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Description
Donatello was not having a good day.
First, he'd spent the better part of the morning taking care of Leo, who had once again waited until the last possible moment to come to terms with the fact that he was having another one of his migraine attacks. Of course once that was over, he'd had to deal with fixing his computer after one of his programs had gone awry and thrown the entire security system into disarray. That had probably been when his head had started pounding. Then after another checkup on Leo, he was currently repairing the engine in the BattleShell- and his ribs had started aching fiercely with how much he'd been coughing.

He dropped the wrench with a clang onto the cement floor and rolled over as another gut-wrenching spell of nausea swept through him. Cold sweat beaded on his face from the effort of maintaining his composure. Groaning softly he managed to sit up, and he leaned his hot aching forehead against the bumper of the BattleShell. He didn't particularly care about the cleanliness of the vehicle, only thought about how the cold metal dulled the pain in his head, and he had a vague thought that maybe he shouldn't be fixing their van when it would be better to be in bed- but brushed the thought away quickly.
In bed, he snorted- regretting the action when it sparked another coughing fit. "Ugh," he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to nullify the dull throbbing in his chest. He still had to run diagnostics on the security circuits to make sure they were in fact running smoothly- and he couldn't afford to take any chances whatsoever with their safety.

All right Don, get up, you can do it. He had to grab on to the van to pull himself to his feet and had a sudden thought, jeez, why isn't Raph doing this? He knows perfectly well how to disassemble and put an engine back together. He took back the thought the instant he'd thought it, I don't know why I'm being so bitter, he was surprised at himself. Fighting a strange lightheadedness, he made his way to the lab where immediately he sank down onto his computer chair with relief.
Too bad no one else knows how to do this; he thought regretfully as he opened the programs that he needed. His eyes started burning immediately with the harsh glare of the monitors. He squeezed them shut- and sighed as the burning stopped quickly. Damn, he remembered something and his head shot up, bringing with it another crippling spell of vertigo. He had to wait several seconds for it to pass before getting up, he had to checkup on Leo again.
It would be great if I had two of me, he thought. Must be nice having someone t- he froze mid-thought as he stared at the empty bed. "Agh- Leo!" Panicking at the thought of his wayward brother wandering into the sewers or worse in his condition he ran to the den where predictably he found Michelangelo in the kitchen.
"Mikey, I-" his body decided to let him know it didn't agree with the sudden exertions of running around the lair and he had to sit down quickly as he started feeling woozy again. "Can- can you help me find Leo? He's not in his room, I don't know where-"

"Donny, are you feeling okay? You look like hell bro." Michelangelo's eyes were wide with concern.
Donatello waved the questions away impatiently, "No-come on Mike I'm looking for Leo, you know he-"
"Is in the med room, where we always go when anything at all is wrong with us. He's sleeping- Raph checked up on him ten minutes ago."
"Oh." Don winced at the obvious answer. Why did I go to his room? I must be more out of it than I thought. "So, he's okay then?" he asked sheepishly. "For now, yes." Mikey didn't break eye contact with the turtle. "You're sick." "What?" The blunt observation caught Donatello off guard.
His younger brother rolled his eyes, "Don't play dumb, your eyes are red, you're super pale, and don't think we couldn't hear you hacking up a lung in the garage earlier. Not to mention you looked like you were about to hurl the moment you got here."
"He what now?" Raphael walked in and saw Michelangelo's expression of disapproval. He followed his line of vision to Donatello, "Fuck Don, what've you been doin' ta yerself?"
Uncomfortable and a little annoyed at what had started to feel like an interrogation, Donatello snapped back, "Yes, I'm sick. Great deductions guys. Now excuse me, I have to go finish the security-" His cough chose the most inopportune moment to make another appearance. Wordlessly Raphael moved to rub his shell in circles until the fit stopped, and Michelangelo turned to pour a glass of water, sliding it across the counter in front of his brother.

Eyes watering a little at the pain in his chest, Donatello took the glass gratefully. "First things first," Raphael started, crossing his arms over his plastron with a dangerous expression daring Donatello to interrupt him, "Y'ain't doin' no security checks. Not tahday, not tahmorrow, not 'til that fever's broken 'n then some."

"But-"

"No buts Don, listen." Mikey broke in, "Raph and I already went through the sewers and checked all the cameras. They're active and working just fine." Donatello's jaw dropped, "You what? You- but-" This time it was Michelangelo who waved at him impatiently. "We were hoping to get back before you'd finished the repair work so Raph could take over from there, but we were too late. So then we decided Raph would go check up on Leo and I'd start your soup, speaking of which-" he checked the burner level and gave what was in the pot a stir, "-its just about done."

He replaced the lid and bounced a little on the balls of his feet to lean forward on the counter towards his brother, "So, you want soup now, or after you've gotten some sleep? Cause you totally look like you need it."

"He's eatin' it now so 'e can take 'is meds." Raphael re-entered the room. Donatello hadn't noticed his disappearance and jumped at hearing the voice behind him. "Soup it is then!" Mikey said cheerfully, reaching for a bowl.

"Dammit. Raph can you get that?" Raphael rolled his eyes and plunked two pills on the counter as he walked past, "Move over ya hobbit." Mikey scrunched his beak at the nickname but accepted the bowl without complaint and ladled out a generous portion of steaming black bean soup, Donatello's absolute favorite.

"Eat up bro!" Taken aback at how quickly his plans had been replaced, it took Don a moment to reach for the bowl. "What's wrong?" Michelangelo promptly asked, having noticed the hesitation. "Nothing. I- I just-" he stammered, feeling incredibly awkward with what he was about to admit.
"Spit it out genius."

"I kinda, I thought you guys had forgotten me- and now I feel like a jerk," he forced himself to look up. "Aw Don." "Nice going brainiac," Raphael wasn't sure whether to look exasperated or concerned, "For tha record, if you'd come ta any of us or come out of yer hole once in awhile it'd be easier ta see that ain't true." "Yeah I figured," Donatello gave a wry smile, "Sorry."

Without warning he felt a body slam into him as Mikey buried his face in his side. Caught off guard-he stiffened, but relaxed into the secure embrace and wrapped his arms around his little brother. "Thanks bro."

"Yeah yeah yeah get yer paws offa him Mike, he needs ta eat." Ever the mother hen despite his insistence of the contrary, Raphael tugged Mikey's mask to get him off. "Aight, ya know where ta find me if ya need anythin'," he tousled Don's mask tails in a rare gesture and left.

"You haven't started yet Donny!" Mikey watched him to make sure he followed through with his orders. With the first spoonful of soup, Donatello felt it warm him down to the tips of his toes, banishing most of the lingering chill he hadn't realized existed until then. With a contented sigh he sat down to finish the rest, and with every spoon that followed, his terrible mood from before faded further and further until it was permanently in the past.

"Do you like it?" Mikey asked, already knowing the response but wishing to hear it aloud. "It's perfect Mikey, thank you."

Donatello continued eating, finally realizing he'd never been forgotten, they just been waiting for him to remember.

-End

Description
Donatello was not having a good day.
First, he'd spent the better part of the morning taking care of Leo, who had once again waited until the last possible moment to come to terms with the fact that he was having another one of his migraine attacks. Of course once that was over, he'd had to deal with fixing his computer after one of his programs had gone awry and thrown the entire security system into disarray. That had probably been when his head had started pounding. Then after another checkup on Leo, he was currently repairing the engine in the BattleShell- and his ribs had started aching fiercely with how much he'd been coughing.

He dropped the wrench with a clang onto the cement floor and rolled over as another gut-wrenching spell of nausea swept through him. Cold sweat beaded on his face from the effort of maintaining his composure. Groaning softly he managed to sit up, and he leaned his hot aching forehead against the bumper of the BattleShell. He didn't particularly care about the cleanliness of the vehicle, only thought about how the cold metal dulled the pain in his head, and he had a vague thought that maybe he shouldn't be fixing their van when it would be better to be in bed- but brushed the thought away quickly.
In bed, he snorted- regretting the action when it sparked another coughing fit. "Ugh," he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to nullify the dull throbbing in his chest. He still had to run diagnostics on the security circuits to make sure they were in fact running smoothly- and he couldn't afford to take any chances whatsoever with their safety.

All right Don, get up, you can do it. He had to grab on to the van to pull himself to his feet and had a sudden thought, jeez, why isn't Raph doing this? He knows perfectly well how to disassemble and put an engine back together. He took back the thought the instant he'd thought it, I don't know why I'm being so bitter, he was surprised at himself. Fighting a strange lightheadedness, he made his way to the lab where immediately he sank down onto his computer chair with relief.
Too bad no one else knows how to do this; he thought regretfully as he opened the programs that he needed. His eyes started burning immediately with the harsh glare of the monitors. He squeezed them shut- and sighed as the burning stopped quickly. Damn, he remembered something and his head shot up, bringing with it another crippling spell of vertigo. He had to wait several seconds for it to pass before getting up, he had to checkup on Leo again.
It would be great if I had two of me, he thought. Must be nice having someone t- he froze mid-thought as he stared at the empty bed. "Agh- Leo!" Panicking at the thought of his wayward brother wandering into the sewers or worse in his condition he ran to the den where predictably he found Michelangelo in the kitchen.
"Mikey, I-" his body decided to let him know it didn't agree with the sudden exertions of running around the lair and he had to sit down quickly as he started feeling woozy again. "Can- can you help me find Leo? He's not in his room, I don't know where-"

"Donny, are you feeling okay? You look like hell bro." Michelangelo's eyes were wide with concern.
Donatello waved the questions away impatiently, "No-come on Mike I'm looking for Leo, you know he-"
"Is in the med room, where we always go when anything at all is wrong with us. He's sleeping- Raph checked up on him ten minutes ago."
"Oh." Don winced at the obvious answer. Why did I go to his room? I must be more out of it than I thought. "So, he's okay then?" he asked sheepishly. "For now, yes." Mikey didn't break eye contact with the turtle. "You're sick." "What?" The blunt observation caught Donatello off guard.
His younger brother rolled his eyes, "Don't play dumb, your eyes are red, you're super pale, and don't think we couldn't hear you hacking up a lung in the garage earlier. Not to mention you looked like you were about to hurl the moment you got here."
"He what now?" Raphael walked in and saw Michelangelo's expression of disapproval. He followed his line of vision to Donatello, "Fuck Don, what've you been doin' ta yerself?"
Uncomfortable and a little annoyed at what had started to feel like an interrogation, Donatello snapped back, "Yes, I'm sick. Great deductions guys. Now excuse me, I have to go finish the security-" His cough chose the most inopportune moment to make another appearance. Wordlessly Raphael moved to rub his shell in circles until the fit stopped, and Michelangelo turned to pour a glass of water, sliding it across the counter in front of his brother.

Eyes watering a little at the pain in his chest, Donatello took the glass gratefully. "First things first," Raphael started, crossing his arms over his plastron with a dangerous expression daring Donatello to interrupt him, "Y'ain't doin' no security checks. Not tahday, not tahmorrow, not 'til that fever's broken 'n then some."

"But-"

"No buts Don, listen." Mikey broke in, "Raph and I already went through the sewers and checked all the cameras. They're active and working just fine." Donatello's jaw dropped, "You what? You- but-" This time it was Michelangelo who waved at him impatiently. "We were hoping to get back before you'd finished the repair work so Raph could take over from there, but we were too late. So then we decided Raph would go check up on Leo and I'd start your soup, speaking of which-" he checked the burner level and gave what was in the pot a stir, "-its just about done."

He replaced the lid and bounced a little on the balls of his feet to lean forward on the counter towards his brother, "So, you want soup now, or after you've gotten some sleep? Cause you totally look like you need it."

"He's eatin' it now so 'e can take 'is meds." Raphael re-entered the room. Donatello hadn't noticed his disappearance and jumped at hearing the voice behind him. "Soup it is then!" Mikey said cheerfully, reaching for a bowl.

"Dammit. Raph can you get that?" Raphael rolled his eyes and plunked two pills on the counter as he walked past, "Move over ya hobbit." Mikey scrunched his beak at the nickname but accepted the bowl without complaint and ladled out a generous portion of steaming black bean soup, Donatello's absolute favorite.

"Eat up bro!" Taken aback at how quickly his plans had been replaced, it took Don a moment to reach for the bowl. "What's wrong?" Michelangelo promptly asked, having noticed the hesitation. "Nothing. I- I just-" he stammered, feeling incredibly awkward with what he was about to admit.
"Spit it out genius."

"I kinda, I thought you guys had forgotten me- and now I feel like a jerk," he forced himself to look up. "Aw Don." "Nice going brainiac," Raphael wasn't sure whether to look exasperated or concerned, "For tha record, if you'd come ta any of us or come out of yer hole once in awhile it'd be easier ta see that ain't true." "Yeah I figured," Donatello gave a wry smile, "Sorry."

Without warning he felt a body slam into him as Mikey buried his face in his side. Caught off guard-he stiffened, but relaxed into the secure embrace and wrapped his arms around his little brother. "Thanks bro."

"Yeah yeah yeah get yer paws offa him Mike, he needs ta eat." Ever the mother hen despite his insistence of the contrary, Raphael tugged Mikey's mask to get him off. "Aight, ya know where ta find me if ya need anythin'," he tousled Don's mask tails in a rare gesture and left.

"You haven't started yet Donny!" Mikey watched him to make sure he followed through with his orders. With the first spoonful of soup, Donatello felt it warm him down to the tips of his toes, banishing most of the lingering chill he hadn't realized existed until then. With a contented sigh he sat down to finish the rest, and with every spoon that followed, his terrible mood from before faded further and further until it was permanently in the past.

"Do you like it?" Mikey asked, already knowing the response but wishing to hear it aloud. "It's perfect Mikey, thank you."

Donatello continued eating, finally realizing he'd never been forgotten, they just been waiting for him to remember.

-End