Chapter Text
“Donnie does this kind of stuff all the time. How hard could dismantling a bomb really be?”
-Leonardo, City at War Part 1
As usual, Donnie was already nodding off to sleep, falling under the spell of the gentle rocking of the vehicle as it carried four battle-weary teenagers home. Seeing this, Raphael leaned over the length of the van and tapped the side of his brother’s shoulder.
“Up up,” he murmured, placing a hand under Donatello’s chin. Donnie obeyed the gentle command as Raph flicked a penlight into his eyes, checking the pupils. Donatello waited wordlessly until Raph was satisfied with his loose check up. Raphael patted his brother’s shoulder and settled back into his seat.
“You’re fine.”
With that confirmation, Donatello tucked himself against the window and fell into a light doze. For a guy who wasn’t in the habit of sleeping, Don had always been able to drift off within minutes, no matter the surface or environment. Raph was fascinated by his brother’s special ability to be able to nap anywhere on anything- be it a pile of egg crates, an office chair, or against a half-completed tank. Raphael searched around his seat for his walkman, praying that his past self had the good sense to leave it in the van before heading out for tonight’s mission.
Mikey was driving with Leo chiming in at moments when he’d forget a turn signal or some obscure rule of the road that didn’t matter at this god-forsaken time of night. Despite taking down a bus-full of gangsters on his own tonight, Michelangelo wasn’t too exhausted to take offense at Leo’s back seat driving. Yeah, thanks, he’d say with an undercurrent of annoyance and follow through anyway. He flicked the lever, indicating his left turn, waiting for the light to turn green.
“If you’re too tired, I can drive,” The words out of Leo’s mouth were just sounds and everyone knew it. Mike and Raph instinctively glanced at each in shared exhaustion.
“How's that head trauma?” Mikey shot back, "Is it gone? Did it go away? Did it get up on two legs and walk off?" Raph gave a small scoff of amusement and Leonardo laughed softly, too tired to have higher standards for humor, even if he was the butt of the joke.
“Fine.” Leonardo leaned back into shotgun, rubbing at the bruise on his forehead by slipping his fingers under his mask. Eventually, he pulled it down around his neck to get it away from the wound and to let off any kind of pressure around his head, imagined or otherwise. His mind kept drifting back to the fight, casting an analytical eye like a net over the past few hours trying to catch any flaws or missed opportunities. Places where it could’ve gone better, they could’ve been tighter, or moved a little faster. He wasn’t always sure what he was looking for, but he wished his brain would just shut up for once and let him worry about it tomorrow.
“Light’s green.”
“Raph’s ugly,” Mikey chimed in, “Oh, sorry. Thought we were pointing out the obvious.” Get the hint, bro. A blatant lack of retort from a certain angry brother made Michelangelo glance into the rearview.
As he suspected, the big lug had his headphones on, blasting a chaotic mess of music to turn his brains into jello. It was a favorite post-battle ritual. You’ll ruin your hearing, Splinter protested. Mutant body, Raph would volley back. I’m not a doctor, Donatello complained when they’d try to drag him in to settle the argument.
Mikey had meant to ask Raph for his headphones back yesterday but forgot. He was thinking about getting a new pair anyway after seeing a set of surprisingly affordable orange headphones in the Target catalogue. April was sometimes willing to buy things for him if he promised to do something around the shop in exchange. How long would that take? The convincing, the bargaining, April finding the time…
“Hey, Mikey.” Leo’s voice shook him away from his schemes.
“Huh?”
“Do you know how to defuse a bomb?”
“Bro, what?”
“I was thinking how Don’s the only one with the know how.”
“Well, yeah. He does machines.”
“Hm,” Leo hummed, unsatisfied with Mikey’s answer, “If you had to, could you? You’re holding a bomb in your arms and you got one minute to stop it from blowing up. What would you do?”
“I’d change the diaper and give it a warm bottle of milk.” He turned onto their street, just a few minutes away from the garage.
“Come on, Mikey.”
“I mean…” He indulged Leonardo and allowed a second of serious thought, “I’d weigh in on movie knowledge and try pulling wires. But with my luck, I’d probably blow up half of New York,” Yikes. Dark train of thought. He shook it off. “But it doesn’t matter, that’s Donnie’s job.”
Leo sighed.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He stared past the windshield and traced the dark shapes of the buildings as they slid by.
“What’s up, Leo?” Mikey pried, lowering his voice. The way Leo leaned his head against the headrest looking deflated didn’t sit right with him. “Why’s it matter?”
“It matters because…” Leonardo caught the angst in his tone and gave himself a moment to navigate around his frustration, “It matters because… Remember when I tried to defuse that bomb in the warehouse?”
“About two weeks ago, right?”
“It was the most stressful thing I’ve ever had to put myself through.” Mikey silently noted his choice of words. He wondered where exactly the guy ranked the stress of the “thing” of being chased down on rooftops and getting beaten into a coma.
“That’s what I’m putting Donatello through every time we go out.” Leonardo continued, interrupting Mikey’s thoughts again. “He has to bear that responsibility alone for each mission that requires it. I can’t imagine having to deal with something as delicate and dangerous as defusing a bomb while handling the stress of a war zone.” Liar. You can imagine.You just feel guilty. But Mikey said something else.
“I bet that’s why he kicks ass at Operation.”
Leonardo rolled his eyes and turned away, suddenly closing himself off with full intention to let the conversation die here. Shit, wait.
“Give Don some credit,” Michelangelo supplied, simultaneously clicking the remote and making the final turn into the garage. “He’s basically an expert on the stuff. The dude reads college textbooks for fun. I’d wager he’d be more prepared for a situation like that than an obsessive nerd swinging around two big knives.”
“Better than an obsessive nerd swinging around two dumb sticks.”
“You’re not qualified to plug in a toaster, let alone defuse a bomb.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“Whoa! Leonardo Splinterson not taking responsibility?”
Michelangelo parked the Battleshell, took his shell cell out, and made a big show of pretending to pull up the camera.
“Could you repeat that? With feeling this time and say something about how I’m your favorite.”
“Stupid,” said Leo, grinning as he pushed the phone out of his face. Mikey pulled out the keys in the ignition, swinging the ring around his finger twice before catching the mess of keys in his palm. Gold star, Mikester. It felt good to see Leo smile as tired as he was. If he could get Leo to lighten up on his guilt and joke around after a long night, Michelangelo couldn’t help indulging in a little pride. Raph was already stretching out of his seat, slipping the headphones around his neck. Michelangelo looked back at his sleeping brother then turned to Leo with mischief written all over his face, leaning conspiratorially agains the wheel. “Can I wake him with the horn?”
“Only if you want to die,” Donnie mumbled, getting drool all over the glass. Raph chuckled, opening the back doors and hopping out. Donatello rose like the dead and followed him to the elevator. Michelangelo watched Leo unbuckle himself, getting that feeling that maybe he should ask about something… more? Never mind. Leo was already sliding out of the car. He had waited a second too long and now the moment was over.
He hurried to the elevator, brushing off Raph’s sorry, this one’s full. take the next one. with an unimpressed ha ha ha. The door closed and began its descent. Instinctively, Michelangelo ran his hands over his belt pausing at the empty space on his right side. He groaned. Damn. And of course, Raph noticed.
“You’re such an airhead.”
“Shut up, Raphie.”
Leo was officially out of energy. “What.”
“Dipstick forgot his nunchucks in the cupholder again.”
“They get in the way of the gearshift! And it’s uncomfortable with the buckle pressing into them.”
Raph patted at his belt, "Oh no! It seems I've left the world's smallest violin next to your chucks.”
“Why is this elevator so slow.” Cursing the stupid bullshit magical technology, Donatello pressed his head against the wall. Everyone ignored him.
“Mikey, try not to forget your weapons. It’s bad form." Leo said.
“I’ll get them tomorrow. It’s too late to get them now.”
“As long as you’re not late to practice.” The other three groaned in protest, and taking that cue, the elevator opened. They all stumbled into the dimly lit lair.
“Hold on now, Leo,” Raph crossed his arms, giving him a miserable look, “Splinter said that we could take it easy after tonight’s mission. Take time to heal up an’ stuff.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, we decided this like, yesterday.”
“Oh,” Whoops. God, he wanted to sleep. “I forgot. False alarm, guys.”
“Thank god,” Mikey dragged his palms down his cheeks in exaggerated relief. “I am not setting my alarm to go off tomorrow. I don’t care what day of the week it is. As far as I’m concerned, it’s Saturday.” Raph nodded in agreement, blinking heavily as he wandered towards the stairs.
“I second that. Well, I’m out. ‘Night, fellas.” Raph said before slipping away. Donatello yawned, an arm stretching parallel to his bo. Being in close proximity was like getting a punch from the Sandman himself. Michelangelo suddenly felt every single bruised muscle and aching bone weigh down on his limbs.
“If you need me…. you don’t.” Donnie mumbled, leading himself straight to his room. Mikey rubbed his eyes, choosing to do the noble thing and head to the bathroom first.
“Alright, g’night, D.”
“Good bye.”
“Don’t you mean-” The light to Donnie’s room went out with a snap. Mikey sighed in agreement, “Yeah.” He caught Leo just taking his eyes off Donatello’s room, and settling into his special stew of big brother guilt. Mikey bumped into his shoulder as they both made their way to brush their teeth.
“If it bothers you that much, you should just talk to him.”
“I know. And I will.” Leo paused as they entered the bathroom, rubbing at his face. “He was exhausted tonight.” His eyes were locked in a critical squint, the simple routine of prepping his toothbrush given the same sobriety as solving a complex equation.
“Yeah, breaking up a ring of smugglers after pulling an all-nighter for research will do that to you.” Leo scrubbed roughly at his teeth with his brush, judging Mikey silently from behind a mouthful of froth.
“‘anks, Mikey,” he spat, rinsed, and moved aside.
“Oops. Not helping?” Mikey took his place in front of the mirror, taking up his toothbrush. The handle was too big and rubbery and the bristles were too small, but it had the Silver Sentry decked out all over it so it was absolutely worth it to Mikey to rep his favorite hero at bedtime. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Leonardo leaned against the wall next to the sink, sighing a little too loud. Geez, had he been holding his breath or something? “It’s like he has two full-time jobs. I can’t believe I didn’t notice until I literally had a bomb in my face.”
“I don’t hear him complaining.”
“You don’t leave much room for the rest of us.” Mikey stuck a foamy tongue out, and then spat in the sink. “Not only that, but relying on him for too much is dangerous for the team’s survival. It’s just bad strategy. It feels…” Leo’s face scrunched, finding the right word for how he felt about it but it left a bad taste, “lazy.”
“I love me some ‘lazy,’ but I get what you mean,” said Michelangelo, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and dropping his toothbrush back in the jar. The answer seemed obvious to Mikey, but Leo seemed to be wrapped up in knots over this. It wasn’t about just trying to find a solution- Leo was caught in the echoes of invisible mistakes or potential failures that never happened in real life but existed in his mind anyway. The time of night and the drag of the day certainly couldn’t be helping Leo shake his heavier emotions. He was reminded of that “something else'' feeling that escaped earlier. Now seemed like a good time for a second chance.
Together they left the bathroom, Mikey hitting the lights on the way out. “What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape? I feel like you’re taking this way harder-”
“Is Donnie in danger?” Leo stopped at the base of the stairs, his worry finally breaking through his armor of calm. “He’s too valuable. His knowledge is too specialized. We wouldn’t be able to do half the things we do if it weren’t for him.” He shut his eyes and pinched at his brow, voice lowered and brewing. “If it were me, I’d take Donatello out first.”
“Yikes, Leo!” It was time to take the reins and pull this puppy out of a spiral. “You got our coffins picked out too?”
“It’s not funny, Mikey. I ignored this very real threat to our family- our brother- because it was easier for me. You don’t think that’s… wrong?”
“Okay, first of all,” Michelangelo started, placing a hand on his shoulder, “On behalf of my beautiful, massive ego , I’m gonna try to not take it personally that you think Raphael and I are chopped turtle livers,” Turtles have livers right? Probably. Mikey moved on, “Raph, maybe. I’ve always held my position that if we really needed the cash, we could sell him to the circus or SeaWorld.”
“I think he'd prefer the circus,” said Leo, feeling his mood turning already. Honestly, it was kind of annoying how quickly Mikey could dispel the clouds.
“Before we turn to the Dark Side, let’s take it back, okay? What if we got Donatello to show us a little of what he knows? We’d go over things like basic coding, hot wiring, defusing bombs... The small stuff, you know?”
“Yeah. It could be a part of our training,” Leonardo nodded and Mike bit back his pride as he privately celebrated a second victory that night, “That will help balance out the responsibilities of the team.”
Leonardo was lost in planning for a moment before blinking himself awake, turning to his brother.
“It’s a good idea, Mikey.”
“Aw, thanks Leo,” Michelangelo placed a hand over his heart, touched, “And for the record.... I’d take you out first.”
Leo scrunched up his face and tucked in his lips, fighting hard against a smile. He looked up to divine help from the ceiling.
“See? Sounds stupid when you-”
“No, I hear it,” Leo confirmed, nodding.
“Also, I’m pretty sure that out of all of us, I’ve had the most attempts made on my life, Like, exclusively” Mike stated, suddenly indignant. “Raph... Leatherhead… Fake Shredder from Fake Time Travel has got to count for something... Probably more?”
“Not something I want to think about!” Leo threw up a hand, determined to leave the conversation on a good note.
“I’m just saying- the evidence for most wanted is there.”
“Hey, bud? That’s not a good thing.”
Before heading up, Leonardo turned out the lights to the lair.