Chapter Text
It started on the day that Donnie realized—really, truly realized—how endearing his little brother was. He knew, objectively speaking, that Mikey was absolutely adorable. With that round face, bright eyes, and even brighter grin, he was (and Donnie could mathematically prove this if prompted; graph it on a three-dimensional axis, construct a formula out of the curve of Mikey’s cheek and the slope of his eye) undeniably friend-shaped.
But Donnie knew that on an intellectual basis, just as he knew that Leo had a wicked smirk capable of charming anyone on the receiving end of it, or that Raph’s snaggletooth did the opposite of what one might expect of such a sharp feature, upending his gruff visage with something decidedly juvenile in its asymmetry. This was different.
Having that knowledge and simply holding it in your head wasn’t the same as having it turn around and smack you in a place you often liked to advertise as being cold and dead: your very much alive and beating heart. So, imagine Donnie’s surprise when it did just that.
See, on that day, for no particular reason Donnie could discern, Mikey was irresistibly luminous (in a metaphorical sense, of course), and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was like he’d been wearing shades every day up until that moment to spare his poor retinas the roast, but then the shades suddenly vanished and every ounce of knowledge he had about his little brother hit him dead-on like the sun on a sweltering summer afternoon.
He was already concrete baked in the heat, he just hadn’t noticed.
He wasn’t very good at that sort of thing. Noticing.
Regardless, he felt relatively dazed afterward. After all, how else are you supposed to feel when you realize your little brother’s exactly your type? The epiphany occurred during the latter-end of a mission, and while they completed it successfully, he still felt relatively off-kilter for the rest of the day. His gaze would involuntarily follow Mikey even when the boy was idle, eyes lingering on his slim shoulders and the unique patterns on his skin before Donnie could shake himself out of it. His brothers noticed his odd behavior, of course, but after he assured them he was fine, they decided to let him sleep it off.
(In hindsight, that was an erroneous decision.)
Back in his room, he put the pretty little marble that the kind old yokai lady gave him that day as a prize for saving her life on a shelf beside the bed, stripped himself of his gear, and crawled under the covers. After a while of trying to convince himself that he didn’t think Mikey was incredibly, impossibly attractive on an intimate, personal basis, he eventually fell asleep.
Then, the dreams began.
———
The first dream was by far the most mundane of them all. It was essentially like any other day in their odd little household. The next couple dreams that followed it were much the same, too, which was why the alarm bells didn’t start ringing for Donnie until much, much later (even though dreaming about your little brother for several nights in a row should probably be considered rather strange on its own, however innocuous the dreams might be).
He was at home in his lab, concocting some mechanism he couldn’t remember upon waking, and deeply immersed in it when Mikey peeked past the doors and sprung his way in beside him. Not unusually, Mikey tried pestering him into joining the rest of his brothers in some sports game he couldn’t recall upon waking either, which led to a predictable refusal on his part. However, instead of bounding away like he could’ve, Mikey took a second to ponder something before he pulled up a chair and sat beside his brother.
“D’you need help?” he asked, peering curiously over Donnie’s shoulder.
“No,” Donnie answered distractedly. His eyes were glued to the mass of wires and circuitry before him, but even then he could still sense Mikey shift forward to rest his arms upon the table.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Reaaaally sure?”
Donnie took a second to genuinely think it over. “Yes,” he decided.
His brother tilted his head to the side. “Can I still stay?”
“Go ahead.”
After a few minutes of working in silence, however, it was obvious Mikey was getting antsy. He began to fidget in his seat. Then, he gave into his impulses and started fiddling with the random objects that littered Donnie’s workspace. When it started looking like he was going to jump up and start wandering the lab at any second, Donnie finally stopped him.
“Mikey,” he began, “what are you doing?”
Startled, his brother let go of the device he was messing with, a guilty expression crossing his face once it started sparking suspiciously after hitting the table a little too hard. “Sorry. Was that important?”
“It’s not broken. What’s wrong?” Donnie quirked a perfectly drawn brow. “You’re bored, aren’t you.”
“Uh… No? This is super duper, uh… intriguing!”
“Lies do not become you, Michael,” Donnie sighed. “Why don’t you just go? Raph and Leo might still be up for whatever it was you guys wanted to do.”
He pouted, crossing his arms defiantly. “Because I don’t want to!”
“What?” That made no sense. “Why?”
“Well, you’re always putting down what you’re doing to join us with stuff. Figured one of us could put down what we’re doing to join you instead this time. Plus—” his eyes grew comically large—“you’re lonely, aren’t you?”
“Scoff! No.” Yes. “I’m not!” He was.
“You totally are! I saw those project WIPs you posted online earlier—you only make those when you want someone to talk to about them but you don’t think anyone actually wants to listen!”
Donnie sighed. Mikey’s profound capacity to dissect his siblings’ emotional and mental states was honestly kind of frightening. While Raph and Leo liked those posts as a show of support, they seldom inquired about his projects any further unless it was to ask when they’ll be seeing them in action.
“So,” Mikey continued, “I’m here to listen! And just, y’know. Be here. In general.”
This was honestly really nice of him. Although Mikey hadn’t really done anything since he first entered, just having him here next to Donnie was enough to clear the fog in his head a bit. Even the sound of his brother mishandling his tools managed to ground him some. He actually wanted him to stay.
Still, Donnie couldn’t admit that. “You don’t have to,” he said instead.
Mikey nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“That won’t stop you though, will it?”
He beamed. “Nah!”
Donnie studied him for a moment before a fond smile snuck its way onto his face. He rolled his eyes in hopes of lessening its effect, but he knew Mikey still caught it. “Alright. Sure, whatever,” he said, turning back to his work.
Mikey pumped his fist. “Aw yeah, baby!”
“But for the love of insert-paragon-of-remarkable-scientific-significance-here, please find something to do besides fidget with my stuff.”
He giggled. “Okay!” he said, jumping from his seat. “I’ll be back in a hot sec!”
True to his word, he returned a minute later with a sketchbook and some writing implements in hand, plopping back into his chair with a look of satisfaction. Judging by the blanket wrapped around his shoulders (which he promptly tucked his toes under, setting his sketchbook on his lap), he planned on hunkering down for a bit. That realization brought another smile to Donnie’s lips.
For a few hours afterward, until their older brothers came back home with some (half-eaten) pizzas in tow for dinner, they simply spent time together. Sometimes, Donnie would break the silence to ramble about what he was doing, and Mikey would nod along, making sounds of acknowledgement or occasionally asking questions Donnie was all too eager to answer. Other times, Mikey would blurt out something that had just popped into his head, and Donnie would let him carry them away onto a discussion absolutely riddled with seemingly nonsensical tangents.
It was pleasant and—dare he say it—fun. Fun enough that when Mikey started making it more of a regular thing (from every other week to every week to almost every other day), Donnie started reserving a space for him by his side. His efficiency would decline and he’d work slower when their mouths started moving, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting anything done, and he’d make up for it with a clearer mind when the comfortable silence between them descended once more. The trade off was always worth it.
Plus, sometimes Mikey chipped in when Donnie needed another pair of hands, joking about how he was Donnie’s exclusive lab assistant. Despite his frequently silly, distraction-prone nature, Donnie trusted him with his tools more than he trusted his other siblings. That was a low bar, but still—Mikey was good with his hands (an artist’s hands, he proudly proclaimed; detail-oriented and steady), came up with some good ideas, and had an aesthetic sense Donnie could appreciate. They made some cool things together and they took pride in it.
Whenever Donnie would wake up after a dream spent like this, he would do so with a smile, half-expecting to see Mikey’s little sticker-laden station in his lab the next time he entered it. The slight pang of disappointment he’d feel when it wasn’t was of little consequence at first.
At first.
———
One night, toward the end of another life-like dream, he found the sketchbook Mikey always used when they hung out lying upon the floor next to a beanbag chair in the common area. Judging by its haphazard placement; the unnatural, sloping curvature of the beanbag’s seat; and the discarded pens littering the vicinity, Donnie deduced (within mere seconds using his tremendous intellect) that Mikey had been unceremoniously dragged from his seat by one of their brothers.
The sketchbook likely flew out of his arms. He wasn’t the type to just toss something like this around, after all. Art supplies were valuable to him. They were ‘instruments that sung the sweet song of creativity,’ if Donnie recalled correctly.
Curious, he picked up the sketchbook, using one of his robotic claws to quickly gather the pencils, markers, and crayons that had fallen on the floor. Another claw righted the cup that once housed them, and after gently depositing the utensils in the cup so as to not chip their contents, he placed it somewhere Mikey could easily find it again. Then, he thumbed open the sketchbook.
It occurred to him that he never really got a good glimpse of what his little brother would draw when they were alone together. It wasn’t because he hadn’t been permitted, either; rather, Mikey wasn’t the slightest bit shy about anything he drew, oftentimes showcasing his pieces proudly or dropping loud, thinly veiled hints for his brothers to leaf through his latest finished sketchbook themselves. Donnie just never thought to investigate until now.
Well, better late than never.
The first few pages were predictably filled with random ideas: scrapped superhero outfit designs, thumbnails for upcoming graffiti, doodles of their family in fantastical scenarios (Leo as a mermaid, Raph as a fire-breathing dragon, April with stick legs the height of the entire page, Splinter and Draxum… hugging?), notes for new recipes, etc. Like he felt with every other sketchbook of Mikey’s he’s perused, he was genuinely impressed by the rampant, unchecked creativity running through it. Each page was as loud and aggressively colorful as the last.
Then, as he neared the most recently completed pages, he began to notice a shift in theme. Most of the pages were filled with sketches of… him. Little doodled Donnies running across the page, working on a machine, snoring on a desk. Sometimes, little doodled Mikeys followed after him, eating ice cream, drawing on his face. In one small sketch, he had a mustache and monocle crudely scribbled on him. In another, his eyebrows were twice as thick and his forehead was thrice as tall. An arrow labeled “egg head ♡” pointed at his significantly pronounced dome, but Donnie elected to ignore that.
Some sketches were more serious, however. They were more akin in composition to a portrait than a doodle, where Mikey seemed to take great care in shading the concentration in Donnie’s eyes as he loomed over the scraps of a motherboard, or defining the musculature of his arms as he pondered a data screen.
It made him feel oddly… seen. Mikey paid more attention to him than he thought during their time together, and these drawings were concrete evidence of that.
For some reason, that sent a shiver up his spine, but the sensation wasn’t an unpleasant one.
The cutest drawing, though, and the one that really stuck with Donnie after waking, was just a little thing on the bottom corner of the last page. The last thing Mikey likely drew before he had been pulled away.
It was just the two of them as cutesy disembodied heads, but Mikey had a big, cartoonish grin on his face. To his right, Donnie was giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’re the best, Mikey!” read the big, bubbly letters atop his head. Both of them had little pink lines on their cheeks to indicate a happy blush.
Donnie wondered if that was something Mikey actually wanted to hear. Praise always did seem to be a recurring desire amongst them as siblings, and while Mikey expressed his appreciation of his brothers frequently in all manner of ways, the rest of them weren’t as liberally effusive. Donnie was arguably the most tight-lipped of the lot, too.
Part of him wanted to see what would happen if he turned the tables on his baby brother a bit.
———
It was on his mind all day the next day: make Mikey happy. Really happy. See what happens.
Donnie approached it as meticulously as he would an experiment, never mind that he didn’t properly conduct it like one. No control variable, no data points to keep (gasp!), no conclusive hypothesis to prove or disprove. Whenever the opportunity arose, he would just use it to praise Mikey, pet him on the head, give him a treat. He wondered if the association would be there by the end of the day: impress Donnie, get a reward. The thought amused him, helped him get his mind off the way the churning ball of feelings within him never failed to rejoice at Mikey’s mounting excitement.
At first, Mikey bristled once he noticed a pattern behind Donnie’s impromptu gifts, protesting at the thought of being treated like a child, but Donnie quickly assured him that he was simply acknowledging his brother’s accomplishments as they deserved. As was long overdue.
In the face of some sweet, sweet sugar, Mikey was quickly convinced. He knew when to play the lovable baby bro card to his advantage and when to honestly put up a fight, and this instance quickly proved to be the former. Donnie was effectively pampering him, after all, and it’d be a waste to reject special treatment.
By the time he’d given Mikey his fifth candy bar (pulled from a stash he kept in his battle shell), his other brothers were starting to get suspicious. And a little envious.
Leo eyed the candy bar with undisguised hunger. “You gonna eat that, Mikey?” he asked, fingers creeping closer in hopes of yoinking it from his brother’s grip.
“Hey! Get your own!” Mikey cried, jerking away. He quickly unwrapped the bar and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing rapidly. “I earnf vhis,” he said proudly, cheeks full.
“No way, Donnie’s just cheaping out!” Leo whipped around to face the genius in question. “Donald! C’mon man! Don’t bring snacks unless you can share with the rest of the class!”
Donnie rolled his eyes. “Fine. Here.” He pulled out a protein bar with one of his claws and tossed it at Leo, who looked at it and groaned.
“What? ‘Fiber Power Protein Max’? This totally sucks! Who puts kale in candy?” He pointed at Donnie. “Where’s my Snickers?”
Raph perked up. “I’ll take it,” he offered.
“No.” Leo tossed the protein bar into the dumpster behind them. “It’s got peanuts in it,” he sighed.
Raph deflated. “Oh.”
Mikey swallowed his mouthful of candy and grabbed Donnie by the side for a hug, thoroughly pleased. “Thanks again, D!” he chirped, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Donnie patted him on the head, smiling. “It’s all you, Angelo. Just keep up the good work.” Reaching into his shell again, he pulled out a sticker sheet and popped a sparkly purple star onto Mikey’s plastron. His twelfth so far. They all had cute little smiley faces on them.
Mikey squealed in delight and Leo let out another groan, louder this time. “Oh, come on!”
“Alright, that’s it.” Raph stepped in, grabbing Donnie by the arm and pulling his two brothers apart. “Donnie, we gotta talk.”
He took them to the side, stepping further into the dingy alleyway they were in and stopping a moderate distance from where their other brothers still stood.
(“Dude, don’t try to hide it,” Donnie could hear Leo say. “I know you saved some of those full-sized bars for later somewhere. Share some with your poor, poor candy-less brother. Please? Pretty please?”)
Raph crossed his arms, adopting that authoritative big brother stance where he just narrowed his eyes at you and hoped you cracked. “What’re you tryna pull with Mikey?” he asked.
(“But Donnie specifically said not to share with you,” Mikey replied. “Raph could have a bite, though.”)
Donnie huffed. “I’m not trying to ‘pull’ anything and your insinuation thereof offends me.”
(“What?! What’d I even do?! This is unjust! Discrimination, even! Inequity! 5 dollar words, by the way. Cha-ching.”)
“Nuh uh. I know you’re not doing this for no reason. Don’t think I don’t know you, Donnie. I just wanna make sure your reasons are good ones, that’s all.”
(“Well, um… Remember that prank you pulled last week? The one with the, uh—”)
“Kid’s got feelings. It’d hurt him if it turns out you don’t mean what you’ve been saying.”
(“Ohhh. Oh man.” Leo laughed. “Yeah. Say no more.” He snickered, unrepentant. “I get it.”)
“Donnie!” Raph bellowed. “Are you listening?!”
Donnie jumped, tearing his attention away from Mikey’s conversation to refocus on his biggest brother. “No, no, sorry. I hear you.”
“Like I was saying…” Raph sighed. “You’re being legit, right? Those stickers and compliments and bits of candy and everything are for real?”
“Uh, yeah,” Donnie said as if it was obvious. Because it was. To him, at least. “Of course. I’m not a jerk.” Every time he praised Mikey, he meant it wholeheartedly.
“But why, then? What’re you planning?”
“Oh, scandalized gasp! What do you mean ‘why’? Must I need a plan to bestow acts of kindness upon my brethren? Our precious youngest-yet-still-perfectly-capable brother deserves to be appreciated every once in a while. That’s all. Do you mean to imply he doesn’t?”
“No, it’s just—”
“Mikey!” Donnie shouted, catching his little brother’s attention. “You deserve to be appreciated, don’t you?”
“Heck yeah I do, baby!” Mikey yelled back.
Donnie turned to Raph. “See?”
Raph sighed, running his hand over his face. “Alright, alright.”
He dropped the subject and they rejoined their siblings shortly afterward, but Donnie frowned at himself for dodging his eldest brother’s questions. He was aware how out of character he must have seemed.
Still, what else could he have said? That he liked seeing Mikey light up after every compliment or that he liked knowing that his words had an effect on him? That he liked feeling Mikey’s eyes linger on him for moments afterward or how much clingier his already pretty clingy brother unconsciously became every time?
Wouldn’t those words sound strange coming from his lips? No, wouldn’t they just be strange, period? He couldn’t tell for sure. This longing for… for something felt foreign to him. Off limits. Different from the intentions a good brother should have, even though they manifested by innocent means.
Donnie liked supplying his family with concrete facts. Reasonable explanations. How could he answer Raph when he was still searching for answers himself?
———
Back at the lair, Donnie caught Leo confronting Mikey in the kitchen. For some inexplicable reason, he chose not to interrupt them, waiting by the side unseen for a suitable lull in the conversation to make his appearance.
“I’m just saying it’s a little suspish, Mikes. That’s all,” Leo said, shrugging as he leaned against a counter.
Mikey sighed. “You’re acting just like Raph,” he said, stirring his mug. He took a deep whiff of it before taking a sip. “Do you guys really want candy and stickers so bad? I give out tons all the time. You never complain when I do it.”
“Yeah, but this is Donnie we’re talking about! Who knows what he could be planning! And he’s definitely just targeting you with his nefarious schemes, baby brother. What if he’s trying to turn you against us before starting the greatest prank war in history? What if he’s trying to turn you into one of those German guys’s dogs with the bells?”
“Pavlov?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Wasn’t he Russian?”
“That’s what I said. Anyway, what matters is that—”
“Leo, I’m not stupid. He wouldn’t be able to condition me like that even if he was trying,” Mikey said. “I’m just having some fun. Besides, I’m not that easy to win over.” He chuckled. “Donnie’s still only like… my second favorite brother.”
“Oh?” Leo voiced with interest.
Donnie paused. What? Second? Oh no. Nope. Time to storm in with a healthy dose of righteous indignation.
He stepped forward. “Really,” he intoned flatly, announcing his presence.
Mikey jumped. “D?!” he hiccuped, spilling a bit of his tea.
Leo’s eyes widened before his expression became categorically smug. “Did you hear him, Donnie? Second favorite,” he snickered. “I’m probably first. Right? I’m totally first.”
Donnie quirked a brow at Mikey, prompting him to elaborate and/or confirm or deny this information.
Mikey gulped. “R-Raph’s first.” At Leo’s shock, he added, voice small, “He gives the best hugs…”
“Why, I never! By my own brother!” Leo gasped. Then, he shrugged. “Fine, you guys can hash this out yourselves. I’m gonna go mess with Raph. I’m probably his favorite, at least.”
When Leo left, Donnie neared his little brother. “You mean it, then,” he said after a moment of silence, testing the waters.
“Um… Uh…” Mikey trailed off. “Sorry. That probably didn’t feel too good to hear, did it? I mean, gosh, you must be pretty hurt right now.” He hung his head, contrite. After spotting the collection of happy little star stickers Donnie left on his plastron, his heart visibly sank even more as he remembered all the nice things that had happened that day.
He was getting guilty and Donnie hadn’t even said anything yet.
Honestly, he usually wouldn’t care about something as trifling as this. He devised his own ‘favorite bro’ list by putting their names in alphabetical order (with him at the top by virtue of the system alone, truly), and he doubted his brothers’ lists would have a similar reputable method behind them. They were likely based on some arbitrary whim. Regardless, he loved each of them indescribably, and he knew they loved him. So, it was of little concern to him.
Still, he illogically felt the need to claw his way up higher in Mikey’s ranks. To sit at the top. To occupy that much more space in his heart.
Just then, something occurred to Donnie and he fought to keep the smirk off his lips. He wasn’t a master manipulator like Leo or even Mikey himself, but he could work with this. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel very good at all. In fact, I feel terrible,” he intoned seriously. He inched closer to Mikey, slinging an arm over his shoulder.
His eyes grew wide. Got him. “Really? But I—”
“Certainly. Especially since you’re my favorite brother, Mikey.”
He froze, a deer in the headlights. “Wh-What? I am?” he asked, big eyes gleaming wetly. “For real?”
Donnie hummed in affirmation. He kissed Mikey’s cheek lightly, invoking that sketch he saw in his dream. “You’re the best, Mikey. Period.”
Mikey searched his face for the truth, but Donnie kept his expression resolutely flat. After a beat of silence filled with increasingly tearful eye contact, Mikey turned around to face his brother fully, tackling him into a hug. “No! I lied! I’m sorry!” he blubbered, rubbing his face on Donnie’s plastron. “I don’t actually play favorites, I swear! How could I?! I just say I do sometimes! Well, okay, maybe , it might’ve been for real a few times, but the list’s always changing anyway because I can’t make up my mind so you’ve probably been first place on it a bunch already—”
Donnie finally let that smirk take the reins. He wrapped his arms around Mikey. “Are my hugs not as good as Raph’s?” he asked, cutting into his brother’s tirade by leaning in and rubbing soothing circles atop his shell.
“No, they’re great, actually!” Mikey squeezed tighter. “They’re perfect!”
Something in Donnie’s chest swelled. His smirk fell and a genuine smile took its place. He pressed closer, burrowing his face into his little brother’s neck, scratching an itch within him he simply could not name. “That’s good,” he murmured, lips ghosting over soft skin.
He might’ve been imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he felt a shiver run through Mikey just then.
“Could you do them more often?” Mikey muttered.
“Sure,” he allowed. “For you, maybe.”
———
Donnie’s next few dreams dug into the (already remarkably-sized) soft spot he had for his little brother and turned that spot into a gaping chasm.
Once, when they were hanging out like usual, Donnie had gotten so absorbed in his work he had missed how late it had gotten. It was sometime past 2 a.m., his clock told him. A dazed glance at his side revealed that Mikey had already passed out, leaving the game he had been playing stuck on the pause menu.
Donnie made sure to save the game before he turned it off and put it away. Then, he inspected his sleeping brother. He didn’t want to wake Mikey when he was sleeping so well, but it wouldn’t be good for him to stay, either.
Acutely aware of how heavy his own eyelids had gotten, Donnie elected not to think about it too hard. He would just drop Mikey off at his room before going to bed. Simple.
With a yawn, he gently lifted his little brother into his arms. For a brief moment, Mikey stirred and Donnie expected him to wake up, but he simply nuzzled further into the embrace instead, murmuring unintelligibly. When he got to Mikey’s room, he used one of his claws to lift the covers of the bed before he settled Mikey onto it. Then, he lowered the covers to blanket him properly.
Right when he was almost done tucking him in, Mikey finally reacted. “Donnie?” he asked, blinking blearily. “What’re you… doing?”
Caught off guard, Donnie jerked away. “Tucking you in, dum-dum,” he answered quietly, still unwilling to rouse his brother fully. “You fell asleep in my lab.”
Mikey chuckled sleepily. “So you carried me to bed?”
Donnie pursed his lips. Mikey chuckled again. “Thanks, D.”
“It’s… whatever,” Donnie muttered. “Just go back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Mikey started to snuggle deeper into bed when something suddenly occurred to him and he stopped. “Wait—can… can you—”
“What?”
He trained two big, sparkling eyes on Donnie, suddenly lucid. “Can you gimme a little smooch goodnight?” he asked.
Donnie paused. “A what.”
“Y’know. A smooch.” Mikey tapped his cheek and puckered his lips. “Right here. Like this!” He kissed the air. “Mwah!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He shook his head.
“You actually want me to…”
He nodded. Rapidly.
Donnie crossed his arms with a sigh. “I thought you didn’t like being treated like a child.”
“I don’t! This isn’t! Everyone—child and teenage mutant turtle alike—deserves a goodnight kiss. That’s like… the law.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Whateverrrrrr. C’monnnnn,” Mikey whined. He sounded much more awake now. Curses. “I did say ‘everyone.’ That means you too, y’know. I’ll give you one of your own if you want.”
“Tempting, but I’ll have to decline.”
Mikey didn’t say anything more. Instead, he directed the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage onto his older brother, who promptly began to buckle under their weight.
He groaned. “Fine!” he hissed. Mikey beamed.
Donnie leaned down, pressed a quick, chaste kiss onto Mikey’s cheek, and then pulled away. “There,” he announced. “You’ve been goodnight smooched.”
“Donnieeeee! That was so weak,” Mikey groused, frowning.
“I’m opposed to this on principle.”
“Try again. Please?”
Donnie huffed. “Alright.”
This time, the kiss was half a second longer and had just that much more pressure behind it. Still, Mikey wasn’t satisfied. “Let me show you how it’s done,” he declared.
“What? What do you mean—”
He took Donnie’s face in hand, pulled him closer, and pressed a firm kiss onto his cheek, parting with a resounding smack.
“Mwah! There! See! Just like that!”
Despite himself, Donnie flushed. “Okay, I get it,” he said, his hand instinctively rising to palm the spot Mikey had just kissed.
Without giving himself a chance to really think it through, he dove forward and gave his little brother a thorough goodnight smooch. Lips and nose to cheek. The real stuff. “Mwah,” he said while pulling back.
Mikey beamed at him. “That. Was. Perfect!”
“Perfect, huh,” he echoed flatly. “Great.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet. Thanks bro!” Mikey chuckled. Then, he resumed shuffling deeper under the covers. “Okay. You can go now. Goodnight. Sweet dreams!”
Donnie gave him a wry, exasperated smile. “Sweet dreams,” he deadpanned fondly.
After that experience, Donnie expected his little brother to exercise some more caution when spending time with him so that he wouldn’t end up passed out in the lab again. For the most part, Mikey did pretty well, but… sometimes, Donnie would turn around and find him out cold again. Every time, he would dutifully put him to bed, and every time, Mikey would insist on another goodnight kiss. Vaguely, Donnie suspected his seemingly innocent little brother of doing it all on purpose. However, to what ends, he knew not.
At some point, goodnight kisses became the norm. He didn’t know what to make of it. Even when Mikey remembered to walk out on his own two feet, he would still yawn, pad over to Donnie, and tug on his arm until the older turtle turned around and planted one on him. Eventually, he started looking for Donnie even when they weren’t together. Like clockwork. A new bedtime routine.
He realized that Mikey wasn’t seeking out their other brothers for the same treatment when Donnie gave him a smooch one night and they simply gaped at him curiously, whispering to each other as Mikey ambled away afterward.
He didn’t know what to make of that, either.
———
It was game night in the waking world. Or some impromptu facsimile of one. Their latest mission ended with them fleeing a totaled comic book store, but right before they left, Leo pilfered a huge Jupiter Jim strategy board game he had his eyes on during the entire fight. Raph berated him about thievery when they got back to the lair, but he still ended up joining in when Leo excitedly cracked the thing open and called dibs on the coolest looking player piece.
(“One little missing board game isn’t gonna put them in the red, Big Red! Their decimated store will. Compared to that, we are but Cheeto dust in the wind,” Leo said simply, much to Ralph’s annoyance. “Besides, I heard they got insurance.”)
A little theft never bothered Donnie (nay, perhaps one might even consider it an… underutilized skill of his), so he readily joined in after grabbing the second coolest piece and nabbing the rule book his brothers were undoubtedly going to neglect. He gave them all a quick summary of the most important aspects of the game while Raph and Mikey picked pieces of their own. Then, it was on.
For hours.
They had begun the game at the table, but eventually, it expanded to encompass the entire room. Colonies and space stations in the form of little plastic figurines and punched-out, folded sheets of colorful cardboard paper consumed every available space. All of them became immersed in their roles as intergalactic warlords with the exception of Mikey, who was the elected representative of a semi-pacifistic planetary coalition. He spent a quarter of the game painstakingly lobbying for Head of Council instead of conquering them by force or deception, putting him last amongst his brothers. Still, his efforts eventually paid off because he won the seat by a landslide.
Leo and Donnie were toe-to-toe for first in the ranks, claiming the majority of deep space territory. Meanwhile, Raph had reformed, choosing to ally with Mikey after Leo had breached a centuries-long peace treaty between their people in a strategic bid to usurp three-fourths of Donnie’s border colonies, irreparably weakening his front line. Together, Raph and Mikey served as the sole united front left standing against the ever-imposing blue and purple empires.
Then, the unexpected happened: Mikey had won. As a trusted member of his coalition, Raph came in close second.
Wrapped up in the thrill of power and competition, Leo and Donnie had forgotten the original objective of the game. They weren’t supposed to be raging massive, costly territory wars and sweeping half of the myriad galaxies before them under their flags. They were supposed to grow and run a sprawling intergalactic enterprise that encouraged harmonious interspecies relations. Right at the height of their power, Mikey and Raph invaded both of their empires with Jupiter Jim spearheading the attack, effectively sending their tyrannical regimes toppling down by order of the prime directive: peace.
Leo howled in despair before his fallen empire, cradling the plastic pieces of his dethroned mothership in his hands. “I failed them! I failed my people!” he sobbed.
Raph wiped off his warpaint and patted his bereaved brother on the back. “It’s okay, Leo. You just lost sight of the bigger picture, that’s all,” he soothed. “You had some great policies.”
“My policies were failures!” Utterly defeated, Leo threw himself into Raph’s arms. “Hold me,” he requested mournfully.
“There, there.”
Donnie, on the other hand, was still in denial. His brain was working on overdrive, scanning his decimated empire and the rule book in rapid turns, hoping for a way to salvage this disaster. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled to himself. “This can’t be how it ends!”
Beside him, Mikey yawned. “C’mon, Donnie. We’ve been at this for ages and it’ll be morning in a couple hours.” He shrugged. “You lost, I won.”
“Loss?! Hah! I’ve never known such a thing!”
Despite his blustering, however, Donnie could feel his thoughts start to lag. It was getting harder and harder to come up with a loophole to assuage his defeat. It had been a long day. The mission had been rather demanding, and the board game even more so.
Frustrated, he threw the rules to the ground. “Stupid thing!” he cried. “You’re nothing as sacred as a handbook! You are an accursed tome of deceit!”
With this last outburst, his heightened emotional state fizzled out and his shoulders slumped, brain fried. It was getting fuzzy up there. His thoughts went from racing a mile a millisecond to trudging through a sludge pit. He was done.
“I had fun, but I think I’m gonna go to bed now, guys,” Mikey announced drowsily. “I think we all should, honestly.”
Raph and Leo voiced their agreements, looking rather exhausted themselves. “We can just clean this up tomorrow, right?”
“Today’s tomorrow, Leo,” Raph sighed.
“Nooo… Tomorrow’s after I wake up. As far as I’m concerned, it’s still yesterday.” He yawned. “Or today. Whatever works.”
Donnie hummed absentmindedly in response to the chatter, thinking of his own bed. Sleep. He probably needed that.
Sleep’s been pretty good lately, actually. Ever since the dreams started, he felt more well-rested in the mornings and he got through more nights without waking periodically. He still drifted in and out of consciousness sometimes, but falling back asleep was much easier. Because the dreams were such absurdly pleasant experiences, he found himself sleeping in and going to bed at more reasonable hours with greater frequency. As opposed to disrupting his work/life balance, it actually aided it. With a clearer mind (and a better mood) in the mornings, he got more done in exchange.
Maybe Raph and Mikey were right all along. Catching enough Z’s at night was healthier in the long run.
Now on autopilot, it took Donnie a moment to realize that his little brother was still talking—and to him specifically—but even then his synapses weren’t firing quite right. He registered the words ‘goodnight’ and ‘Donnie’ in the same sentence, so given his most recent train of thought (comfy, comfy dreams) and his brain’s currently abysmal framerate, he defaulted to a habit he hadn’t even realized he had already developed in lieu of actually having to formulate a coherent reply.
He turned to Mikey. Then, he guided Mikey’s face closer. “Mwah,” he droned prematurely as he leaned over, smooching his brother on the cheek as soon as the statement left his mouth. “‘Night. Sweet dreams.”
His mind was blissfully empty when he pulled away, only distantly registering the pleasant feel of Mikey’s warm skin beneath his lips. It felt just like it did in his dreams. How nice.
He only snapped out of it when he realized how quiet it had gotten.
Leo, still lounging in Raph’s arms like he was hogging a loveseat, gawked at Donnie, an impending outburst of laughter hinted in the occasional twitch of his lips. Meanwhile, Raph simply stared, clearly bemused.
“‘Mwah’?” Leo asked with audible restraint. He sounded like he had just heard the best thing ever. “Dude, what?”
Mikey, however, looked genuinely delighted. Over the moon, even. You could see the stars twinkling in his big ol’ eyes. “Omigosh, Donnie!” he gasped. “Was that… a goodnight smooch?!”
Oh no. Suddenly, Donnie was very awake.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, averting his gaze.
Mikey squealed. “It was! It was!” he cheered. “Won the game, got smooched by Donnie without even having to ask first—oh, baby! Best night ever!”
The little victory dance he did almost made up for the fact that Donnie slipped up. A little smile started to tug on his lips, but then he caught Leo hopping off Raph and sauntering over.
Leaning into Donnie, Leo stroked his chin with a smirk and asked, “Can I have a smooch too, Don darling? I’ll sleep sooo much better.”
Donnie could spot Raph shooting him a hopeful look over Leo’s shoulder. Even though he was respectfully hanging back, he seemed to want one too.
Donnie groaned. The fastest way to get them to drop this was to just go along with it. “Fine!”
He gave Leo a begrudging little peck before rushing up to Raph and doing the same. Leo looked disappointed, but Raph pumped his fist. “Yes!” he cheered quietly.
“Aw, c’mon. Mikey definitely got the better smooch,” Leo said.
Donnie lifted an eyebrow. “And what of it?”
Mikey whooped. “Oh man it’s good to be me tonight!”
———
Later, as he crawled into bed, Donnie contemplated Mikey’s joy. He reacted to the mistakenly-allotted goodnight kiss with even greater excitement than he had in Donnie’s dreams. Why? The circumstances had been different between them, and reality couldn’t employ the same excuses a fantastical mindscape could by way of plausibility. Did that just mean his joy was a constant given this specific thing? Or did it mean something else?
Would he be even happier if the kisses were a regular thing, too?
Donnie pulled out his phone, opened up the messaging app. Tapped on Mikey’s contact.
Going forward, if you want another “goodnight smooch”
*shudder*
You are free to come to me
Do NOT tell Raph or Leo. Or else!!!
Seconds later, his phone started buzzing.
Y
E
S!!!!!!!
🤩🎉🎉😋🥳🥳🥳😚💜🧡💜🧡💜🧡
———
Mikey took him up on his texted offer as soon as he could. The next night, he skipped up to Donnie in his pajamas, leaned forward expectantly, and tapped his cheek. “One smooch please, good sir!”
Donnie huffed a laugh but did as he asked. Then, when Mikey was about to hop happily away, a goodnight on the tip of his tongue, Donnie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Not so fast, Michael.” He mimicked his little brother, tapping his own cheek. “Where’s mine?”
For a second, Mikey just stared at him. Then, he grinned, a pleasant flush on his cheeks. “Of course! Sorry,” he said. He cupped Donnie’s face, raining an innumerable quantity of quick little kisses all over it. Mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah!
Stunned, Donnie just stood there as he left, skin tingling everywhere his lips had touched.
———
One night, Dream Mikey fell asleep in Dream Donnie’s lab again. Granted, he hadn’t done this in quite a while now, but it still left Donnie sighing. Thankfully, he caught him fairly recently, otherwise Mikey was bound to suffer a sore neck the next day with the position he was in.
Like every other time Donnie had done this before, he carried Mikey to his room and tucked him into bed. This time, however, when he leaned down to give his little brother a kiss goodnight, Mikey awoke, reaching for him groggily.
“I did it… on purpose,” Mikey mumbled, arms settled atop Donnie’s shoulders. “Sorry.”
Their faces were now inches apart. Donnie blinked. “What?”
“Fell asleep. In the lab.” He yawned. “On purpose.”
“Michael—”
He nuzzled his older brother. “Sleep with me tonight, D. Please?” he murmured.
Donnie froze. The turtles haven’t shared a bed with one another since they were kids. Did Mikey miss that? If so, why plan something like this? Why ask him? Why not Leo? Or Raph? Or, better yet, all of them? Invite April, even. Make it a sleepover. Mikey loved sleepovers.
“You’re already here,” he continued when Donnie didn’t answer. “Just… climb in.”
Donnie shook his head. “I… I need to take off my gear.”
Mikey smiled. “Go ahead.” He pulled away and settled back into the sheets, watching Donnie expectantly.
For a second, he just stood there. Then, acutely aware of his brother waiting for him, he began to divest himself of his belongings almost mechanically. He placed most of his stuff to the side, but his battle shell hurried off to its rightful place on its own once he gave it the command.
Only after Mikey opened his arms to welcome him in again did Donnie realize that he hadn’t even thought to decline.
The bed dipped under his weight as he sank down upon it and into his little brother’s warm embrace. Mikey took care to surround them both with the blanket before he buried his face into Donnie’s chest with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Love you.”
Donnie exhaled. Every beat of his heart felt like a minor catastrophe.
“Love you, too.”
———
Upon waking within the dream, the first thing Donnie registered was the position he was in and the warm weight atop him. Accustomed to being alone and wary of pranks, his groggy brain’s immediate reaction to this information was alarm. The impulse to scramble away hit him like a wave, but he kept purposefully still lest he trigger something. Someone was with him. Someone was touching him. He needed to handle this very carefully. Otherwise, he’d risk either dying somehow or never hearing the end of it from everyone (which was, arguably, worse than death).
However, when he opened his eyes, he took in the sight of his sleeping little brother. Felt the puff of Mikey’s slow, even breath as it met his plastron.
And just like that… his frantic mind stilled.
Yes. Of course. How could he forget? Last night, Mikey had asked for this, and he had agreed.
Careful not to disturb his brother, he let out a slow sigh. Then, he took a moment to simply breathe, to savor the calm they occupied, marveling at how perfectly Mikey seemed to fit against him.
He was glad he had agreed. This was the best he had ever felt upon waking, save for those first few clueless seconds.
Unable to help himself, he lifted his hand and gently rested it atop Mikey’s head, petting him softly. Eventually, Mikey began to stir at the sensation, so Donnie paused, worried the gesture had been unwelcome.
However, Mikey started grumbling for a different reason. “Nnn… No… Don’t stop…” He moved his arm sloppily, blindly feeling for Donnie’s hand and plopping it back down on his head. “Go.”
Donnie chuckled, but he did as his brother commanded, watching fondly as Mikey started to smile.
When he finally awakened completely, he blinked up at Donnie with a grin. “Good morning,” he chirped, happy to see him.
“Morning.”
He pecked Donnie on the cheek. Then, he folded his forearms atop Donnie’s chest, resting his head in his hands. “Aren’t you glad I fell asleep in the lab?” he asked brightly.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because! Doesn’t waking up like this feel so nice?”
Donnie hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Well played, Angelo.”
Mikey observed him, taking in the easy expression he wore, his unguarded countenance. He hadn’t realized it at first, but a small smile had hung itself on his lips and it still hadn’t gone away.
“Wanna do it again?” Mikey asked.
Donnie eyed his little bro dubiously, but his heart leapt in his chest. “Don’t we spend enough time together?” he hazarded.
Mikey blinked, tilting his head to the side. As if something suddenly occurred to him, he seemed to sober a little. “Is that what you think?” When Donnie didn’t respond, he continued. “If that’s what you think, we don’t have to.”
Donnie hesitated. “No, that’s not… I…” He swallowed. “I don’t mind.”
“That’s good,” Mikey said, a tinge of relief in his voice. “I don’t either.” He paused. “I like it. A lot, actually,” he confessed, ducking his head and hiding his face in Donnie’s chest. “Spending time with you feels good.”
A few beats of silence descended between them as Donnie tried to process the irrational shot of dopamine this admittance sent straight through his nervous system. “Just me?” he asked.
“Mhm. Just you.”
After that, something under the pillow buzzed and Mikey realized he got a text. April was asking for help in the groupchat she shared with the rest of the family, so Donnie and Mikey got out of bed, got ready, and sprung into action.
In the end, Donnie hadn’t accepted Mikey’s offer to sleep together again.
But he didn’t decline, either.
April’s request ballooned into something that ended up consuming the entire day, spiraling into two separate ordeals the crew had to split up for. Raph dragged Donnie around while Leo ran in the other direction with Mikey. That morning had been the only time they got more than a few passing moments with each other.
April was incredibly apologetic about all the trouble they ended up having to sort through when it was all said and done, but most of all, she looked really bummed about losing two part-time jobs in a single day. (Donnie felt bad for her; she couldn’t catch a break even in his dreams.)
Later that night, once they were all back home and sliding under their respective covers, Donnie froze right before he was about to settle into bed. His mind whirred, warring with something inside him. Then, almost helplessly, he complied with the yearning ache in his gut, softly padding over to Mikey’s room and slipping past the entrance over to his waiting brother.
“I was hoping you’d come,” Mikey whispered. A smile bright enough to dispel the dark of the room slowly dawned upon his lips, its radiance warming Donnie from the inside out.
Donnie exhaled, a knot in his chest unraveling. “Well, I missed you,” he whispered back. No point in denying it, really. His appearance here was enough for Mikey to deduce that himself.
Still, Mikey welcomed him eagerly into bed and Donnie paid the cost of admission: one goodnight kiss.
———
Afterward, that dream messed with him. A lot. When Donnie woke up (actually woke up), he realized Mikey wasn’t beside him and the subsequent disappointment hit him like a freight truck. The ache that had driven him to Mikey’s room in the dream had returned with a vengeance he couldn’t address.
Frustrated, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned.
———
Later, Donnie found Mikey in the kitchen preparing to experiment on a new dish. He had all the ingredients laid out and a cooking video from Swaggart’s pre-mutant days loaded on a precariously propped tablet, the written form of the recipe open in another tab for easy referencing. Still reeling from the frustration of that morning, Donnie decided to join his brother despite his distinct lack of interest in culinary pursuits. He wanted his company, but he didn’t want to rip Mikey away from his plans to get it.
Thankfully, Mikey met his offer to help with enthusiasm. He explained the dish they were making, the steps behind it, and what he hoped to achieve with the modifications to the recipe he had in mind. Donnie listened attentively, more entertained by the way Mikey’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he discussed the recipe than what the recipe actually contained.
As time went on, however, he discovered that despite his initial disinterest, he was enjoying himself more than he had expected he would. The way the ingredients played off each other and the careful use of heat to cook a substance, therefore transforming it at a molecular level, reminded him a lot of chemistry, and he understood chemistry. He’s had to measure, mix, and bake something before in the confines of his lab. He could break down every process in the recipe and its subsequent effect, calculate the perfect ratio of herbs to spices.
When he did it, though, it was just science. Mikey made it an art.
They had fun together. The finished product was a gorgeous beast of a dish, their collaborative effort infinitely more impressive than Swaggart’s original creation. It was glorious enough to warrant trumpets and angels descending from the heavens to herald its birth.
Mikey high-fived Donnie before pulling out his phone and darting around the dish, snapping pictures at every angle. After the fifth shot, Donnie tapped him on the shoulder with one of his claws and pulled him in for a selfie. The two of them grinned victoriously at his phone’s camera, posing with the dish center frame. He texted Mikey the picture once they were done.
“Ooo, new phone background!” Mikey exclaimed, setting the selfie as his homescreen wallpaper. “Me, my bro, and our beautiful baby in one pic. Perfect!”
Donnie smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself, Chef Michelangelo. C’est magnifique.” He bowed and Mikey laughed.
“Couldn’t have done it without my crazy awesome sous-chef!” he said, returning his brother’s bow. “Thanks for helping, Donnie. I know this usually isn’t your thing.”
Donnie shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be.”
“What? Really?”
He nodded. “We should hang out more,” he said, recalling the disappointment he felt that morning upon waking up alone. The disappointment that ran through him whenever he entered his lab, forgetting with every new dream that Mikey hadn’t made his place within it. “We don’t spend enough time together.”
Mikey studied him. For some reason, the scrutiny had Donnie stamping down the instinct to shrink back a little.
“You’ve changed a little, Donnie,” Mikey said eventually. Turning around, he spooned a serving of their dish onto a plate and handed it to his brother. Then, he smiled. “But I like it.”
Donnie tentatively returned his smile, accepting the plate.
“So, does that mean you’re gonna be my assistant more often?” he asked.
“How’s ‘partner’ sound instead?” Donnie proposed.
Mikey laughed. “I’ll take it,” he said. “We could be the best cooking team ever! They’ll call us… I dunno… The PB&J duo, or something!”
“Peanut butter and jelly? What? Because we’re orange and purple? But peanut butter is brown. And one doesn’t cook a PB&J sandwich.”
“It still works. Plus, it’s cute,” Mikey insisted. “I could make us little costumes…”
Donnie gave him a look.
“Oh, but it doesn’t just have to be cooking! Um… we could be… the Flavortown Bootyshakers! No—Smarts and Crafts!”
“That last one’s clever. Keep it on the table,” Donnie said. “Still, how about we just call ourselves… Wait for it… Donatello and Michelangelo.”
Mikey waved his hand, blowing a raspberry. “Uninspired! Been there, done that!”
“My name is far from uninspired—”
They debated the merits of naming themselves for a few more minutes before the rest of their family started filtering in, having caught the delicious scent of their cooking. Within minutes, their beauty of a dish was picked clean, leaving nothing behind but inedible scraps. Their father and older brothers flew in like starving vultures, diving for the food, devouring it, and then swooping back out.
(Mikey had to hold Donnie back from shooing them away like pests. “At least savor it, you fools!” he cried.)
Nevertheless, the duo stuck together well after the meal was finished. Donnie followed Mikey into his art studio, remaining there until he kissed him goodnight.
———
It was fine like this for a few days. Donnie was the closest he had ever been to his little brother, both in the real world and in his dreams. He spent the same amount of time with Mikey in either realm, the only real difference being that reality didn’t have them sharing a bed at night.
His tolerance for Mikey’s antics had grown rather considerably as a result. Mikey noticed this, took it, and ran with it. He grew bolder, turning to Donnie as his first choice for every touch he sought to share. Hugs and kisses, hand-holding. He was testing how far Donnie would let him go, maybe, and that was pretty far.
(There was an inexplicable magnetic force dragging him down, down, down and into his brother’s arms. He wondered if Mikey could feel it too. Wondered if he was drawn into Donnie’s orbit as much as Donnie was drawn to his. Wondered if this was just wishful thinking. Wondered what he was wishing for.)
Still, he would stop him right when it got particularly overwhelming or when Leo started joining in. There was only so much he could take at once. It amazed him how endless Mikey’s social battery seemed to be.
Mikey never took it to heart, thankfully, and Raph would pull Leo away when he was at his most annoying. Whenever that happened, Leo would switch targets, climbing on Raph’s shoulders and teasing the big guy about being jealous or something.
Above all, at the crux of it, Donnie and Mikey were okay. As far as Donnie was concerned—vivid longing in his heart for more notwithstanding (because what more could there be?!)—they were in a pretty good place.
Then, his dreams pushed him a little further. Gave that longing in his heart a name.