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yorshie · 5 months

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Hii, I just Saw that your request are open and I couldn't help myself because i just love your work so much, especially "Pick Up the phone", i just want to know more! Could you do after the incident how the relationship grew and if the turtles ended up together with her??

hmmmm...listen. I knew exactly where Pick Up The Phone was going eventually when I wrote it, I just got a wee bit distracted writing other things. I guess it's about time I completed the story, I'm just really sorry because I'm sure you weren't thinking there'd be this much angst in it. Thank you for requesting this, hope you like it enough to wait til the third part before you write off the story as just sad.

PICK UP THE SLACK

Bayverse TMNT x Fem Reader Part One

Length: 5.7k

Summary/warnings: SFW, reader deals with the fallout of witnessing the turtles commit violence on her behalf. Warnings include: angst, trauma and coping with that trauma, panic attacks, complicated relationships, and, because when I wrote the first part the relationship was a bit vague, we're going with turtles have caught Feelings but reader isn't aware. Set in 2023 - turtles are 24-25

Tag list: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou @spooneyes

[Hey Angel! Would you like to come hang out for a little bit? I’m grabbing some noodles and Leo’s pulled out some of his old tapes?]

You stared at the text, thumb hovering over the keyboard, torn between answering- even if it was just a few words- and not responding at all.

Outside your apartment, an early summer storm curled its way in-between the buildings, fog pressing up against the window like a hand pressing its palm flat against the glass. While it wasn’t raining yet, the way your soft hair clung to your sweater said it would soon.

Your arm itched in it’s colorful cast, and your phone screen dimmed from inactivity, pulling your attention back to the problem at hand. You sighed, set the little device to the side before curling in on yourself and scrubbing your free hand over you face.

You didn’t mean to avoid the turtles. It just sort of happened… before you realized it was happening.

Memories of that night were a little hazy, a little blurry when you tried to focus on them. You remember Donnie and Leo dropping you off at the hospital in the wee hours of the morning, Donnie clipping something to the back of your ear to help them keep track of you before Leo nudged you towards the emergency room doors.

You remember the nurses fussing over you, asking questions. You gave them the answers Donnie whispered to you over the little comm, too tired and out of it to keep anything straight. You were barely aware of the way people danced around you, the pointed questions, too preoccupied with the burn in your arm and the fog in your head to worry about what anyone else thought.

They tried to get you to talk to a social worker when you doggedly reiterated your story over and over. When you refused, the nurses traded looks, and it bothered you more that they thought you weren’t aware enough to clock the silent messages than their obvious conclusion to your injuries.

Finally, after hours of dancing around, they confirmed that your arm was broken, but the break was clean and not all the way through, the doctor coming in to set the cast correctly before leaving you to the nurses once more.

They tried to keep you overnight for observation. When you refused that as well, they slapped a prescription in your hands to help with the pain and you were finally free, too far gone to worry about a tail following you out despite Donnie whispering in your ear.

You left by the front door, not really sure but walking on autopilot, unaware you were moving away from your watching protectors. Leo had scooped you up at the first alleyway you’d crossed, gaze curious. You knew he wanted to ask what was wrong, but you didn’t have an answer to give him. Not one that you could articulate, anyway.

The trip back to your apartment was a blur, but you remember distinctly standing in the middle of your living room, aware that someone had been in your space recently. Things had been moved. It wasn’t quite a good feeling, but you were too spaced to do more than blink and watch silently as Leo brushed past you and headed for your bathroom. He returned with a small bag of toiletries, and you hadn’t had the clarity to wonder how he knew what to grab.

“Why?” You’d asked, and maybe you’d tried to get out more words, but your throat was still so tight, the rest of the sentence trailing off into a slurred hum that had Donnie reaching for your arm.

“Raph forgot your toothbrush. “Leo said like it was common sense, tone gentle despite his tilted head, and you blinked again, an errant, floating thought wondering why Raph was even here in the first place.

Without thinking, you had looked around at your little space again. You swayed, silent, until you clocked movement in the corner of your vision and you realized both turtles were watching you worriedly.

“I want… to stay here.” You slurred out, pressing a hand up to your eye to keep your brain in place.

“You have a concussion.” Donnie interjected softly, practical and no nonsense. His hand slid up your arm to palm the side of your face, to cover your hand. “It’s really not a good idea for you to be alone right now.”

“But…” You tried to tilt your head up to look at him, failing somewhere around his shoulders.

“No buts,” Leo said, and you realized you had trailed off mid-thought. “You’re going to the Lair where we can watch over you. I don’t like how fast you’re deteriorating.”

You didn’t want to- might have even opened your mouth to slur out a weak protest, but Donnie was already hoisting you up, curling his lean arms around your torso and legs to keep you close against him as he followed Leo back out the window.

You had conceded to staying the night in the Lair, let the four turtles take turns making sure you were alright, suffered through the wake up checks before being lulled back to sleep against one of them while the tv played softly in the background, low enough that the sound garbled everything around you.

You weren’t exactly sure who was who, but you knew you woke up to each of them at least one, vibrant eyes staring into your own and fingers smoothing over the angles of your cheekbones, too close and too personal. You weren’t sure if it was your skin or theirs that felt feverish. Weren’t sure if it was your dreams or them that kept you jolting awake, crying and sweaty, but you were always aware of how strong their hands held you, how alien the rumble in their chests sounded, and the inky darkness always pressing at the edge of your vision.

In the morning you had bullied Mikey into taking you home, claiming the need of showering in your own space. He had conceded after you had threatened walking, sweet face falling into sadness when he had waffled and you had started outright bawling at the overwhelmed feeling gripping your chest.

Mikey had dropped you off at your apartment, and you had locked the window, turned off your phone, and bawled in the shower for an hour straight.

That had been two weeks ago. Now, the weather was turning, the first pings of rain occasionally hitting your window, and- and your phone was vibrating on the couch seat next to you.

“Please.” You whispered into your hands, before unfurling and letting your head rest against the couch cushions to stare at the ceiling. “Please, stop checking in on me.”

The phone stopped buzzing as if it heard your plea, and you had a moment of blissful numbness, your eyes sliding to half mast as you stared at the opposite wall.

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, why your thoughts moved so slow, so tepid. You didn’t understand why you were avoiding the turtles, your friends, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were scared and tired of the way your hands shook, of the way you kept looking around for the next thing coming. It had to stop.

All at once, you felt that awful ball of emotion in your chest again. The one that hadn’t fully disappeared since you had broken down in the harsh light of Donnie’s medical room, when the turtles had held your breaking pieces together. The seesaw of emotions teetered violently under your skin.

You needed to be held together.

Your phone started buzzing again, and this time your palm landed down on it with an audible smack, hand curling around to answer before you could think about the consequences.

“Mikey?” You rasped into the speaker, not quite sure what exactly you were asking but hoping he’d have an answer.

“Um… no. It’s me.” Came Leo’s apologetic tone, and you winced hard, but before you could apologize he was barreling onwards, “I can- I can get Mike for you-”

“Leo.” You wanted to shout his name, but it came out quiet. He stopped though, mid sentence, silent as he waited.

“I’m sorry.” You finally choked out. “I saw Mikey’s message, thought it was him calling.”

“Ah.” Leo breathed into the phone, and your lips almost twitched, the sound familiar despite all the times you’d tried to teach him how to angle his phone so the air wouldn’t whistle. “That’s… why I’m calling, actually? We thought maybe you hadn’t seen it.”

“I saw.” You were quiet for another minute, your mouth opening and closing several times, trying to get the words you wanted to come out but they stayed lodged in the back of your throat, tasting more awful with every passing second.

Leo was patiently quiet through it all, though you know he must have heard you lick your lips and your breath stutter each time you tried to start. Finally though, just as you were on the brink of whining at whatever it was you were failing to articulate, he spoke, his words a low rumble that rubbed against your ears.

“I wish you were here.” He said, and it unfurled something tight in your chest. “We miss you.”

And just like that, whatever was in your throat came out like a sob, and you pressed your arm across your eyes and leaned forward, emotion running from your throat to your chest in a heady rush until you couldn’t tell if it was elation or a sharp stab.

“I miss you guys too.” You got it out, somehow, too raw to know if you were telling the truth, but it was ripped out of you.

Leo made that low noise that you had only heard a handful of times before, where he was concerned but stuck, and the sound had you hiccuping at the knowledge that with this he couldn’t just pick you up and run from the danger.

“Can… can you come get me?” You started, stopped, powered through, and he answered too quickly, like he had been waiting for those words to leave your mouth.

“Raph’s on his way.” His tongue clicked, voice disappearing for a moment in what you assumed was his head pulling away to check on something. “Should- he should be there any minute.”

There was the heady rush of elation, the swoop at the top of the roller coaster you were waiting on. It felt a lot like falling though. You dug your nails deeply into your leg to stay focused.

“Stay on the phone?” With me, but it felt a little too much like an admission to breathe it out, but he didn’t hesitate in his answer.

“Of course.”

You breathed out low, letting the soft sounds from his side of the phone lull you back into a sort of calm numbness. You weren’t sure if a minute passed, or ten, but all too soon there was a tap at your window and you startled.

Leo must have heard the way your breath hitched. “Raph?”

“Y-yeah,” you pressed your palm into you eye, trying to steady yourself. “Guess… I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, yeah. You will.” He promised, stubborn enough to make you be the one to hang up.

You don’ think Leo warned his brother, because when you drew back the curtain to unlock the window, you could feel Raph burning a stare into the side of your head despite the way you kept your eyes stubbornly on the tricky task of unlocking the latch one handed.

He took over the job as soon as you lifted it enough for him to wedge his fingers under the pane. The window rattled a bit when he shoved it upwards with a grunt, and you flinched at the sound, before cutting off all movement at the feel of a heavy hand settling on the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Sweetheart?” He asked, thumb moving across skin made sensitive from you scrubbing at it. “Who- whose ass am I-”

“It’s nothing.” You whispered up at him, ducking away from his hand before chasing it with your own on instinct. You shivered at the way his hand swallowed yours whole and had grip left over for your wrist. “Just… feeling a bit-”

He pulled you closer, and you heard the sound you had gotten acquainted with the night they had watched over you, that rumble deep under his plastron that lingered at the edge of your auditory range. “Are you ok?”

No. “Yes.” Your eyes burned at the outright lie, and he leveled a shoulder against the edge of your window, raised his other hand to slide a knuckle under your chin. “Not… really.”

You whispered the confession with eyes fixed just over his shoulder, and he tilted his head until all you could see was the color of his bandana. “Talked to… Leo, about it… a bit. Just- well.” You brought up your free hand to press at your forehead, and the hand under your chin slid away. “Not really sure what’s… going on. Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta be sorry.” Raph assured you, tugging your other hand down when you started scrubbing at your face again, grip gentle on your cast. “As long as no one needs a lesson on not messin’ with ya.”

You shivered at the reminder, and the feeling of his hands swallowing yours became just a little to visceral for a moment. When you tried to tug out of his grip, he let you, though his rough sigh showed his frustration at the action.

You turned your head to the side to avoid the feeling that sound pulled up. “Can we… just go to the Lair?”

“Gotta say somethin’, first.” Raph argued, and you sighed roughly, but nodded for him to continue.

The ledge under the window creaked as he leaned through it, and you felt his fingers whisper over the nape of your neck before he cupped it, finger nudging the far side of your jaw to convince you to look at him.

You did, slowly, hand coming to absently rub at the thin skin above your cast where it suddenly itched.

“The last thing I ever wanna do,” He spoke lowly, holding your gaze, “is hurt you, sweetheart. I need you to know that, ok?”

You stared into his green flecked eyes, the color starting to swim as you felt tears well up. You blinked hard, nodding when he made a questioning rumble, and didn’t stutter at the feel of his thumb wiping across your face.

“Good. S’long as you know that.” He blew out a breath. When you reopened your eyes, and gave you a small crooked smile that looked like a shadow of the one he normally threw your way. “You ready to get going?”

You nodded, voice still locked in your tight throat, and took his offered hand to help clamber over the sill, straddling the worn wood before he leveled his weight backwards and you had enough room to sling your good arm over his shoulders.

The rain was soft pricks of cold across the back of your neck, Raph’s shell icy where your arm was pressed against it. You had a moment to wonder if you should climb back inside for a coat, but Raph’s next words drowned out the thought.

“Hold on tight with that arm.” He warned, his own arm slotting under your thighs, hand curling around one knee while the other squeezed just under his shell. “Taking the fast route through the tunnels, so might be best to close your eyes, princess.”

You nodded into his neck, breathing out slow when he abruptly let go of the ledge and you both free fell through the fog.

Leo was the first one you saw when you and Raph entered the Lair through the turnstiles, arms crossed and swaying back and forth, eyes trained on the floor as he listened to Donnie speak. The purple turtle was leaning against the table, long legs crossed in front of him, gesturing with his hands as he made some point to the leader in blue.

“-perfectly normal to come away from that with trauma, we should have been on the look out for it.”

Leo made some low sound at that, shaking his head in denial. “You know for a fact this wasn’t suppose to happen, whether or not we were on the look out for-” He broke off when he caught sight of the two of you, straightening and going still, and the change in his stance was enough to have Donnie turning around to squint as well.

“Mother hens say ‘what’.” Raph groused, large hand only tightening around the bend of your knee when you tried to slide out of his grip. The added height meant you didn’t have to crane up to meet the other two’s gaze, and after a moment you leaned back against Raph’s covered shoulder, let his shoulder pad bite into the slope of your head as Leo moved to stand in front of the red turtle.

“Hey.” He said, gaze flicking to your arm before settling on your face. You could see Donnie’s lips compress out of the corner of your eye, feel the tendons in Raph’s neck flex as he no doubt rolled his eyes.

You gave Leo a tight lipped smile, knew from the way both his and Donnie’s eyes jumped around your face that it was still rubbed raw from crying and scratching at it. “I was told there would be old movies and noodles?”

Leo blew out a breath at your words, his shoulders sagging, but Donnie stepped forward, hands careful as he gestured towards your cast and ran his thumbs along your limb when you held it outwards.

“Any new pain?” He asked, and when you shook your head no he seemed pleased, one hand sliding to cup along the back of your shoulder. “Well that’s good. I’ve projected that you should only have six more weeks in the cast, but I’d still like to take a proper look sometime tonight.”

The thought of going back into the sterile medical room had you swallowing heavily, pulse jumping as nausea rose up to press at your throat. “I don’t- I don’t think-”

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.” Raph said from behind you, and your head dipped, pulling your arms back in to hold them tight against your sides. “Don doesn’t have’ta poke-”

You didn’t really hear what he was saying, mouth moving on autopilot, a small voice prompting you to explain instead of keeping everything wrong wedged up under your ribs. When you interrupted him, Raph’s jaw all but snapped shut.

“-I don’t… want to go in that room again.” You said, more to the hand still locked around your knee than anyone else.

Donnie’s thumb rubbed a soothing stroke across your shoulder, and you made yourself relax into the motion, finding it comfortable when the digit repeated the trek. “Alright, that’s perfectly fine.” He bobbed his head, glasses catching on the light. “As long as there’s nothing new, it should be fine.”

You nodded to show you understood, and Leo spoke up again. “Mikey’s still getting the food, but would you mind waiting on the couch while we do some last minute cleaning?”

You shook your head no, not missing the way glances were traded over your tendency to remain non-verbal.

“Ok, then. I’ll start one of those movies to keep you company until we’re done.” Leo murmured, then led the way into the living room area, bending to shuffle an old tape out of its cover and into the player. You were distracted from watching him when Raph finally released your knee and let you slip onto the blanket covered couch.

“Be right back.” He tapped the top of your head to make sure he had your attention. “Don’t go disappearin, kay?”

“Kay.” You made yourself say, just to break your silence. You were rewarded with a little quirk of his lips, and a searching look from Donnie before the three shuffled out of the room and left you with the tv turned down low.

The movie was about a blind samurai, you thought, the opening scene a little familiar. Leo must have shown it to you before, but the monotone coloring was soothing, the subtitles large, blocky and blurry before you closed your eyes and just listening to the way the voices ebbed and flowed, uncaring that you didn’t have any idea what they were saying.

It wasn’t… as difficult, now that you were here. As long as you didn’t go into the medical room. And it was good to see your friends again. Something tight slowly started to ease in your muscles. The Lair was always a safe space, had always been a place you looked forward to visiting when you were invited. You repeated the mantra as the music from the movie started to swell.

The skin above your cast itched again, and you snuck a finger into the space right at the edge, dragged a nail along the little area. A lull in the movie’s soundtrack, and you hummed, knowing a fight scene was coming up, before faint voices had your eyes cracking open.

You sat up slowly, turning just your head to better catch where the words were coming from.

That was Donnie’s voice, just out of sight, and a harsh answering whisper that sounded like Raph had you moving on autopilot, feet quiet as you slipped a little rounding the couch. The whispers led you to the edge of Donnie’s half dome of monitors, the voices tucked behind the half closed door that led deeper into the Lab space.

“-get your head out your shell and stop pushing.” It was a patient tone you had heard a couple of times, a patent Leo Lecture, as Mikey called them behind his brother’s back to make you and Donnie snort with laughter.

Raph’s voice was much rougher in answering, “‘M not pushin, Fearless. All I did was tell her I didn’t want to hurt her, that’s it.”

“That’s obviously enough to set her off, Raphael.” Leo's stern words were followed by the sound of a palm shoving a face, and you wondered who shoved who before Donnie’s words cut between the two, and in-between your ribs.

“None of us thought it would turn out like this, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions until we figure out what the problem is exactly. Obviously,” he lingered on the word, “she’s experiencing some fight or flight response concerning us, but it could be left over from the ‘experience’, not our feelings for-.”

“She doesn’t know anything about that.” Raph cut in. “Or it’s not what’s buggin’ her. Came right to me when I got there.”

Your heart stopped, then thundered over itself to make up the difference, and you swallowed hard enough to feel the pull in the tendons on either side of your throat protest.

“Whether or not she knows, it’s enough that she’s on edge.” Leo’s voice came out clipped, tight, and you took a little step to the side, fingers finding the edge of Donnie’s desk as you struggled to listen through deep breaths. “We had a plan. It was working.”

“If that fucker hadn’t needed a beatdown, we wouldn’t be back to square one, but it is what-”

A hand, palm cool and callused, skirted up your cast free arm, and you shrieked, jumping backwards, hitting Donnie’s desk and sending half the bobbits strew across the surface clattering into the floor.

You were crying before you even registered it was Mikey, the orange turtle cooing and apologetic as he tightened his grip on you and tried calming you down. “Hey, babes- baby, I’m so sorry, please-”

You were shoving at him, ineffectively, palms scraping across the buckles of his backpack, but the sound of the heavy door you’d been eavesdropping at opening violently had you babbling out your own apologies at the green blobs with splashes of color across their faces crowded around you. Your heart thundered in your chest, color high in your face and nose running like a leaky faucet as they tried again and again to get you to calm down.

When they realized you weren’t calming down, and your breathing was turning into high pitched wheezes as your throat closed up in panic, you found yourself picked up, carried through the Lair. You squawked in panic when you thought they were heading for the medical room before whoever was holding you split to the right and the bathroom door loomed up instead.

It wasn’t until you were plopped down in front of one of the personalized sinks that you realized Leo had apparently lost the battle with his ‘get you someplace safe’ instincts, but his distraction with checking you over allowed you to shove your cast into his beak and duck into one of the widened bathroom stalls, effectively putting a barrier up between you and the four turtles.

You slid the flimsy lock home, and braced your arm across the door, shivering and heaving for breath between sobs. The four turtles were murmuring to themselves, not being quiet at all but the roaring in your ears kept you from making out words. With a stilted heave that whistled through your closed throat, you banged your fist against the door, the action sending vibrations through your muscles and tethering you to the ground.

The outside door shut, and for a moment you thought you were alone, that they had left you to settle. The thought had you pressing your forehead against the inside of your elbow, a stifled sob hitching your shoulders.

“Babes?” Michelangelo asked, and every muscles in your body went taunt once more.

He was quiet, though you could hear the sound of his palm sliding across the closed door, before the heavy sigh of him sitting outside the stall had you peering down, just seeing the bottom of his shell tucked against the tile.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you.” He said plainly, and as if a rope was cut, you breathed shakily into your arm, pressing your open mouth hard against your skin. You sunk down slowly, knowing he could hear you moving, until you crouched just behind him. If not for the door, you’d be splayed against his shell.

“You mean so much to me.” He whispered. “Mean so much to us. I should have thought before I grabbed you like that.”

You leaned your head forward, until the edge of your brow gently pressed against the cold plastic. It took two tries, but you finally pulled your mouth back from your skin, licked your lips, and whispered. “I wasn’t- suppose to find out yet, was I?”

You hoped he wouldn’t try and turn the question on its head, knowing he knew what you were talking about. His hearing was better than yours. Still, he made some low, wounded sound at the way your voice rasped broken and raw over the words.

“It certainly wasn’t how I envisioned it.” He offered with self deprecating humor, and you blinked, thinking the tone didn’t suit him at all.

“Who- who else?” God, it hurt to talk. Your knee hit the tiled floor as you readjusted, and Mikey’s shell shifted on the other side of the thin barrier between the two of you.

“Um….” He trailed off, but you heard the silent all of us, thinking back to the way they’d held you together the night your arm, and heart, had broken.

“Oh- God.” You choked on the word, coughed and brought your arm back to your mouth to muffle the sound.

Mikey moved, and for one terrified moment you thought he was going to try breaking the lock, but his steps moved away. Water running in the sink, and then he returned, shoved a glass under the little opening below the door.

You didn’t thank him as he returned to his spot, reaching down slowly and grabbing the chilled glass.

He waited until he heard you take a few sips, before asking. “How’s your arm? You shoved it into Leo’s face pretty hard.”

“It hurts.” You breathed into the glass, aware you’d been holding the cast tight against your chest.

“I’m gonna go get Donnie.” Mikey’s hand appeared under the door, splayed against the tile as he pushed himself upright.

“Don’t-” You cut off, until his hand turned, brushed against your shoe. “-go.” You swallowed. “Please.”

“I won’t, babes,” he promised, “Just gonna go get Dee, ok?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and sat down heavily as you listened to him moving for the bathroom door.

It was… a lot, to take in. Too much to do so right now, with your arm burning and your mind swirling around like a shaken fishbowl. You wanted to bury it, until the realization felt a little more distant. A little more manageable. You couldn’t-

You brutally squashed that train of thought, sitting down heavily with only one arm to balance yourself with. You stretched one foot out first, then the other, sticking your sneakers out from under the partition and leaning forward to place your fevered, sticky cheek against the door again.

You must have spaced out, because the sound of Donnie’s knuckles rapping gently against the plastic had you startling, pulling your feet back against your chest and scooting to the corner.

“Dove?” He called, and you saw the shadow of his hand on the handle. “I’m going to open the door, ok?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, staring at your shoes as he opened the lock from the outside. The door squeaked when he cracked it open, and you looked up finally, meeting his hesitant smile from where he craned around the door.

“There you are. Are you ready to come out, now?”

You weren’t, but you still moved, letting him grip under your bicep and help you find your feet when you wobbled.

“Good, that’s good. Let’s sit on the edge of the tub.” He led you, and you felt more than saw Mikey hovering just out of your space, watching you with concerned eyes.

When you were finally sitting on the tiled edge of the basin they called a bath, Donnie felt you for a moment, and Mikey returned to sit next to you, just shy of touching.

“Heya, babes. You’re ok.” He gave you a tilted smile, a little watery, and you scrubbed at your cheek at the realization you probably looked like you had indeed been blubbering in a bathroom stall.

“Alrighty, then.” Donnie was back, and you tipped your head towards him without thinking. His hand came up to grip your chin, tightening when you tried to flinch away. “It’s just me, dove, relax just a little bit.”

The cloth he wiped over your face was warm and sudsy, and you closed your eyes on instinct, leaning into his touch as he wiped away the gunk and the tear stains. The soft, repetitive motions had you sighing unconsciously, shoulders slumping in relief when the cloth ran over clean skin.

Donnie traded the cloth for his thumbs, stooping to peer into your face as his wide digits scrubbed across your cheekbones. “There you go, that’s better, right?”

You nodded, feeling his knuckles hook around the edge of your jaw, before his snout swung to the side and he focused on your cast. “Can I take a look at that, now?��

You bit your lip, nodded again, free hand casting out to find Mikey’s arm and latch onto it when Donnie lowered his goggles and peered at your arm, hands softly probing at the ends of your cast.

Mikey captured your hand, let you squeeze his palm as Donnie worked. After a moment, his thumb came out to slide slowly over the back of your hand, and you looked up, caught on the baby blues that stared back.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Raph stuck his head in. “How’s it goin’ in here?”

“Fine, despite your lack of patience.” Donnie quipped without taking his eyes off his task, and the muscle in your cheek contracted at the heavy eye roll Raph gave his brother before his green eyes focused on you.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“…fine.” The word was scratchy, and you cleared your throat before trying again. “How’s… Leo?”

Raph gave you a smirk, “ah, he’ll live, he’s just getting some ice for it. Good shot, though.”

Donnie made some little noise at your side, pulling your attention back to him. “I don’t think there’s any new damage.” He gave you a soft smile. “Just don’t go shoving your arm into anyone else’s face, kay?”

You sighed, tried to pull your hand from Mikey’s grip, but he wouldn’t allow you to, slotting your fingers between his to maintain the grip. “How bout we go get those noodles before they get cold, babes? I got the spicy ones you like.”

Your stomach rebelled at just the mention of food, but there were sharp eyes on your face, taking notice of every twitch. “I think… maybe just the movie, Angelo.”

Mikey, bless him, looked happy you were just agreeing, tugged you to your feet and almost into Donatello before the taller turtle ducked seamlessly out of your space.

“Wait, wait-” your head heaved at the quick movements, and Mikey lurched to a stop, that concerned look back. “Just, slow, Mikey. Slow.”

You… weren’t just talking about heading to the living room area, and while it might have gone right over Mikey’s head, you saw the traded looks between the other two turtles, and it made you swallow heavily. No time for that now. The thought got sloshed back to the back of your head when Mikey’s free had touched your shoulder and led you backwards into the main room.

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