Chapter Text
In the end, it was actually the battery dying that finally made the thing power down. Mikey ended up throwing it against a wall in frustration over not actually doing any damage to it. He ended up denting the wall.
April went in after him once he had been staring at the dent for a full minute and not moving a single muscle. The second she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, the glow faded from his eyes, and he fell to the ground from where he was hovering, out cold.
After that, it was a flurry of nonstop motion until everyone had gotten into the medbay. Between Leo, Raph, and April, no one could get Casey to let up on his death grip on Donnie without risking hurting his injured arm more, so they settled on just putting them in the same bed and dealing with his other injuries first.
Now that no one was in serious danger, it finally clicked in their heads that nothing that happened here caused those injuries. If blatantly disregarding his own injuries to focus on Donnie (who was barely physically injured) wasn't enough, now he was going to get interrogated about where he actually went instead of the mall.
Our Future Boy was in for a rude awakening...
💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜
Donatello surfaced slowly, like something heavy being lifted a fraction of an inch at a time.
The first thing he noticed was warmth.
Not ambient. Not environmental. Concentrated. Human.
His cheek was pressed against fabric that smelled like smoke, sweat, antiseptic, and something faintly metallic. It rose beneath him, solid and steady, each breath a gentle upward motion that rocked him just enough to remind him he was not floating.
An arm was wrapped around his back, tight enough that he could feel the tension in the muscles even through the fog in his head. The strong grip didn’t shift when he breathed in. Didn’t loosen. Didn’t waver.
Protective.
Another arm cradled the back of his head, fingers threaded awkwardly through his mask ties, palm warm against his skull. It blocked out the world with quiet insistence, like a hand over his eyes telling him he didn’t need to look yet.
Donnie listened.
He did not open his eyes.
Opening his eyes meant edges. Light. Noise. Too much information arriving all at once and demanding to be processed.
He distantly remembers making that mistake earlier. He's not doing it again.
This was… simpler.
The med bay existed only as a hum beneath everything else. A low, constant vibration through the bed. Somewhere nearby, a monitor beeped in a slow, patient rhythm. Voices moved in and out of range, blurred and indistinct, their tones calm enough that his brain categorized them as handled.
He was being held.
That realization struck him harder than it probably should have.
He tried, halfheartedly, to take stock of himself. Limbs? All present. No sharp pain. No panic. Just exhaustion so deep it felt structural, like it had worked its way into his bones. Maybe it had.
His shell felt exposed without his Battle Shell, cool air brushing against it where Casey’s arm didn’t quite cover. Normally, that would have made him tense. Curl his arms around himself. Protect.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
The arm around him tightened slightly, a reflexive response to his shallow shift in breathing. The chest beneath his cheek rose and fell again, steady as ever.
Casey hadn’t let go.
A flicker of guilt stirred somewhere behind Donnie’s eyes. Not sharp enough to hurt yet. Just heavy.
Useless.
The word didn’t come fully formed, more of a weight than a thought.
Images crowded behind it.
Restraints.
Watching.
Being unable to do anything while everything went wrong around him.
He should have helped. Should have stopped it. Should have-
Not now.
The hand at the back of his head shifted minutely, thumb brushing his temple in an unconscious, soothing motion. The pressure anchored him in place, kept his thoughts from spiraling far enough to gain momentum.
Later, he promised himself, the idea barely holding together.
I’ll fix it later.
He didn’t know how yet. Gifts. Repairs. Planning. Something tangible. Something useful.
For now, the warmth was allowed. Indulged in.
His eyelids fluttered despite his best effort to keep them still. The fog in his head thickened, tugging him back under with gentle persistence.
Casey’s hold didn’t change as Donnie drifted, breathing evening out against his chest, the rest of the room receding to a distant, manageable hum.
The world can wait a bit longer.
🧡~🧡~🧡~🧡~🧡~🧡
Michelangelo woke up because the world felt… too quiet.
Not a peaceful quiet. Not sleepy quiet. The kind of quiet that had been very carefully engineered by people who were trying not to wake anyone up.
That's suspicious.
He cracked one eye open, immediately regretted it, and closed it again with an inaudible whine. His head felt like cotton candy that had been left out in the rain. Overused ninpo always did that for him. No pain, really, just the deep, bone-level exhaustion of having burned through something he probably should not have burned through.
Still...
Quiet like this doesn't happen by accident in this subway station.
He tried again, slower this time.
The med bay came into focus in pieces. Dimmed lights. Curtains half-drawn. The familiar glow of monitors reflected faintly off metal surfaces. Leo, Raph, and April were grouped together on the far side of the room, backs half-turned toward him, their heads angled in that way that meant serious discussion.
And Casey.
Casey was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, hunched forward slightly, shoulders tense.
With Donnie in his arms.
Mikey’s brain stuttered, then rebooted.
Oh.
Ohhh.
Okay. That explains the quiet.
Donnie was curled against Casey’s chest, shell facing outward, small even breaths lifting him just enough that Mikey could tell he was asleep, not just refusing to engage in conversation. Casey’s injured arm was wrapped tight around Donnie’s shell, muscles locked like he’d decided sometime earlier that letting go was simply not an option. His other arm was cradled protectively around the back of Donnie’s head, chin tipped down so his chin rested lightly against Donnie’s mask.
It was… a lot.
Mikey watched Leo gesture sharply with one hand, his movements controlled but clearly frustrated, the other one gripping the armrest of his chair so tightly he could see his knuckles were whitening from across the room. Raph’s arms were crossed so tightly over his chest Mikey was pretty sure his biceps were in danger of filing a complaint about abusive working conditions. April leaned in, hands braced on her knees, her expression unreadable from this distance, but likely stern and concerned if he knew his big sister.
Their voices stayed low. Too low for Mikey to hear words. But their tone carried.
Interrogation tone.
Casey let out a long, annoyed breath through his nose. The kind that said fine, I hear you, I just don’t agree.
Then, carefully, deliberately, he shifted.
Mikey tensed instinctively, ready to intervene if Donnie so much as twitched, exhaustion be damned-
But then- Casey adjusted his hold with surprising gentleness, easing Donnie to the side just enough that he could wrap around him with his other arm, giving Leo access to his injury. Donnie made a soft, irritated sound at the movement, face scrunching for half a second before he resettled, burrowing closer instead of pulling away. Casey smiled softly.
Mikey felt something warm and complicated bloom in his chest.
Leo went to work immediately.
Even from across the room, Mikey could see the way Leo’s posture shifted. Focused. Precise. Hands steady as he cleaned the wound and began stitching, movements efficient and practiced. Casey didn’t look at what Leo was doing. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere over Donnie’s shoulder, jaw clenched, breath carefully measured.
That boy is way too good at covering up pain.
The arguing didn’t stop.
It dipped. Rose again. Hands gestured. April pointed quickly between Donnie and Casey's face at one point. Raph’s scowl deepened.
Casey’s shoulders slumped just a fraction.
Mikey couldn’t hear the words, but he could guess.
Then Donnie shifted.
Just a little. A soft, barely-there sound escaped him, something between a grumble and a protest, and he tucked his face deeper into the crook of Casey’s neck, one arm wrapping around Casey's waist instinctively to pull him closer.
The room froze.
Every head snapped toward the bed.
Donnie mumbled something unintelligible, breath warm against Casey’s skin, and went still again.
Casey had that content smile on his face again.
The argument… didn’t resume at the same volume after that.
It came back quieter. More tense. More careful.
Leo finished the last stitch, tied it off, and wrapped Casey’s arm with practiced efficiency. When he was done, he leaned back and fixed Casey with a look that Mikey recognized immediately.
The: Anything else? look.
Casey hesitated.
Then muttered something under his breath.
The volume spiked just enough for Mikey to catch fragments.
“…ribs-”
“…why didn't you-”
“…hold him like that-”
Mikey winced sympathetically.
Donnie responded by shifting again, clearly irritated this time, and pressing himself closer with a soft huff, plastron becoming flush with Casey’s chest as if to say absolutely not.
The argument died on the spot.
Leo stared at them for a long moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away.
He's thinking so loud, Mikey swears he can hear it.
These idiots are going to be the death of me.
Casey exhaled shakily, relief written plain across his face, and immediately wrapped both arms around Donnie’s shell, protective and firm, like he’d just won a battle he had been fully prepared to lose.
He lay back down on the bed, which was raised at an incline so the conversation could continue, seemingly happy to be done talking about medical stuff.
The interrogation resumed after that.
This time, Casey looked sheepish.
Really sheepish.
He hid the lower half of his face in Donnie's shoulder, gaze flicking away as he spoke. Raph’s eyebrows climbed higher with every sentence. April’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Leo went very, very still, staring blankly at a spot on the wall.
Mikey didn’t need to hear the words to know what was happening.
Solo mission, his brain supplied easily.
Bad idea. Worse execution. Abhorrent timing.
Mikey closed his eyes again, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself.
Yeah.
That tracked for their future boy.
He let the sounds of the med bay wash over him. The steady beeping. The low hum. The quiet presence of his family clustered around one of their own, arguing because they cared too much to do anything else.
Across the room, Donnie slept on, utterly unaware of the storm he was at the center of.
And for once...
He looks safe, content.
Mikey let himself drift back into the embrace of unconsciousness, comforted by that thought.
💛~💛~💛~💛~💛~💛
Casey decided, in the back of his mind, that this had all worked out pretty well.
Sure, he’d been yelled at. A lot. Interrogated. Re-interrogated. Given several Looks™ that probably should have made him feel worse than they did. Likely had bruised ribs and did have at least a dozen stitches in his arm.
But...
Donnie was still in his arms.
Still warm. Still curled in close like he’d decided, very deliberately, that this was where he was staying for the foreseeable future. One arm tucked around Casey’s waist, face pressed into his shoulder, breathing slow and even.
Casey adjusted his grip just slightly, careful of his ribs, careful of the stitches in his arm, careful of the turtle sleeping next to him, and smiled to himself when Donnie immediately tightened his hold in response.
Yeah.
He could live with the consequences.
Raph came back into the med bay like a storm front, feet heavy against the floor, arms crossed so tightly Casey was pretty sure that was his permanent state now.
Soooo, that "calming walk" didn't do much, did it?
He stopped a few feet from the bed and stared at Casey like he was trying to decide whether or not throwing him across the room would wake Donnie.
Yeah, definitely not.
Raph lost that internal debate almost immediately.
“The hell was that purple thing, anyway?” he demanded, clearly trying to distract himself.
Casey blinked. “…The multi-tool?”
There was a beat.
Then Raph exploded.
“THE WHAT?!"
Casey flinched instinctively, then winced harder when his ribs reminded him they existed and were angry with him. “The- the multi-tool?” he repeated, slower, like maybe Raph hadn’t heard him the first time.
“For my Sensei’s prosthetic arm. It’s got, like- a ton of stuff. Exacto-blade. A dozen wrenches. Soldering iron. Tape measure-”
Evidently, that had been the wrong thing to say.
“Oh THANK GOD,” Raph bellowed, throwing his hands up. “IT'S GOT A TAPE MEASURE! THAT TOTALLY MAKES IT FINE WE ALMOST GOT KILLED BY IT! REAL COMFORTING KNOWING IT COULD HAVE ALSO BEEN MEASURING THINGS WHILE TRYING TO MURDER US!"
Casey opened his mouth to...
He's not sure, actually.
He did not get the chance, regardless.
A pillow hit Raph square in the face.
The med bay went dead silent.
Donnie had lifted his head just enough to glare blearily at Raph, somehow unnoticed by Casey, eyes half-lidded and unfocused but unmistakably irritated. How he managed to be that accurate is anyone's guess.
“Shut up,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep and clearly running on minimal brain power. “You’re giving my migraine… a migraine.”
Then he dropped down onto the bed, tucked his face back into Casey’s shoulder, and promptly closed his eyes again, the hand that threw the pillow fisting lightly in Casey’s shirt as he’d never moved at all.
There was a heartbeat of stunned quiet.
Then, April snorted.
Leo started actually laughing first, a short, surprised sound that cracked something open in his chest. Mikey followed, giggling helplessly from his bed, clearly awake now but making no move to intervene one way or another. Even Raph, still holding the pillow, broke with a huff and shook his head in exasperation.
Casey looked down at Donnie.
There was a small smile on his face.
Casey’s expression softened immediately.
“Yeah,” he murmured, mostly to himself, and shifted just enough to get comfortable in the stiff medical bed. “Good call, Dee.”
He settled in, careful and content, arms secure around Donnie’s shell.
If anyone had something else to say about it?
They could wait.
Not everything had to be fixed right now.