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This blows. Donnie’s stuck in the lair taking care of Mikey while Leo and Raph are out on patrol probably having fun.
The youngest brother caught some sort of cold when they went out last. It’d been pretty chilly as winter fast approaches, and it’s the cold-blooded turtles first fall since they’ve been allowed on the surface– they’re not used to the frigid winds that blew on that particularly frosty night. So, of course, the littlest of them all with the worst diet and immune system, got sick. Furthermore, he is the most obnoxious when sick, somehow even more so than usual.
Michelangelo expects king style treatment whenever he gets even a runny nose, let alone a full blown respiratory infection. Coughing, sneezing, headache, joint soreness, chills, the whole nine yards. The sickly turtle’s been grumbling and groaning all day, refusing to be left alone for even a few minutes for ‘fear of dying alone,’ even after Donnie ran tests and told him it’s just a common cold. Currently Donnie is wearing a mask and running a warm bath for his little bro to make sure his body temperature stays warm.
“Is it ready yet?” He asks from his position on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around Donnie’s leg.
“No, Mikey.”
A moment passes. “Now?”
“No, Mikey.”
“Is it–”
“Mikey, I will tell you when it’s ready!” Snaps Donnie, his tenuous patience already worn down from the fact that he’s the one stuck helping. He’s always the one helping everyone else when they’re sick like some sort of nurse.
When the bath is mostly full he turns the knobs on the faucet. “Alright, Mikey, get in.”
“I don’t think I can stand, Dee. You’re gonna have to help me.”
“I am not doing that.”
“Please! Please, please, please?” Donnie looks down at Mikey, snot coming out of his nostril, eyes wide as saucers and watering when he sniffles.
“Get in the bath.” Donnie’s voice is flat and clearly frustrated. His little brother blows a raspberry up at him then places both hands on the ground to push himself up.
Suddenly and without warning, however, Mikey drops back to the floor with a terrifyingly real scream of pain. “Ow! Ow, ow, my stomach, ow–” He clutches his hands over his plastron and grimaces. Donnie begins to panic and scoops Mikey up, dropping him into the water and getting splashed in the process, but it doesn’t matter if something's really wrong. He stares expectantly, hoping the warmth will stop whatever’s hurting him, be it cramps or something else.
Then Mikey starts laughing hysterically, splashing around in the bath and getting more water all over Donatello. “You shoulda seen your face! You just got played, dawg!”
“Oh you little–” Without hesitation Donatello grabs Mikey’s head and shoves it beneath the water. His little brother thrashes in the tub, but Donnie only holds him under for a few seconds before letting him go. He comes up and spits out water, then jumps out of the bath and tackles his older brother. “You’re getting the floor soaking wet, shell for brains!”
“You tried to drown me!” Mikey hollers back as he tugs on Donnie’s mask tassels. In response the other turtle pushes on his face before Mikey bites the palm of his hand.
“Ouch! I am going to slap the green off of you!” Donnie shoves his little brother off of him, the sick turtle gathering himself with his shell facing his brother. Launching himself forward, Donnie shoves Mikey’s face into the tiled floor.
“Hey, hey, ouch!” Mikey struggles beneath his weight. “You are abusing a SICK TURTLE! THAT IS MESSED UP, DEE!” The littlest pushes himself off the floor hard and knocks Donnie backwards before tackling him again, sitting on his chest and pounding on his head like a bongo.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Knock it off you–”
The door to the bathroom slams open and both brothers, sat soaking wet on the floor, look up at their very disappointed Sensei.
“What is going on in here!?”
“Donnie tried to drown me!”
“Mikey was manipulating my–”
With four fingers and a pressure point both boys shut their mouths real quick.
“You are brothers! Quit this pointless fighting.” Splinter releases the pressure point, causing Mikey to flop onto the floor and Donnie against the bath. “And clean up this mess!”
The door shuts and both brothers groan, glaring daggers at one another. “Thanks, Mikey.” He only responds with another childish linguolabial trill.
With a huff Donnie gets up and grabs towels, throwing them all over the floor. “Get back in your stupid bath.”
Mikey huffs mockingly before getting in the bath, causing Donnie to stand still and twitch for a moment as he tries to control the desire to wrap his six fat fingers around Mikey’s neck and squeeze until his eyes pop out.
“I am going to my lab. You finish taking your bath and go right to bed.”
“Donn-”
Donnie slams the bathroom door behind him, not willing to let Mikey trick him again. He needs to cool off or he’s going to put Raph’s temper tantrums to shame.