Chapter Text
Baron Draxum is aware his presence in the Hamato lair is not a welcome one.
Ever since the defeat of The Shredder demon however, Michelangelo and for some reason the rat have been insistent on semi-regular visits. The youngest turtle is still insistent on this narrative of Draxum being a part of their strange ‘family’ now, and the rat is probably looking for another adult to unload some of his sons’ vast attention onto if he has to guess. The only verbal response he’s gotten from directly asking the latter had been incredibly unhelpful and predictably snarky.
“Just take your visitation rights and be thankful I’m not asking for thirteen years of missed child support, you deadbeat sheep.”
Well, he understands where Leonardo gets it from now. He doesn’t understand what part of ‘I am a satyr’ is not clear enough to settle the debate of his species though.
Regardless of the rather strange nature of the invitation on the rat’s behalf, Michelangelo’s more earnest one made with large and pleading eyes admittedly convinces him not to refuse and brush it off. So, a few times a week after work he drags himself into the sewers to stick to the kitchen or whatever room the orange turtle is in and avoids the dual set of glares from the self proclaimed twins and wary hovering of Raphael. The boy shows him his current art project or a new recipe, and Lou Jitsu perhaps gives him a vague nod of acknowledgement as they pass walking through the lair. And he hardly interacts with the other three. Occasionally Miss O’Neil may pass by and make a joke about seeing him in the lunchroom, but it’s a bare minimum attempt at civility if anything.
That is not what’s happening tonight though. Because Michelangelo is not here apparently, and did not inform him of his intentions to go out with Miss O’Neil to graffiti buildings. Leaving him alone with his brothers and father. Well, for all of the two minutes it takes for Leonardo and Donatello to spy him awkwardly standing in the lair after being informed of their youngest brother’s absence. The two almost perfectly in sync stand up together and march to the subway car he’s aware is Donatello’s room without a word to him.
Expected.
Draxum is content to leave and call the trip a waste of time. But, if he doesn’t at least make an effort to speak with all of the Hamatos Michelangelo may take it badly. The boy is quite hard to ignore when he gets sad or disappointed.
Draxum approaches the subway cart belonging to the oldest and largest brother. He almost assumes he’s also out for the night due to the lack of light coming from it. However, a deep hiccup he barely catches alerts him otherwise.
He steps in without much warning or thought. The noise sends him on alert. He’s certain the boys haven’t been on any patrols tonight or the last day or so prior. The possibility of the eldest being alone and injured in his room is planted though, and Draxum is prepared to drag him out himself if needed.
He finds an over seven foot tall fifteen year old lying prone on his bed and staring blankly ahead. There’s no blankets over him and he’s deathly still aside from the subtle rise and fall of his breaths. The boy doesn’t speak or acknowledge his former creator barging in or even shift on the bed.
He doesn’t seem injured. Draxum still finds himself standing over Raphael and looking over his form as best he can while he’s deadweight on his plastron. There’s no immediate sign of injury.
“Mmph.” He hears the boy let out a small noise as Draxum’s hands touch his forehead. He flinches and squirms a bit, but otherwise stays put.
“Raphael, can you hear me?” Draxum says, relieved to feel a perfectly normal temperature (for a turtle he assumes) forehead.
Raphael’s head nods. Not much, but enough for Draxum to confirm it.
“Can you speak right now?”
A single shake. Well, yes or no answers are better than nothing.
“Are you injured anywhere?”
Another shake. So purely psychological then. Not… surprising. With everything that’s occurred lately Draxum has been frankly stunned how well these four teenagers seem to be coping.
“Is this an unusual occurrence for you?” He asks carefully. His hand is hovering and no longer touching for now.
Another shake. Followed by a small whimpering sound mixed with rumbling clicks. Draxum can’t deny the sound would be quite endearing if the boy weren’t in clear distress.
“I see, do you like to be touched during these episodes then?” Draxum asks.
He sees Raphael’s large hand twitch. It moves a small fraction of an inch and his golden eyes become shinier with unshed tears. He nods.
“Do not force yourself.” Draxum says as quietly as he can. He places a hand over his, giving it a firm squeeze.
Raphael lets out a relieved sigh. Along with a gentle churr flowing beneath it. An image of a much younger version of the boy perhaps doing exactly this with Lou settles into his mind. It’s a sweet thought.
“I will need to leave for a moment, but I will return. I promise.” Draxum says and pats his hand before walking away.
Raphael just gives a nod. He’s still staring at the door when Draxum returns. A wet rag and some small freezable tubes he’s seen Leonardo chew on from the freezer. He sets up a stool next to the boy on his bed and places the rag across his forehead. The teenager cooes deep in his chest.
Draxum fights back the twitch of a smile. It’s best he does not get too endeared. Raphael is vulnerable and in his hazy state accepting help from someone who he’ll likely go back to keeping at arm's length after.
To that end, even Draxum himself isn’t sure why he’s even stepped in to help. Instead of getting his brothers or father who likely have dealt with this before and could help him just as well if not better. Something compels him though.
“Your species is quite fond of water and moisture, and physical sensations are good tools for grounding oneself.” He takes the frozen tubes. “I’ve seen the use of ice cubes in the past, but these will be less harsh on your more reptilian skin I believe. If you’d like to try holding them…”
Raph nods, and Draxum slips the tubes into a hand and closes the fingers around them into a fist himself. He holds the child’s hand in place like that for about five minutes. Then, he starts to squirm more and more.
He mutters something under his breath.
Draxum doesn’t understand what it is, but he nods along and releases the hand. Raphael drops the tubes and slowly begins to sit himself up. He peels the rag off handing it to him.
“Th’you.” He croaks out.
Draxum hums. “Think nothing of it.” It’s clear even if he still seems to be a little out of it, Raphael thinks quite a bit of it. His gaze narrowed down at his balling fists.
“There were days during some of my worst years, before I even found the armor… '' Draxum starts surprised even at himself for speaking up. “Everything felt too much. It was all so overwhelming and hopeless. The thought of what my people were going through, and how little I could do about it. How much I had already been through and lost trying to.” He takes in a breath.
“Some days getting out of bed felt like the greatest challenge I could face, and I could lose hours staring at the wall and failing.”
Raphael lifts his head up at him. Those tears finally just fall and he lets out a choked sob. It’s so easy to forget with his hulking figure, sharp beak capable of breaking steel, and easy authority over his brothers that the boy in front of him is fifteen years old sometimes. A mere child.
Draxum is very aware of it at the moment though as he watches Raphael’s knees tucked up against his chest and sobbing hard enough to shake his body. ‘And you wanted to turn this child into a bloodthirsty monster,’ a cruel voice in his head reminds him. His own regrets and loathing can wait for the moment.
He places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Raphael.” Draxum addresses him. “It is alright for things to be difficult.” It’s no wise sage advice, but it looks like it has some effect.
Raphael reaches over and yanks the yokai man into his grip. He hugs onto him desperately, but still not nearly as strong as Draxum knows he could. Ever so gentle and careful even when distressed.
Draxum is unsure for a moment. Michelangelo certainly liked to latch onto and climb all over him. But, he’s never even considered initiating contact with any of the boys. It feels far too awkward and entitled to even consider they might want him to with their history. But, as Raphael squeezes him with calming sobs and distressed chirps, Draxum finds his own arms lifting and wrapping around as much of the boy as he can with his size.
“You are safe, Raphael.” He’s used his name twice now. No The Red One or the other monikers he throws to each of them except the youngest.
“Your father and brothers are just beyond that door, and you are in your own home. Nothing will happen if you are not strong here.”
Raphael’s body releases a tension Draxum hasn’t been aware of until then. He still keeps ahold of the older man for a while and Draxum allows him to.
Eventually the teenager unwinds from him and sits back against the wall near his bed.
“Thanks.” He repeats clearer this time.
“As I said, think nothing of it.” Draxum states.
“I’m uh, really tired.” Raph admits. “So I don’t really feel like talking about it.”
“You do not have to.” Draxum says as he stands. “And I do not expect that level of confidence from you.”
Raph stares at him for a second. “Right. Uh, can you maybe just let the guys know I want to do a marathon in the living room? Really don’t wanna be alone right now.”
“That can be done. Gather yourself however you need to and I will tell them.”
“Appreciate it, Barry.”
He’s almost certain none of them have realized that Baron isn’t part of his actual name yet. He doesn’t correct him though, and simply lets that smile finally slip for a brief second before leaving the cart.
He shouldn’t be surprised to find the rat waiting.
Lou stares up at the man leaving his son's room. Curious and cautious.
“Ra- The Red One is having a rough time right now,” Draxum says. “He would like to spend some time in the living room with his brothers and likely you watching films.”
Lou Jitsu’s eyes soften at the mention of his oldest child needing something. Draxum has a fair number of insults he could give to the man’s parenting (if they wouldn’t open the gateway for his own sins to be aired tenfold that is), but looks like this one affirms that the man loves his sons with everything he has.
“I see. I’ll call the rest of the boys that are home, see if Michelangelo will come home early.” The rat tilts his head. A whisker twitches.
Hm, an oddly charming quirk.
“Would you like-“
“I do not think that would be wise.” Draxum interrupts.
He definitely feels like things are different for at least himself and Raphael, perhaps even in how he views this situation as a whole. But, it’s still tense and unsure, and the other two brothers would definitely seethe or worse at his presence. Tonight should be focused on Raphael. His crisis about finding his place in this strange clan can be saved for another night.
He bids the other farewell and returns to the surface. His apartment drowned in streetlights and silence awaits him. Before he’s even turned on the lights he’s bombarded with the thoughts he’s held at bay.
What was this? Why would he presume Raphael would even want his assistance? And why did it fill him with such satisfaction when he appeared grateful for it?
The obvious answer is Michelangelo’s influence. Time spent hovering over the boy, being shown his creations like a child hoping to get their drawing on the fridge, and taking trips out into the city with him have put a fondness within him he hasn’t been able to place. But, hasn’t he though?
From the moment he saw them - Draxum through even the corruption of the armor was filled with pride and awe at his creations. But, that had been as their creator with the mindset of them being more like precious handcrafted possessions. The feeling he sometimes finds himself stuck with looking at them now is both completely different and all too similar.
It’s the feeling that even through his frustration he has to admire how cleverly Leonardo can talk circles around him and uses the same wit in the exploits Michelangelo tells him about secondhand. How Donatello’s brilliant ingenuity reminds him of himself at that age - eager to discover and far too careless about the risks required to do so. Or how Raphael’s simultaneous strength, kindness, and control have made Draxum think more than once about the sort of man he’ll grow up to be.
Sweet little Michelangelo pulls him into his orbit effortlessly, and never once can the former nemesis bring himself to not give in. He may grumble and kick his feet - but he never actually tells the boy no when he requests anything from him. Because he doesn’t want to.
He thinks back to that one comment from Lou,
Visitation rights.
He wants to be a part of the boys' lives. Selfishly, he’s latched onto these four strange and wayward children he created for horrific reasons. Through the glimpses he’s gotten with Michelangelo he’s started to yearn for a fatherly(?) role in their lives. It’s a harrowing realization considering they very much have a father who loves them, is their blood, and didn’t experiment on them as infants.
He will have to speak to Lou about this later.