancelling on their headphones turned up to the max, the noises that slipped through made them want to cry.
Actually starting to work on the oil was the second hardest part of the whole ordeal. They stared at the tank in preparation for a solid fifteen minutes before finally getting to work.
It was unpleasant and uncomfortable. He had to take off his hoodie so it wouldn’t be stained with oil and had to put on gloves that were too warm and made his hands itch horribly, only adding to the wrong-wrong-wrongness of everything going on in their body. They were almost done when some oil splattered on their arm, and they instinctively tried to rub it off, smearing it around and making their stomach curdle from the sensation. They threw off their gloves and anxiously stimmed, flapping their hands so aggressively that they started to lose sensation in their fingertips. The stimming, however, did not help because the horrible oily sensation was still on their scales. He felt his throat close up and his eyes burned with oncoming tears.
They stuffed themself underneath the desk in the corner of the garage, backing up until their still-sensitive shell smacked against the hard concrete wall, making them yelp. Their noise cancelling headphones blocked out both the sound of the garage door opening and the sound of heavy footsteps on concrete.
He only noticed his older brother’s presence when his head peaked through the opening of the desk, the feeling of being trapped making Donnie stim harder. Raph evidently noticed this, as he moved out of the way and leaned back against the desk, out of the way of Donnie’s exit. He rumbled gently, the vibrations being carried through the desk and reaching Donnie. Donnie let out a high-pitched, panicked chur in response. Raph let his tail move slowly into the alcove, not blocking the exit but letting Donnie know he was there. He continued rumbling.
It took a little while for Donnie to come down from his meltdown, but eventually his breathing evened out and he stopped shaking. He felt more irregular vibrations passing through the desk and realized Raph was talking to him. They turned down the noise cancelling on their headphones.
“Are you okay now?”
In response, Donnie scooted forward, out from underneath the desk until he was sitting next to Raph. Raph was looking at him concernedly. Donnie looked down at their hands in their lap.
“Leo told me that you seemed off this morning. He said you might be getting sick.” When Donnie didn’t respond, Raph continued. “Do you need anything?”
Donnie didn’t look at their brother as they signed ‘Hug,’ and they were pulled into Raph’s gentle embrace. Donnie squeezed back, noting the way that Raph was avoiding touching his shell too harshly.
He felt a large hand brush down the back of his neck, drawing a chur out from his chest. “You should go lay down, D.”
Donnie blinked. They still had stuff to do. They shook their head no, though they didn’t let go of Raph.
“No?” Raph asked. “Well, Raph thinks you should lay down.” He continued stroking Donnie’s neck lightly.
Donnie pulled away. ‘I still have stuff to do.’ The TV remote still needed fixing. Splinter didn’t like having to go up to the TV to turn up the volume and change the channel. And the other day Mikey had said that there was something wrong with the oven. And Leo had been complaining about how one of his skateboard’s wheels kept getting stuck and tripping him up on the half-pipe. And most importantly, there was still oil on his scales.
Donnie got up and headed to the bathroom so they could shower and wash both the oil off and Raph’s worry stink, leaving Raph on the floor of the garage. They could finish changing the oil another day.
After scrubbing his scales raw in the shower, he continued to work through the still-present awful feelings of his body. Their meltdown in the garage had only served to further exhaust them, but they needed to finish the things they had planned to do today. The remote was easy and took maybe ten minutes to fix (though that was five minutes more than what he could do on a better day). A couple of the buttons had gotten stuck and the batteries were a bit corroded. In all honesty, Donnie couldn’t remember the last time the batteries had been changed, so that checked out.
Then it was on to fix the oven for Mikey. Donnie didn’t think it was normal for it to be this hard to breathe, but pressed on because he was a stubborn bitch when he wanted to be. Mikey was already in the kitchen when they arrived, probably making lunch.
“Hi, D,” Mikey greeted, before doing a double take at Donnie, looking worried. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” He abandoned the pan on the stove to take Donnie’s face in his hands and feel his forehead. “You feel really warm. Do you need something to eat?”
Donnie gently pushed Mikey’s hands away, not wanting to touch anyone right now. “I’m not hungry. I just came to fix the oven. You said you’ve been having problems with it, yes?” They crouched down by the oven, opening it and looking inside, ignoring the itchy feeling in their throat.
Mikey turned the stove off and crouched down beside him, hands hovering anxiously but not touching. “Donnie, I think you should eat something and then maybe go lay down. You don’t look good at all.”
“Nonsense, Miguel. I am feeling perfectly fine.” As if the universe had decided it wanted to prove him wrong, a small cough escaped from his throat.
Mikey looked unimpressed. “The oven can wait. Most things I can make in there I can also make on the stove. I’ll be fine for a few days without using it.”
“Yes, but why wait when I can fix it for you right now?”
Mikey looked like he was getting frustrated. “Because you obviously aren’t feeling well. You look like you’re about to pass out.” He shut the oven door and stood up, waiting for Donnie to do the same.
Donnie obliged, very unsubtly using the handle of the oven as support and trying to ignore the way that standing up made their head spin. They spoke through gritted teeth. “Like I said before, Mikey, I am fine.”
Mikey didn’t acknowledge his statement and placed another pan on the stove before heading over to the pantry and rummaging through it. “I’m going to make you some soup and you are going to eat it if you know what’s good for you,” he said ominously.
Donnie felt saliva flood their mouth, though it wasn’t in the good way. The thought of actually trying to choke down anything sounded unappealing. His stomach felt like it had shrunk down to the size of a pea. However, he knew that Mikey would win this fight no matter what.
They huffed and sat down at the table, silently grateful for the rest but not wanting to show it. They drew their knees up to their chest and stared down at the wood grain, trying to think of anything else than the smell of food that made his stomach roil. It wasn’t long before Mikey placed a bowl of osuimono in front of them. At least it was something light. Mikey sat down beside him, having apparently abandoned whatever else he had been making earlier.
Donnie knew Mikey wouldn't leave them alone until they had eaten a satisfactory amount of the soup. For a long moment he stared at the mushrooms and green onions floating in the clear broth.
In total, it took them around 45 minutes to finish the soup, and their stomach hadn’t settled at all in that time. Mikey stayed by their side the entire time, waiting patiently as they pushed the mushrooms around in the broth, watching the thin layer of oil on top swirl in intricate patterns. There was still a bit of broth left at the bottom of the bowl, but Donnie didn’t think he could stomach anything else. Mikey took the bowl away and began to wash it. Donnie didn’t move from the table.
Well, their brothers had made it abundantly clear that Donnie was on bedrest for the remainder of the day. That didn’t mean they had to be happy about it. It was, however, made better when later that evening, April came over, a box full of Jupiter Jim DVDs in her arms with a copy of Jupiter Jim’s Pluto Vacation IV sitting on top. Splinter had even given up the living room for the five of them to watch the movies together, Raph and April working to make a pillow fort on the floor in front of the TV while Leo retrieved Donnie’s weighted blanket from their room and Mikey got to work making snacks. Donnie felt appreciation for his family bubble up in his chest.
Raph and Mikey ended up falling asleep halfway through Pluto Vacation IV, but Leo stayed awake, occasionally checking his phone. By the time the movie ended and the credits started rolling, April had fallen asleep as well and it was just the twins that were awake.
Leo put his phone away and turned to Donnie. “You up for a turtle pile tonight?” he asked, keeping his face purposefully neutral.
Donnie did not indeed feel up for a turtle pile tonight. The idea of touching more than one person right now made their skin crawl. The itch underneath it had since turned to a raw, aching sensation that made physical contact very unpleasant. He shook his head no.
“Do you want me to help you to bed?” The slider sat up, ready to carry the weighted blanket back to Donnie’s room.
Donnie nodded, pushing the weighted blanket off and standing up, swaying a little at the dizziness that flooded their mind. Leo was immediately at his side, ready to assist.
“Y’know,” Leo started as the two made their way to the softshell’s room. “You’re allowed to be sick. You don’t need to keep trying to do stuff when you don’t feel well.” His face was nonchalant but there was a slight undertone of worry in his voice.
Donnie stared at their feet as they walked, not fully prepared to have this conversation. “I do not know what you want me to say,” they said carefully after a moment. He fundamentally disagreed with Leo’s statement. They were vital to the survival of their brothers. Without them, these dumb-dumbs would probably be dead. So they did, in fact, need to keep doing stuff when they didn’t feel well. What if they hadn’t repaired the bottom of the turtle tank today and their brothers had to go out on a mission? What if they had gotten hurt because he took a day off? What then?
Leo sighed. “I just… I want you to know that you’re allowed to take breaks. It’s okay to be sick. You shouldn’t put our wants over your health.”
Donnie stayed silent. Leo followed suit.
When they finally got to Donnie’s room, Leo helped his twin get situated before making to leave.
“Wait,” Donnie said softly. Leo stopped and turned around. “Stay?”
A small smile broke out on Leo’s face and he obliged, climbing into bed next to Donnie on top of the weighted blanket. Donnie snuggled closer to the slider, tucking their arms between their plastron and Leo’s, relishing in the warmth of their brother.
A light chuckle tore itself from Leo’s throat. “What’s up, Cuddlytello?” Leo asked as he gingerly wrapped his arms around Donnie, hovering over their shell for a moment before gently touching. Donnie didn’t flinch away.
There came a point every time that Donnie got sick where they suddenly seemed to crave physical touch. It wasn’t exactly too out of the ordinary for the softshell; there were plenty of times where he was understimulated and physical touch was one of the only ways to help. However, even in those times, Donnie was never to the point of full-body hugging any of their brothers. It was only when he got sick that he was like this.
“If you get me sick, you owe me,” Leo said as Donnie moved closer, burying their face into Leo’s shoulder. He began to gently rub Donnie’s carapace, feeling the pockmarks on the soft shell from the Technodrome and the long, rough slash marks from the Shredder. Donnie let out a soft chur. Leo let out one back at them.
The two of them fell asleep like that, Donnie tucked into Leo’s side and Leo’s arms wrapped around his twin.