Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Biting that probably isn’t gonna end well big man.”

Mikey’s tone is impossibly fond, face so soft that Donnie can’t believe his expression isn’t sliding right off.

The snapper makes a loud squawk as the blanket finally relents to his tugging and releases from under the couch. The momentum carries him fully onto his back, forcing a comical oof! as he hits the floor.

It isn’t dangerous, Raph is barely taller than Shelldon, and his shell would do more damage to the floor than vice versa. Donnie knows all this.

Doesn’t stop his entire body from twitching forward, alarm spiking like lightning through his limbs. Mikey rushes forward to help Raph back onto his feet with impossibly gentle hands.

He doesn’t think he's ever had to worry about Raph before. Not like this.

Donnie fiddles more with the wiring in his lap, but makes sure to shuffle it away when Mikey brings Raph over to the booth where he’s sitting.

The snapper is looking at his goggles with barely contained awe, batting absentmindedly at Mikey’s hovering hands. “Donnie, you’re so cool! Did you figure out how to fix the ice cream machine?”

Ah. He remembers the old thing. The first machine he had the opportunity to fiddle with, back when Splinter was still deciding where to settle down. It had ended up barely working, producing wilting results, ice cream just barely out of the range of being slightly chilled cream. It was frankly disappointing, and thinking back on it, Donnie can even pinpoint what mistakes he made in his efforts that brought forth lackluster results.

But his brothers had lit up at the sad products of his labor, hooting and hollering like wild animals as they held the rapidly melting ice cream like it was a precious gem, and the warmth filled him so thoroughly that it never quite left. Donnie doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that feeling.

“I did, I even put a skittles dispenser in it.” He gloats, doesn’t mention the machine is long gone along with the old lair now. “And now, I could even make an entire ice cream factory, with robot workers and everything.” Donnie leaves one eye open to see the results of his shameless bragging.

It works flawlessly. Donnie’s ego has been coasting ever since the incident that turned his big brother into a pint-sized tot. No one makes Donnie feel as ingenious as Raph does, looks at him and his inventions with the same all-encompassing pride.

Mikey, absolute legend that he is, continues on to list out all the incredible tech that Donnie included to the lair, from the toaster with a snarky AI to the new and improved escape pods. The energy bounces between him and Raph in a dizzying display of curiosity and excitement.

His older brother is clapping furiously, delight too overwhelming for his small size. His bright eyes are squeezed shut, all of him radiating a simple, radiant joy.

It’s hard to look sometimes. Look at this small creature and see his older brother, who paces between their rooms when his fears get too heavy, who can single handedly carry their entire family on his broad shoulders. Their invincible older brother, who is forever marked head to toe in the results of his efforts to keep them safe.

This Raph is devoid of scars, plastron and carapace missing everything but minor scuffs. His eyes, both a deep reddish brown, shine bright with wonder as he looks up at his brothers. Not a single wrinkle on his brow, nor heavy bags under his eyes. It’s a bit like looking directly into the sun without proper eye protection. It’s as disorienting as it is off putting. If Donnie thinks about it for too long it starts to make him feel weird about why seeing his older brother without scars is so distressing.

Maybe that’s why Leo had thrown himself into retrieval tasks, still absent from the room because he “has to fetch extra blankets, what if he gets cold?” Acting as if his eyes weren’t skirting around Raph like the sight hurt him. It’s a good thing Raph hadn’t noticed.

Leo owes Mikey big time. Their little brother has been throwing himself in front of their eldest relentlessly, making sure that Raph doesn’t even have the time to think about why Leo isn’t here, why it was taking him so damn long to fetch a couple blankets.

Even though Mikey looks at Raph like he isn’t seeing their older brother in there. Donnie politely doesn’t mention that Mikey is acting an awful lot like Raph, grip on his arm almost desperate, hovering anxiously around the little one like if he looked away for too long, Raph would disintegrate before his eyes.

Leo puts up a good fight before Donnie finally manages to corner him.

Mikey is the undisputed champion of distraction, but it really still must be their older brother in there, because Raph keeps looking around the room, trying to take a headcount of his brothers, brow furrowing when he doesn’t see his blue-banded brother.

Mikey shoots him a pleading look when Raph starts tottering around looking for exits, patting Mikey’s arm with a serious look that really should look more funny on his pudgy face.

“Get in there,” Donnie hisses, two seconds away from sticking his hand under Leo’s bed and dragging the coward out kicking and screaming. He really was nearing the end of his patience. “He’s worried because he hasn’t seen a hint of your sorry shell this entire time.”

At least Leo seems rightfully shameful about the whole thing. There’s a miserable keening sound coming from the floor where Leo’s hiding. He sounds distressed when he squeaks out, “I didn’t mean to make him worry.”

Donnie gives in slightly and gives the entire bed a kick, making it rattle against the subway car wall. It makes Leo squeak which is a bit gratifying, but not enough to make him leave without Leo in tow. “Well you did, so get out here and help Mikey will you? He’s trying to stop Raph from chewing a hole in the wall so he can go find you.”

Honestly, they all felt a little strange about it, but this was ridiculous. Raph was still their brother, tiny or not.

“Leo!”

Raph turns into a little blur, shooting across the living room to envelope Leo into a grasping hug before the slider can do something stupid, like leave.

Tiny arms encircle Leo’s left leg in a death grip, and wow Donnie really should have brought the shell that kept his camera because that could have been Leo’s contact picture for at least a month.

It’s impossible to have doubts when Raph is hugging you, it’s just a fact of the Hamato household. And so Leo melts right down into putty like Donnie knew he would.

“Hey big bro.” Leo mumbles, taking a hold of Raph’s arms so he can lean down and look Raph in the eye for the first time since he got hit by that stray beam of mystic energy. He kneels, and Donnie can feel more than see, the way his brother’s stupid brain finally replaces uncomfortable reminder with Raphael.

“I heard you were looking for me?” He lifts both his arms in that cartoonish way of his, as if saying well, here I am.

Donnie catches Mikey mumbling under his breath, saying something like it only took a 5 minute guilt trip.

But none of that guilt is present now, washed away by the slow way Raph reaches up to Leo, reaching for the scars littered around his face like he did for Donnie and Mikey. And so Donnie knows exactly what Leo is seeing in HD, the way Raph’s face turns into a study in misery, face scrunched as if not comprehending this strange new world he’d been placed in, where his brothers were grown, and have visible signs of hurts littered across their bodies.

They’d had a talk with their Raph about it, dragged out during a turtle pile turned therapy session. It feels like failure, he’d said, voice rough and low like he was uttering some forbidden ugly secret. It feels like failure to see all the scars I couldn’t stop, hits I didn’t intercept.

Donnie can see that side of Raph surface when little Raph looks at them, eyes catching on the scrapes and scratches, snagging his attention and not letting go. And damn, if it doesn’t feel like failure for him too, to see his older brother worry about them, attempt to shoulder their pain even now, 13 years younger.

“Raph! Be careful!” Mikey’s voice carries sharply through the subway tunnel that makes up the arcade. It’s tense with a worry that has Donnie on edge, but he’s not surprised to round the corner and see Mikey lifting Raph away from one of the raised rails.

“Mikey, put me down!” Raph squawks indignantly, legs flailing in the air.

Mikey just huffs in a way that he probably doesn’t realize is Raph’s, barely containing an eye roll. “You gotta watch your step big man, the concrete here is rougher than the sewer tunnels.” He sets the offended turtle on the ground and nods slightly to acknowledge Donnie as he strolls in.

Raph is still evidently a bit miffed by the treatment. “I’m not a baby!” He bites out, sticking a leg out to step exaggeratedly over the rail, and looks up with a slightly haughty expression afterward, as if he had gotten some kind of upper hand by not falling on his face. It’s absolutely adorable.

Mikey shoots Donnie an exasperated look, as if to say can you believe? But Donnie absolutely can, returning his look with a knowing smile of his own.

It’s not a big deal, it's really not. There is no danger, but it still doesn’t lessen the sting.

Their lair is safe, kitted out top to bottom with Donnie’s tech in order to keep both humans and hostile yokai away, but ninja senses never quite dulled enough for them to be caught unawares. It heightened even more after the Shredder and the Kraang, but these days, threats rarely made it anywhere near the safety of the lair.

They didn’t register the rustling of the kitchen curtain being pushed aside, because the presence behind it was one they trusted, so normal that it hardly even registered anymore. They didn’t think to remember that Raph had no such established trust.

Donnie is still sitting at the table, legs locked underneath him uselessly. It feels as if his spine has been fused together, held tight with tension. Leo and Mikey at least have gotten to their feet, faces and limbs locked in the same frozen state.

And Raph, tiny little Raph, is standing firm in front of their little gathering, hissing up a storm as he stares April down.

Distantly, Donnie winces at the fact that he didn’t think to text April, Casey, or Casey Jr. about what had happened. In his defense, eight hours of frantic scanning had confirmed that whatever mystic spell had turned Raph into a child would wear off in a handful of days, with no side effects to speak of. In the rush of adapting to this new version of his brother, it had slipped his mind to let his human family know that Raph would be a bit smaller than usual this week.

And the results of his forgetfulness are staring him in the face, April is clearly bewildered at the sight before her, bat raised either from adrenaline or the sheer shock.

April would never hurt Raph, could never, but the sight still puts a pit of something snarling and angry in his stomach all the same. As does the sight of Raph, his 5 year old big brother, standing firm between his adult brothers and this new addition he has deemed a threat, holding firm in his position. His hands are shaking where they curl in front of him.

Memories, the sound of his big brother’s laugh. Raph is always bravest when you guys are behind him! A blinding grin, spilling confidence.

Oh, Donnie thinks, there’s that ashy taste of failure again.

Leo is the first to break out of the wave of emotions, lucky bastard. “Hey Apes, uh. Sorry about the surprise but meet tiny Raph,” he coughs, “tiny Raph, meet April.”

He gestures wildly and a little stupidly at April, eyes still wide and frozen in an expression Donnie can't parse through.

April shakes herself back into working order, lowering the bat slowly to the sound of Raph continuing to rumble threateningly, though the hissing had stopped once Leo spoke up. “Hey little guy,” she soothes, “I’m a friend of your brothers, April O’Niel.” She probably thought Raph would take it better than introducing herself as his older sister. But Donnie doesn’t think Raph could possibly think her to be anything else, not when April kneels at Raph’s level and extends her hands, as steady as she’s been their whole lives.

Raph eyes her hands with a flinty gaze, but eventually relents, inching forward with one last glance backwards at his brothers as if to gauge their reactions. Whatever he finds, it relaxes him, and he places both hands gingerly in April’s.

“Hi,” Raph mumbles out, suddenly seeming shy. His tail curls around to curve around his feet, standing straight the way Splinter taught them to greet others.

April’s gaze melts into honey, recognition shining through the confusion. “There you are,” she breathes. “Hello Raph.”

Chapter Text

After the first meeting and shy introductions, April is completely taken by this adorable little version of Raph. It’s not uncommon to see her shuffling along the hallways trailing after the snapper alongside Mikey, the perfect image of proud parents.

“I’ve got to show Cass,” April crows, showing off her latest picture: Raph grasping tightly at Leo’s leg when the slider had tried to leave for his phone. A disgruntled Leo had ended up dragging himself, spikey new barnacle and all, to his room and back. The photo is admittedly adorable, Donnie can admit, shamelessly swiping April’s phone to send it into the shared group chat so each of them would have a copy. Raph most likely wouldn’t be too thrilled, but that’s what he gets for being turned into a baby, house rules.

Credit where credit is due, it takes only seconds before both of their phones are dinging obnoxiously, both Caseys must have seen the efforts of April’s labor.

Donnie puts his own phone on mute and heads for the kitchen, where Mikey and Raph had disappeared in order to put together a lunch, leaving the sounds of a tinny aggressive voice echoing from April’s speaker. Casey really needs to work on that volume control before a concerned neighbor calls the cops. Donnie has already broken her out of jail a dozen times by now, mostly for vigilantism with her herd of frankly frightening girl scouts; he's not too keen to make it a thing.

“-And now one last dash of garlic, if you would, Sir Raphala?” Mikey says theatrically, leaning past where Raph is standing on a stool to inspect the pot with a critical eye.

The sight of them makes something settle inside his chest, a restless little beast that never truly leaves. They’re absolutely covered in flour and flakes of dried herbs. There is a trail of miniature handprints across Mikey’s shell, leaving dusty evidence of Raph climbing on Mikey’s shoulders at some point. The cleanup alone–

Donnie internally sighs.

But he leans in the doorway, not quite willing to interrupt them quite yet.

It was a bit of a joke between the four of them, the hierarchy that came with being older. Mikey always insisted that excuse him, he would make an excellent brother, thank you very much. They had mostly reacted with eye rolls and fond scoffs, if only to make Mikey puff up with indignance.

It can’t be too hard if you losers managed, he had huffed.

Oh please, Leo had said, just keeping you from knocking your remaining brain cells out through head trauma was– is a full time job.

Leo, kindly shut up, Donnie added flatly. You have no right to say that to him.

Raph had just laughed at them, of course. Stupid older sibling privilege.

But Mikey seems to be taking this whole incident as a way to prove himself, and prove himself he has. With the occasional help of Leo, they both manage to have the snapper tired out and sleeping soundly hours before curfew. Absolute goofballs, all three of them. April is up to the same nonsense, but she gets a free pass because Donnie is certain there's still a brain up there somewhere.

But Mikey would make a good older brother, Donnie thinks, watching him blow flour at Raph and pretend to get blown backwards when Raph shoves him away with a shriek. They both collapse onto the ground in a flurry of giggles and snorts.

It’s a funny thought, imagining a world where Mikey would be the one to guide and protect them, orange instead of red eclipsing his view as they faced down opponents. To have a Mikey that didn’t claw and hiss in an effort to prove himself. The thought sits uncomfortably behind his plastron, tender and alien.

Because Mikey’s hands are so so gentle when they land on top of Raph’s, explaining the purpose of each spice used as he guides Raph in stirring the broth.

“And make sure not to stir too fast,” Mikey is saying, “the soup is hot and it would hurt real bad to splash it anywhere.”

Says the same turtle that would pick up the copper pot bare-handed to transfer it to the table, insisting that it was “quicker” that way. Donnie can’t help it, he snorts.

“I see mother-hen Mikey is still enjoying his free trial?” he teases.

Mikey shoots him a half-hearted glare. The bright pink matching aprons lessen the effect somewhat. April is going to have a field day once she gets back from Casey’s best attempt at inflicting long distance tinnitus.

“Oh shut it Dee,” Mikey hisses without feeling. He swings fully around to face Donnie, arms braced on his hips and chest puffed out. “Keep talking like that and see if you get first pick of the breadsticks.”

Donnie pays him no mind, too focused on the way Raph is still balanced carefully on the stool, beaming as he mimics Mikey’s pose. Damn him and his lack of recording equipment this week.

He ends up getting the last pick of breadsticks at lunch, go figure.

Leo feels as though his heart is made of glass, emotions on show for everyone to see. It really isn’t fair, he worked hard for his smooth talking, clown honking image you know.

Evidently, Raph doesn’t know.

The little snapper is relentless in his pursuit. He’s constantly barreling his way into Leo’s room with teary eyes and stuffed animal in hand, or with a bouncy ball and two oversized blankets dragging behind him. Any and every little excuse he could take to wiggle his way underneath Leo’s arm like he was made specifically to fit snugly against the slider’s side. He’d have a talk with Barry later.

And, oh, if it isn’t bringing down every barrier Leo has left.

He can’t handle it, this Raph that trembles against his side when shadows in the lair stretch too long, who looks at him with unfiltered awe and adoration. Who tumbles through Leo’s walls as if they’re made of paper without even knowing.

As it turns out, those tense months after Leo was labeled leader could have been avoided had Raph only been a toddler during it. There is no doubt that Leo would have hung off his every word, if his current situation was to say anything.

Even now, the small snapper is curled against his plastron, still radiating heat in that strange way that only he does, though they’re all cold blooded. He is the center of the warmth blooming on Leo’s chest, rumbling with happiness every time Leo’s animal crossing avatar successfully catches a butterfly.

The air itself feels warmer, unable to be anything but perfect in the little bubble his younger older brother has created around them.

“-and you hear that sound? Means there’s a balloon up there somewhere,” Leo says.

Raph makes a humming sound, nodding his little head in acknowledgement.

“It has treasure in it that you can shoot down,” Leo explains and grins. “Watch your pro gamer bro get it in one try.”

He shoots for the balloon and misses. He tries again and the gift box hits the ground in reach of his avatar.

Raph laughs at him because of course he does, little menace. And he also shrieks when Leo digs his fingers into his side in retaliation, spiked shell scraping against Leo’s plastron as he tries to flip himself around.

Leo can’t smother the wince in time.

With a care incongruent of a tot, his brother reaches around to lift himself off of Leo’s chest, face set in a frown before he even fully turns around. His eyes are doing something sad and it hurts to look at. Leo panics.

“You know if you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles before you’re even ten, hermano.” He goes for a light tease, goofball Leo covering worried Leo.

Seems as though Raph won’t be deterred this time. The mini snapper rubs at Leo’s plastron, where shallow little grooves sit as if trying to mold the keratin smooth again. The scratches will be gone by the morning, Barry’s work is too meticulous for anything less than a bomb to affect them by now. But Raph looks torn, and oh, Leo forgot that face.

Self-reproach, thinly veiled frustration over something he couldn’t change.

It was a common one when they were young, before they truly understood how different they all were, reckless and energetic as kids tended to be. And Raph, who has a shell covered in sharp spikes, who has the hardest shell of them all, left scratches and scrapes everywhere he went. Leo personally had found it hilarious, it was nearly impossible for his older brother to sneak anywhere without leaving scuff marks in every corner.

It wasn’t funny, not really. Nor is it funny now, with Raph still dejectedly rubbing away at the scratches.

“Hey now,” Leo soothes,”it’ll take so much more than that to hurt me. Barely felt like a tickle.”

Raph’s bottom lip wobbles. Oh shit.

“C’mon!” Leo laughs, “I’ve gotten papercuts more life threatening.” He lands his hands on top of Raph’s, nudging them slightly away from the grooves. “Your lil bro is strong now Raph,” a smile, “trust me.”

“Leo is always strong,” Raph mumbles.

How is he going to last four more days of this?

“Maybe as strong as Raphie?” Leo asks, trying to spark some comedy back into the situation so he has something to ground him. He needs it.

Raph, thank god, finally smiles. He glances left and right like he’s hiding from sight, then lowers down to whisper near Leo’s face like he’s sharing a secret. “Leo is always as strong as Raph.”

Oh the nerve of his heart to melt like that.

Maybe this Raph won’t ever know the significance of it. Maybe his Raph wouldn’t either.

Leo has spent the last two years desperately hiding away from Raph’s colossal shadow. He was so so scared that he would reach his hands out to his older brother and never be able to reach anything but what Raph left behind. That his hands would phase right through his shadow, forever found lacking in dinosaur sized shoes to fill.

And after the world almost ended for his mistakes, Leo’s been trying so hard. He knows that his family will always be behind him, supporting him in his every move because they trust him.

Raph, who he pushed away because he was so afraid of a rejection and resentment that never came, will always stand at his side, to provide that safety net that he never got from Splinter.

But every interaction between them will always have blood, labored breathing, the Kraang’s shrieking laughter, hole in Raph’s shell, there’s a hole in Raph’s shell-

This Raph is untouched by their shared memories. This Raph only sees Leo the goofball, Leo the confident moron, Leo the science nerd, Leo the little brother.

Maybe because it came from this Raph, maybe this time, Leo can allow himself to believe it, just for a little while.

Chapter Text

Today is the final day, according to his calculations.

Leo did make fun of him for the dramatic phrasing, but according to all his scans, whatever curse is keeping Raph in toddler town will wear off sometime late afternoon. Thus, it really is the last day they have with their temporarily shorter brother. Donnie is trying really really hard not to think about it for too long.

Until then, the three of them just need to make sure lil Raphie doesn’t brain himself on a low hanging shelf.

“Raph is bored.”

Donnie sighs and spins around, doing an extra flip, sick, before planting both feet effortlessly once the chair spins to perfectly face his brother. Said brother is fiddling with Lace Face, rubbing his claws against the textured skin of the football, and staring up at Donnie with expectant eyes.

“Raphala, I told you, you can play with everything in the lab, except anything that has a green sticker,” Donnie says.

Raph isn’t pleased in the slightest by this. “Donnie, everything has a green sticker on it!” He points slightly past Donnie’s knee. “Even the trash bin has a sticker!”

Well yes, because the trashcan contains some scrapped metal, which Raph can do more harm to than it to him, but was ruled as too dangerous by the council (Mikey). Donnie himself was opposed to having Raph in his lab for Mandatory Babysitting, but Mikey gave him a whole speech about bonding and making sure Raph sees all three of them for an equal amount of time, in their spaces, in order to feel properly cared for while he’s so vulnerable yada yada—

Donnie almost watched Mikey put a green “Not For Raphie!” sticker on the goddamn floor because it was “too slippery, what if he trips and slides across the room into the turbines and then he turns into turtle smoothie and it’ll be all our fau—“ before Leo had physically removed him from the lab.

Leo has been giving him steady updates on the situation, and telling him to triple lock the lab doors if Donnie wanted to fulfill his mandatory Raph Bonding Moment without the sweet melody of Mikey boring through steel in order to fuss over their older brother once more.

Yeesh, maybe it was a good thing Draxum had stopped at four. Mikey at peak mothering instinct was something to be feared.

But, the problem at hand is that Donnie really wants to get work done, and Raph disagrees with this notion.

Just one more day Donnie—

He claps his hands in a sharp motion, relishing in the crisp change in the air. “Alright then Raph, how about you be my little tester for some new ice cream machines hm?” He has no ice cream machines in his lab.

Raph lights up, finally stopping his fiddling in favor of sticking his hands upwards and taking little hops. “Yes yes yes!” he chirps.

He will have some ice cream machines in his lab.

Forty seven flavors and sixteen sugar cone juggling mechanisms later, Raph is finally content, cradling a single cone of strawberry in one hand and his beloved stuffed bear in the other. There’s a smear of ice cream on the bear’s cheek, because Raph is supposed to share, the snapper had stated with gravitas.

It’s endearing, and it makes for a great photo.

Tucking the camera attachment away in his shell, he folds down to sit next to his brother, surrounded on all sides by janky little ice cream dispensers. “Finally satisfied, you fiend?”

Raph gives a light giggle, wiggling his legs in front of him in an unquestionably giddy manner. Donnie’s heart is so full of light it might choke him.

For a lack of anything better to do, he takes Raph’s bear out of his grip, trying to free up his other hand before the little one spills his treat. A flash in his memory, Raph doing the same for a tiny orange blur, hands impossibly gentle. And in a blink, it’s gone.

“You know, right now this little guy is older than you.” He says flatly, running his thumb softly over the missing eye. The stitches are rough, bumps where the thread was knotted clumsily by a child's hands. “He’s been through a lot.” The familiar texture makes his fingers sore, riddled with phantom pains of knicks and pokes. “A bit ugly isn’t he?”

A light smack lands on his arm and he flinches.

“Raph is sorry for hitting, but he’s not ugly!” Raph is frowning now, hands sticky but no cone in sight. “Take that back, it’s mean.”

Donnie smirks. “I don’t think you can make me, little man.” Maybe it’s mean, Raph isn’t exactly used to being the little guy. “I could repair that thing in my sleep,” he brags, “Older you never let me, but I could fix him up good as new! Maybe add a speaker or AI in there while I’m at it.” The schematics skim past his vision, it would only take an afternoon really. This is his chance to finally fix that damn plushie!

“No!” Raph blurts, snatching the bear back.

The abruptness of the motion shakes Donnie out of his thoughts, and his eyes narrow down on Raph’s expression. He’s upset. Whoops

“He’s perfect,” Raph says, cradling the bear close. “He doesn’t need anything.”

Despite himself, Donnie can’t help being amused. “I can think of at least three things he needs, big guy.” A wash, for one.

Raph’s brow furrows further, and Donnie should really stop antagonizing him before Mikey senses Raph’s vibes changing and decides to gnaw through steel plating to beat Donnie’s ass over it—

“Raph is holding Raph’s Donnie’s hug,” Raph says, still gloriously upset over the whole thing.

Donnie would make fun of him, as is his Pizza Supreme given right, if he wasn’t knocked slightly off kilter. huh?

“Buddy, you know I’m Donnie right?” He ventures.

Raph nods half-heartedly. “Donnie is Donnie, but my Donnie is small,” he says slowly, like Donnie is the one being difficult. “My Donnie fixed him, even though he likes metal more than plushies, which is dumb.” Ok, wow. “And Dad says Donnie fixes things instead of giving hugs like Mikey and I do or saying ‘I love you’ like Leo does. So you can’t fix him, because he’s my Donnie’s hug.”

Hm. That’s a little disorienting.

It should make him happy, finding out after all these years why Raph wouldn’t let him fix that goddamn bear plush. The thing has been driving him insane for years, but it’s the only thing Raph wouldn’t let him touch. Every item in Raph’s room has been repaired from the constant scratches and scraping, and frankly the plush was a blight in Donnie’s eyes.

Maybe it does, a little bit, not that Donnie purely understands why the sentiment would keep Raph from bringing it to Donnie now that he has the skills to do it better this time around.

“But if I fix it now, won’t it just be a hug from current me?” Donnie tries.

Raph shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” dramatic sigh, why must children always confound me “My Donnie is small.”

It’s really not the elaboration that Raph thinks it is.

Maybe sensing Donnie’s confusion, or maybe just seeing the flat look still on his face, Raph tries again. “You can build giant ice cream dragons that are super super cool! They can move and dance and poop sprinkles!” Raph grins, using his outspread arms for emphasis. “You’re amazing!”

A grin splits Donnie’s face. “Yes yes tell me more about how amazing I am.” It earns him a familiar eye roll that feels like home.

“But my Donnie…he fixed my teddy bear and took allll night even though he thinks I didn’t notice.” Raph hugs the bear close, “I know he hurt his hands, ‘s why he couldn’t play sportsball that day.”

Raph isn’t looking at him anymore, obviously trying his best to order words in a way Donnie will understand. “Just because my Donnie didn’t do perfect doesn’t mean it’s not a Donnie hug!” Little hands land on his own slack ones, like Raph is imagining hands three times as small, covered in purple bandaids. “My Donnie is the best,” his eyes widen, “you’re also the best! But it’s different. You can do so much and so fast and it’s so cool! But it’s not more than my Donnie—“

He’s starting to get worked up, brows furrowed and speaking faster, so Donnie intervenes. “I think I get it,” Donnie hums. “You want to make sure your Donnie knows his hug was accepted?” His hands are light as they wiggle out from underneath Raph’s grip, landing solidly on the little snapper’s shoulders. His brother’s unmarred skin is smooth under callused fingers.

His answer is spot on, looks like.

“Yes!” Raph chirps, positively glowing at having successfully gotten Donnie to understand. “It’s my Donnie’s hug! And it’s just as good as your magic ice cream machines!”

Someone should look into what it means when your chest feels as if it’s light as helium, drifting away from him as he looks down at his wonderful older brother. He feels as though this moment should be trapped in a frame, hung in his lab next to Mikey’s drawings, and yet he doesn’t reach for his camera.

“Ah ah ah,” Donnie says imperiously, “firstly, it’s not magic it’s science, and secondly, you’re pushing it a little there pal.” He winks. “You’re forgetting that I’m always the best, and that includes being better than past versions of myself.”

The resulting scuffle is more than worth the mess, everything in his lab coated in a layer of melted ice cream and various fruit syrups. Mikey and Leo come in to find them snoring underneath Donnie’s desk, the snoozing snapper sprawled face down atop Donnie’s scarred shell.

Raph’s teddy bear is held delicately between Donnie’s hands, soft and perfect.

Oh this Raph is so precious he might just die–

Mikey reaches out just in time to catch the little guy as he springs off the couch, a huff forced out as he hits resistance much sooner than he expected.

–but would it kill him to be a little more careful? To be frank, Mikey’s heart can’t take much more of this.

Raph giggles, “Mikey you’re so good at this!” Small hands thump against his plastron as Mikey goes to hoist his tiny older brother on his hip, “Can we swing from the turbine yet?” Hoo boy

“Not yet, big man,” Mikey says, reasonably.

“But Raph is strong! And Mikey is big!” Raph counters, unreasonably.

Mikey smiles instead of dribbling his older brother like a basketball, and gently offers something else. “Does that mean you don’t wanna help me paint Donnie’s lab door orange?”

There’s no answer, but the rapid increase of thumping on his plastron from excited hands is telling enough.

The paint job is horrendous. They run out of neon orange halfway through the first panel, and thus had to start mixing it from red and yellow. It would have been fine, Mikey knows he’s talented in his paints and matching a singular color? Child’s play.

Except of course, the actual child beside him, who has an intense bias towards the color red.

And thus half the door is neon orange, the other a very dark yellow, and Raph is covered head to toe in a thick layer of red wall paint, leaving gruesome footprints leading to and from the scene of the crime. Mikey sends a preemptive prayer for their poor bathtub.

“Mikey!”

He cranes his neck back to look at where Raph’s voice echoed from and spots his silhouette perched on the landing directly above Mikey. How the hell did he get up there so fast?

His traitorous heart rate spikes as the landing starts to swing slightly under the force of Raph’s enthusiastic waving. “Watch this! Watch this! Leo taught me something super cool!”

Heart in throat, Mikey calls back. “Raph! That’s a little high isn’t it?” It’s really not, Mikey and his brothers use the entire base like a jungle gym on a tame day. But his instincts are screaming at him, climbing up his throat and lodging there.

Raph seems to find the notion just as ridiculous, and Mikey knows it’s the wrong thing to say when the snapper’s eyes narrow in defiance, seemingly set on his path now.

Seemingly uncaring of Mikey’s imminent crisis, Raph takes two steps back for a buildup before launching himself off the landing with a huge jump that’s honestly pretty impressive.

Not that Mikey can tell beneath the sheer panic that goes through him at the sight of his paint covered, silly, adorable, tiny brother falling through the air at dangerous speeds.

“Raph!”

Mikey dives almost without thinking, kicking his legs off the wall for an added boost so that he could intercept the tiny turtle mid fall. His arms meet their target, wrapping underneath him before tightening. Mikey twists, curling completely around Raph before impact. The thud of his back meeting the opposing wall rattles his shell.

He shakes to clear his head before remembering to check on Raph. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the little guy starts crying, or Pizza Supreme forbid– is hurt.

There’s a bit of an awkward shuffle as he loosens his grip. “Are you okay—“

“I’m not a baby!”

Mikey blinks, looking down at his arms right as Raph shoulders his way out of them.

A growl splits the air between them, and Mikey can feel the rumble down reverberating through his bones. “Why do you keep treating me like a tot? Raph’s not dumb, there’s a mattress right there!” Raph points downward where, to Mikey’s growing embarrassment, there is actually a massive Donnie-tech mattress laid out on the floor. It’s the one they use for turtle piles underneath the giant heat lamp, soft enough that even if Big Raph had launched himself from the landing, it wouldn’t have even made a sound.

Mikey opens his mouth, to say what, he doesn’t quite know, “I–”

“Donnie and Leo don’t treat me like I’m dumb!” Raph continues, halfway to a tantrum it seems. Mikey’s heart aches. “I’m five and a half, and I can do things myself! I wanted to show you because it’s really really cool and Leo said you would like it!”

His hands reach out without his input, drawn in on instinct to soothe, salvage the situation somehow, some way. “Raph–”

“No!” Raph shouts. “Why won’t you trust Raph?”

“Why won’t you trust me Raph?”

“Donnie and Leo don’t treat me like a baby, so don’t start!”

“What part of ‘by myself’ don’t you understand?”

Ah.

Seeing as Raph doesn’t seem in the mood to accept any vocal addition from Mikey, he opts to instead reach out to grab the snapper’s hand. When it’s not tugged or slapped away, he goes as far as to pull Raph slowly towards him, reeling Raph in until he has his brother encased in his arms. It’s strange, he’s never once in his life been able to close his arms in a link around Raph. He packs that thought away for later. For now, he just enjoys the feeling of having his brother pressed up against him, whole and safe.

Raph is still upset, brows furrowed and teeth clenched tightly enough that it worries Mikey. But he allows Mikey his hug, even returning it after a beat, so Mikey knows that he didn’t go too far.

“I’m sorry big man,” Mikey starts, trying to rub gentle circles on Raph’s shell in spite of the spikes, just as his older brother would do after petty fights or long nights. “I didn’t mean to stop you from showing off your awesome skills. That was on me, and I’m sorry.”

There’s a shift as Raph attempts to pull back, but Mikey’s not done just yet. “But you gotta understand man, I don’t do it because I don’t trust you,” and he’s starting to realize his Raph probably knows this already, “I do it because I love you, and it’s scary to watch you do things that might get you hurt.”

Raph opens his mouth. Mikey makes a gentle shushing sound. “It’s my turn now Raph, can you let me say everything?”

There’s a moment of nothing, and then, a tiny nod against his shoulder.

He continues with his circles as he speaks, “Raph, I know I should trust you more, and I know, I do, that one little trip or scrape won’t hurt you.” At this point, Raph could probably break wood boards on his face without even a scratch. “But you’re so small.” Mikey can feel Raph’s need to speak, most likely to say he isn’t that small. But he needs Raph to hear this, both versions of him. “You’re so small and even though I know you can do these things, I’m so scared that something will happen. I know it’s dumb, and you’re annoyed, and you have every right to be!” He closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I love you.”

There had been an incident when Mikey was thirteen, so desperate to prove himself he was practically set aglow. There was an incoming attack from above, angled like a surprise, but he had it under control. He had called out a heads up, letting the blades get closer and closer to him so he could catch them and send them back towards Hypno.

Raph had intercepted before he could do much of anything, deflected Hypno’s rings against his braced forearms, and it had left long, bloody grooves along his scales.

Mikey doesn’t remember much, but he remembers Leo and Donnie’s hands like metal bands against his forearms as he bared his teeth, spitting in rage. He remembers Raph looking at him with exhaustion clear in his eyes, not even standing in the face of his anger. He remembers those damn bandages, spotted with hideous red.

“Damn it Raph I had it! I said I had it!”

“You always do this! Why can’t you just trust me?”

And his eldest brother’s eyes had looked so weary as he responded.

“I’m sorry, I love you.”

Tiny Raph holds his hands in between his own, and Mikey’s dwarf his. But Raph holds them close, and forgives him. Just as he always does, always has.

Raph, I get it now I think.

They spend the next hour playing tag, crashing into tables and walls. It causes a big mess, and a bigger headache for Splinter when he catches Mikey juggling a completely paint covered Raph like a beanbag. But when Mikey reaches out to tug Raph out of the way of a ceiling fan, or hanging tube or wire, he gets nothing but a soft giggle and high five in return. And that, to Mikey, is the best outcome he could have ever dreamed of.