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whattraintracks · 1 month

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23. Least Favorite Student - TMNT 2012

Somebody take this kid away from me, I can't stop being mean to him.

"Very good, Michelangelo." Master Splinter's fond praise rings across the dojo.

Raph shares a grin with Mikey. Always nice to hear some positive feedback, even when it's not directed at him. Besides, his brothers are probably the coolest people ever, and they deserve recognition for that.

"Raphael." He straightens at the snap in Master Splinter's tone. "You would do well to heed your younger brother's example."

The reprimand draws all the good feelings from his body. Like any rebuke from his father, it stings all on its own. But it's not just that. It's the violent see-saw his voice does from warm to cold. It's the way he says younger brother, as if it's shameful Raph's not on the same level or better than Mikey. As if they aren't the same age. As if Mikey couldn't wipe the floor with all of them if he tried. And it all compounds until it feels like a blade carving into his heart.

He grits his teeth. "Hai, Sensei."

Master Splinter sends him to practice kata on the other side of the dojo while his brothers continue to spar. Just when he thinks it can't get worse. Sensei knows sparring is Raph's favorite part of training. He struggles to focus on each form as his mind runs away from him.

This is proof Mikey's a better student than him. Leo's obviously a better student than both of them. Then it doesn't matter where Donnie falls because Splinter's always liked Donnie almost as much as he likes Leo for all he does for their family. So that makes him, Raphael, the worst of them all. Then again, he'd always known he was Sensei's least favorite student, least favorite son. He's too angry. Too rebellious. Too aggressive. Too stubborn. Too loud. Too much too much too much.

He makes it through the rest of training on autopilot, and he knows Leo can tell because he shoots Raph an odd, searching look between matches. Leo better not ask if he wants a hug again because Raph will start sobbing or entirely shut down, and neither is an option in front of Master Splinter. He doesn't, and no one else pays him any extra attention. At least, until Sensei dismisses them all, then Donnie won't leave him alone.

He's just trying to get somewhere quiet and secluded, preferably with a door that locks and thick walls that muffle sound. Preferably his room, not the lab that Donnie's dragging him toward, but Raph's too unsteady with the weight of some impending something hanging over him. He can't walk straight, he can't focus. Donnie's talking about all the things he has to do for the lair and needing something, and come on, Raph, can't you help him?

Raph's not entirely sure he can breathe anymore.

Donnie stops abruptly, peering closely at his face. "Raph," he says like static, "You good?"

Raph is not good. There is no way he can make it to his room in time for what is about to be a cataclysmic panic attack. Instead, he stumbles past Donnie through the open door of the lab. Fat tears drip to the floor moments before he does, and then he's sobbing so hard he thinks he must be drowning.

He's not sure how long he chokes on his own tears before warm hands reach for him. His limbs are detangled, pulled upright, and tugged forward until his chin rests against a shoulder. Donnie's voice washes over him, counting a familiar breathing exercise while his claws click in sync against Raph's shell. The lungs beneath him expand and deflate with exaggerated emphasis.

They sit plastron to plastron on the floor for a long time.

"Was this," Donnie says haltingly, "about what Sensei said to you? Today? In training?" His voice trails off like he doesn't want to be wrong. Like he doesn't want to be right.

Raph, still tucked into him, shrugs. Cold and spent, but he gathers his voice past the rasp in his throat. "I guess. Just happens sometimes."

"I. Ah. No?" Raph grips tighter as Donnie tries to pull back. "I mean, yeah, sometimes Sensei can be kinda harsh with his criticism, but if this is how you react to it—"

"No," Raph coughs, shaking his head. "Just a bad day, I don't know. It's fine."

Donnie gives a disgruntled rumble, tugging at Raph more insistently. "It's not fine. We should talk to Sensei about this."

Raph jerks back, masking his panic with a glare. "Don, stop. It doesn't happen. Today's just, a weird day, okay? I can handle it. It's not Sensei's fault my emotions are broke, and I can't take a bit of correction."

Donnie's eyes are painfully intense, but he doesn't speak. They stare at each other, and he still doesn't speak. And the silence grows heavy and thick until—

"Fai."

Raph grimaces. That one syllable is such an unexpectedly devastating blow. He squares his shoulders in an effort not to shrink. Donnie hasn't called him that since he was five years old. Which was only a couple of weeks ago, but still.

"Fai," Donnie repeats, coaxingly soft, like trying to talk a kid out of their shell.

Words rush out of him, "I'm sorry I'm not little anymore."

Donnie's face goes through a complicated reboot process. "You're sorry you're not what?"

"Little, a kid, de-aged." Raph clarifies, flicking his hand.

"Why would you apologise about that?" Donnie is almost comically wide-eyed. "I'm the one who did that to you. If anything, you should be mad at me."

Raph shakes his head furiously. His breathing has picked up again, and Donnie's once soothing rhythm against his shell makes his skin crawl.

"I'm too much," he gasps. "I was easier like that."

Donnie snorts, "You definitely weren't."

His breath catches.

"You were five, Raphael," Donnie deadpans, as if that explains everything.

When Raph just stares at him, he continues, "You had no emotional regulation, a penchant for mischief, and usually made absolutely zero sense. You would suddenly have opinions on things you'd never heard of before. You were so maddeningly adorable that Leo gave you whatever you wanted. And Mikey was apprenticing you in all things prank-related." Donnie leans in with a glint in his eye Raph can't guess at. "If we didn't get you back when we did, there probably would have been an outright war."

Raph suddenly crushingly realises that he has always been and will always be a horrible person. A horrible student. A horrible son. A horrible brother. He knew it. Sensei knew it. He's—

"Hey," Donnie drags him out of his spiraling thoughts with a pat on his cheek. "I'm still talking. Five-year-old Raph was an agent of chaos, but you were also incredibly kind-hearted, quick to forgive, fiercely protective, hilarious, and still my favorite brother."

Donnie smiles at him, and Raph sees—thinks he sees—kindness and love but also something bittersweet and sorry. "You're still all those things, Fai, and more. But there is nothing about you that could possibly be too much, and I want no other version of you than this one right here." He punctuates his message by thunking their foreheads together.

And they sit like that for a long time. Long enough for Raph to really start breathing easy again. Long enough for him to start believing his brother means it. Long enough to start feeling embarrassed by this whole chain of events, but never let it be said Donnie knows when to leave well enough alone.

"I didn't realise you have panic attacks," he has the gall to half-ask conversationally.

"Only sometimes," Raph grumbles, then shrugs. "That one was kinda bad."

Donnie hums and then gets that breakthrough look on his face. "Probably because I dragged you to the site of your most recent trauma. Oh, sewer apples, I'm an idiot."

"Hey." Raph smacks him. "Don't call yourself that. You're too much of a genius to be an idiot."

Besides, he’s wrong. Sure, a lot of crazy stuff happens in this lab, but Raph has only ever felt safe when he’s here with Donnie. Being alone in here? Usually a bad idea. But this is Donnie’s domain, and he likes seeing his brother in his element. Confident and commanding and sometimes even cool. As if he can hear Raph's thoughts, Donnie grins lopsidedly.

And then, cutting to the heart of it, he declares, "If I'm a genius, then I say you're not broken."

"Don," he pleads.

"Uh uh," Donnie chides cheekily, "You said I'm a genius. I'm smarter, I know best."

Raph narrows his eyes. See if he ever says anything nice to Donnie again.

"You're not broken, Raphael." And Raph is surprised at how fast he stops bragging, at his utter sincerity. "You don't need to be fixed. I'll take you however you are. I promise."

Raph would weep if he hadn't already spent all his tears for the year. "Whatever you say, genius."

That crooked smile comes back. "I love you, Fai."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too, nerd," is what he says, but Raph is sure his gratitude and joy are obvious.

He kicks away, pushing to his feet and ignoring Donnie's aggravated scoff. "Now tell me what you need help with, and maybe I'll decide it’s worth my time."

"What would I need help—Oh." Donnie looks sheepish, rising to his feet but hunching his shoulders. "I just needed to grab my controller. I wanted to play that new video game from April with you."

And that, that right there is Donatello at his sweetest. Something's changed since Raph was little, he's still not sure what. But Donnie's making an effort to spend more time out of the lab, and it matters. It matters so much.

"Well, if you wanted to lose so bad, all you had to do was ask," Raph turns and marches toward the pit, determined to leave the bad feelings of today behind.

"Oh, it is on, Raphael!"

#march for raph #surprise!#you get donnie's fics back to back #thanks for the awesome comments and reception to puzzling y'all #made my day #this is the chronological conclusion to this series #but i have one more part planned with little raph and mikey #shrunkified raph and the aftermath #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #writing off the rails

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whattraintracks · 1 month

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22. Puzzling - TMNT 2012

Don't worry, guys, that wasn't supposed to happen.

When the bit of Kraang tech he's examining (read: poking randomly in the hopes that something will happen) explodes, Donatello's not sure if he or Raphael shrieks louder. He thinks it's Raph. Which would be way funnier under different circumstances.

He blinks against sooty particulates. "Huh, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

He's amid a cloud of unexpectedly thick, slightly pink smoke. Which is on-brand but frankly annoying. He waves at the air in a vain attempt to disperse it. Maybe he can move this operation to the kitchen, work under the exhaust hood. He should probably install one in here. He gives up flailing his arms, and backs away from the desk. Step one to solving any problem is getting some distance. Step two is—oh, that's weird. The cloud doesn't seem to have moved since the initial explosion. What kind of particles are these? He hasn't seen Kraang tech do this before.

The moment he remembers Raph is also the moment he trips over him. With a yelp, he hits the ground. Hard. Raph giggles. Rude. He's going to have at least two bruises tomorrow. And his scream was definitely louder than Raph's, so he's lost any right to make fun.

"Dude," Donnie groans, pushing to his feet. At least he's away from the Kraang smoke, "Why'd you trip me?"

"I don't know," comes the high-pitched reply, "Why're you so big?"

By the time his eyes clear, he's pretty sure it's a genuine question, not an insult about his height. It makes more sense once he looks down, down, down to find Raph miniaturised.

Donnie throws his hands to his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either!" Raph just giggles again.

"Leo!"

As far as they can tell, based on Raph's appearance and memories, he's about five. Donnie can't even remember being that young. Which he counts as a good thing because kids are weird. Or maybe that's just mutant turtle kids. He doesn't have experience with normal children to establish a baseline. Leo and Sensei do, though, and they seem unperturbed by Raph's behavior. Even Mikey takes the whole thing in stride. He is, in fact, absolutely thrilled and oscillates between gathering blackmail material and doing whatever Raph asks.

Donnie will admit he's having trouble making sense of it all. First, and he thinks he’s mentioned this, that was not supposed to happen. He can't figure out how a broken Kraang tech part without any detectable energy source could have caused something like this. Which naturally leads to the question of how he's meant to fix it. Raph has no idea what happened, either, so he's no help. Worse, he just might be the most confusing being Donnie has ever met. Take yesterday, for example.

He's not sure what time it is when he stumbles out of the lab for breakfast, so it might not technically be in the range of the day at which it is appropriate to call a meal breakfast. His brain is too full of viscous pink Kraang smoke to care. It must be some mealtime because everyone but Master Splinter is in the kitchen when he arrives. Leo is at the island supervising Raph and Mikey's mess-making by the stove.

Raph perks up, "Hey Donnie! I wanna tell you a question."

"Ask nicely, Raph," Leo reminds, hiding a smile behind the rim of his tea cup.

"Please, I wanna tell you a question." He barrels on, "How do you open your labrador?”

Open his what? Donnie stares at the space above Raph's head, trying to parse the question until a nudge from Leo resets his brain. "Say what?"

"Your labrador!" He flings his arms out, nearly knocking himself to the floor. Mikey catches the lip of his shell just in time.

“What Labrador? Raph, I don't have a—”

“Yeah, you do!” He's angry of a sudden. Of course, he is. But it's weird. It's not the first time Donnie's made him mad since the incident, but he's never gotten in anyone's face or stormed off with a huff. He just screeches until he gets whatever it is that he wants. It's Raph's anger, but it's not. “It’s how you get to the place you do all your smart stuff!"

Mikey swoops in, crouching to squeeze Raph gently, then translates, “He means the door to your lab, bro.”

“The door? Oh. Why would—?" Donnie sighs heavily, sinking into the stool next to Leo. “Raph, that’s the lab door,” he enunciates, “Not a Labrador. A Labrador is a dog breed."

Just like that, Raph's face unscrunches into something thoughtful. “So it’s not a labrador?”

Well, at least the exasperation is familiar. "I literally just said that. It’s a normal door.” Leo clicks at him warningly. Come on, what is he supposed to do here? Seriously, this feels surreal. Maybe this whole dialogue is a dream, and he's hunched over his desk right now. He straightens his shell to test for any worse-than-usual aching.

“Okay," Raph says. Then he turns around. Just like that. As if the entire conversation never happened. Never mind his original question or whatever he was trying to ask. He makes no sense, literally none at all.

But, you know what, fine. Donnie has to eat anyway so he can go back to the "place where he does all his smart stuff" or whatever. So he can figure out how to get his actual brother back, who at least makes sense most of the time.

Leo finishes his tea, returning Raph's enthusiastic wave goodbye, and then there are three. Mikey and Raph finally settle down to eat whatever noxious concoction they've whipped up as Donnie cleans his dishes. Freshly fed, his brain refills with extradimensional smoke and engineering.

"Well, that's boring!"

He fumbles with his mug at the sudden shout. A glance over his shoulder finds Raph, who had been eating quietly, now glaring at him.

“You should name that boring normal door Labrador so we can just call it that anyway," he says firmly.

He's not sure why he tries to ask, “Why would I—”

“Or or!" And it's like a switch again, anger suddenly dissipating. "We could name it something cooler! Like Thundoor from Crognard!”

“Thundarr,” He corrects. It's too late, Mikey's joins in.

“That’s awesome, little dude!" Mikey laughs buoyantly. "We should name all the furniture!”

“Yeah!”

And Donnie is so tired and so lost, and Raph is too much and too little of his brother at the same time it’s not even funny anymore. He doesn't think it ever was.

“Come one, Dee!" Mikey hoists Raph onto his shoulders, naturally content to ignore the messy kitchen. "Help Raphie and I name everything in the lair!”

Donnie tries to shake his head as Raph reaches for him. “Can you! Can you, please? Just for a little bit, please, Donnie, please?” Oh, now he recalls his manners.

"No, Raph." He bangs his mug onto the drying rack, ignoring Mikey's frown. "I don't have time for your nonsense questions and weird games. I'm trying to fix you."

It's not until he slams closed the lab door that the words trailing after his dramatic exit finally click. A puzzled sort of muttering from Raph: "Fix me? But I’m not broken."

So maybe he got a little too worked up, as tired as he was. But he's better now! He's eaten. He's slept five hours. He's determined to sit here until he cracks this thing.

And then someone bangs on the door.

He drops his head with a groan. How is he supposed to heroically solve all of their problems in these conditions? “Who is it, and what do you want," he shouts into the pages of his notebook.

"Once a second!"

One second, he mouths to himself. He listens to Raph struggle with the door for a lot of seconds and hopes he'll give up. He probably won't. Donnie better unlock it before he hurts himself. Or worse, starts screaming. Only because Leo would find some way to blame Donnie for it.

He shoves the door open, not at all irritated. Or vindicated either, when Raph falls on his shell and his sai skitter across the floor. Wait. “I thought Sensei took those out of your—Hey!”

Five-year-old Raph may not be much of a ninja but he is pretty slippery. He scrambles under Donnie's arm and launches into the rolling desk chair.

“Raphael." He glowers, summoning his inner Leo, "You are not allowed in the lab—”

“Without you,” he recites, spinning the chair so Donnie only catches glimpses of his cheeky smile. “But you’re here too! So it’s okay.”

It most definitely is not. Raph has no understanding of lab safety right now, so if Raph stays in here, then Donnie will have to keep an eye on him, and if Donnie has to watch Raph, then he can't focus on his work. He does not want Raph in here, and he says so.

“Donnie, I'll be so so so good. Please!” Oh, Mikey absolutely taught him how to do that with his eyes. Not cool, Mike.

“Raph," Donnie faux whines back. "I need to work. Go play with Leo or Mikey."

"Ugh," Raph flops onto his shell, letting his head and limbs hang. “But Sensei and Leo are medating, and Mikey’s with Red."

“Meditating," he corrects, "And I know you know her name is April.”

“Casey calls her Red.”

“Yeah, well, Casey’s a—” Raph looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. A promise on his face that anything Donnie says will be repeated. "It’s polite to call people by their name."

Raph hums, continuing to spin idly, “But I don't call you Donatello, I call you Donnie. And you call me Raph or sometimes Fai.”

Not a bad point. But what was that second thing? Fai? Oh. His brain retrieves fuzzy, forgotten memories. That's right. When they were both little, that had been his nickname for Raph. Just between the two of them. He can't remember when he stopped using it.

“Right," he says slowly. "But those are nicknames. They're a shorter version of your name.”

“Oh, okay.” Then Raph rolls out of the chair, clunking to the ground shell first, and wanders away to explore the lab.

Donnie retakes the seat, resigning himself to further interruptions. Part of his brain is devoted to thinking up better excuses in case this is one of those conversations Raph returns to without warning. The rest of his awareness is on Raph as he pokes and prods at books and equipment and even poor Timothy. It takes the better part of a half hour for him to realise he's still sitting at his desk not moving a muscle.

He growls, gripping his head. Raph is on him in an instant. "What's wrong? Can I help? Do you need a book? Do you want one of mine? I can get Leo! Or Sensei, or—"

"No," Donnie snaps.

He gapes as Raph's beak trembles and his eyes fill with tears. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Please stop crying." He slides to the floor next to Raph, "I'm sorry? It's just. I'm trying to focus! I need to fix you, but I don't—"

“I don’t want you to fix me!” He shouts, scrubbing his face and hiccupping. “I just want to play! Why won’t you play with me anymore?"

“Raph, I," Donnie looks down at his hands, "I don’t have time,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes, you do! You’re just being mean!” He runs out of the lab. Probably to someone who actually understands him. Someone who tries. Donnie wonders if he’ll ever stop messing things up for Raph.

Because as far as they can tell, this version of Raph went to bed one day, and the family he found upon waking was suddenly different. Of course, Raph is frustrated and confused and probably a little scared. He's not just normal Raph in a smaller body. Donnie might've realised that sooner if he'd spent more time with him instead of causing one mess after the other and then hiding from it all in his lab.

Donnie doesn't remember when he was five, but he's heard Sensei's stories about their childhood. The ones about his younger self hanging on Raph's every word. That one embarrassing retelling of the biggest fight Donnie ever caused by announcing Raph was his favorite brother. His father's memories of them doing everything together, at least until Donnie really got into science. So he steps out of the lab and locks it behind him. His brother, this brother, needs to come first.

He must look contrite enough that Leo only grills him a little before he points to Raph's room. After a single breath of indecision, he sits, shell against the door.

“Hey, Fai?” he starts, tugging at his fingers, “I’m really sorry. I have been pretty mean lately, haven’t I?” It takes a few moments, but a little thud echoes on the other side of the door.

Relieved, he continues, “I’m not as good at this as I used to be. I might need your help. But I’m out of my lab right now, and we can play whatever you want.”

Donnie hits the floor before he realises the door has swung open. Little Raph is looking down at him, eyes still watery but excited. "Really? Anything? Even Space Heroes!"

And Donnie almost can't believe it's that easy. He smiles with Raph's infectious joy. “Space Heroes? Who are you, Leo?”

Raph collapses into him with a laugh that banishes the rest of his tears as Donnie reaches out, tickling him just like he's seen their big brother do. He's still giggling when Donnie staggers to his feet. “Think I could use some bedding to build us the Dauntless?”

Raph cheers. Launching into an explanation of his favorite episodes and characters as he directs them around the lair to collect supplies. If this isn't blackmail material, Donnie doesn't know what is. Raph will never be able to deny that he likes Space Heroes ever again. Once Donnie figures out how to reverse this Kraang-smoke-induced de-aging that is.

He does still have to. They need Raph as he should be: their teammate, their protector, their equal. But if he were here in those roles right now, Donnie knows he would have heard a thousand times over that he needs to sleep, to eat, to take a break for at least five minutes, Don, come on.

So he'll try. He'll take breaks to hang out with his favorite brother. He'll get a lot of experience building sheet spaceships and pillow forts. And by the end of it all, Donnie will realise his little brother really does just want to play and ask silly questions that probably don’t seem so silly to him. He'll decide this little version of Raph isn't a puzzle of confusing emotions. He's the same pieces he's always been, unfiltered and untethered from all the pain and fear of their older selves.

And so, even after Raph returns to 16, whenever the thought creeps up on Donnie that he's not doing enough, that he needs to fix it. He'll lock his lab behind him and say, "Hey, Fai! Wanna play something?"

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whattraintracks · 2 months

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9. What's Wrong with Me - TMNT 2012

A follow up to Day 2. Raph gets hugged, held, and loved.

Raph wakes up exhausted. He's waspish without trying, takes offense at every look and touch and tease, and he just knows. He doesn't even bother pretending to meditate before training. He counts his breaths, staring at a candle until his eyes unfocus, and all he can hear is his racing heartbeat.

Sensei pairs him with Mikey for sparring, and he thinks, hopes, maybe this'll help? Maybe he just needs to twist, and kick, and punch the buzzing ache out of his limbs. Maybe it'll be enough.

It's not.

Because Mikey is determined to show him up today, and boy is he in fine form. He can't get a single hit in with sai, fist, or any other part of him. Mikey is completely untouchable as he dodges and flips and taunts and laughs and laughs and laughs.

And for a single terrifying second, Raph really truly wants to maim him.

So he runs.

Casey, for once, doesn't ask stupid questions when Raph shows up unannounced at his window. He tugs on his gear and leads the way to heads that need cracking. Doesn't seem to mind his silent company either, which is pretty cool of him, but apparently not at all what Raph needs.

Sparring with Mikey had sparked this painfully angry feeling between his lungs. The thing sitting tensed in the hollow of his belly all morning tore itself out of Raph's body, uncaring of who got hurt so long as someone did. But at some point between here and the sewers, it curled back into his shell. Now, that's all Raph wants to do.

The thought of fighting punks with Casey, even just being around Casey, is drawing his skin too tight. They haven't said a word, but everything else is too loud. The cars, the street lamps, his thoughts, his skin, and his feet hitting the concrete. The longer he runs beside Casey, saying nothing, the more inches gained against rage give way to something sticky and cold and awful in an entirely different way that he can't explain.

So before his spiraling thoughts can send him tripping off a roof and long before they find anyone to beat up, he ditches his best friend and makes the march of shame back home.

What's wrong with me.

He stops before the turnstiles. The same thought looping in his head since he left Casey.

What is wrong with me.

Training is long over. Two fists against his plastron. The awareness that someone might be in the main room. He doesn't move.

He doesn't want. He can't. He should go to his room. Crawl into bed, then his shell. Sleep for the next week. He hasn't eaten. Spike needs to be fed. He stands at the top of the stairs. He thinks he might be stuck.

What is wrong with me?

Something moves. Someone. Leo. Not Leo, please. He looks at Raph and sees something small and fragile and prone to tears. Something five. Something gone gone gone.

Maybe that's just in his head, too.

What is wrong with me!

"Piss off, Leo." He unsticks. He steps. He stops.

"Raph, wait." Leo shuffles. Nervous. That's wrong.

Viscous oil fills his lungs. A familiar anger reserved for his own wrongness. His big brave brother is nervous worried afraid. Of him.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH

"Do you want a hug?"

He blinks.

Blinks again.

Blinks at Leo, and his brain restarts.

Leo walks closer, and now Raph can see slow, steady purpose in his steps. He's telegraphing and deliberately noising his footfalls. Not with fear or anxiety, not even mischief, as far as he can tell. There's a careful look of concern that speaks to something more. He stops just an outstretched arm's length away, posture open and patient.

It isn't much work at all to stumble into his brother's arms, to let them encircle him with their impressive strength. When Raph starts sinking, Leo drops to the floor with him, never letting up on his fierce hold.

At last, the awful throbbing thing that sometimes takes residence in Raph's chest is soothed.

"I love you, bro," Leo says, quiet and warm and just for him.

Raph hugs back fiercely enough to push a wheezing laugh out of his big brother's lungs.

#march for raph #inspired of course by the start of “meet casey jones” tmnt 2003 #part of a kinda sorta series with a few other prompts so donnie and mikey can hug raph too #raphael hamato #leonardo hamato #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #shrunkified raph and the aftermath #writing off the rails

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whattraintracks · 2 months

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2. Revenge - TMNT 2012

Raphael gets revenge for a fallen brother.

Raph stands over Leo's fallen form, heartbreak and fear in his eyes, and Leo almost gives up right then. But Raph steels himself just as fast. He turns to their enemy, fists clenched, the picture of righteous fury. He has always been their protector.

And with every ounce of force in his body, he boldly declares, "Don't worry, Leo! I'll revenge you!"

Leo really tries not to giggle with Mikey at that for the sake of the game and the fierce little five-year-old holding fast above him.

Predictably, Donnie's head pops up from behind the couch cushion barricade. "Actually, Fai, it's avenge—or, wait. Maybe both are right? You'd usually say—"

His impromptu grammar lesson cuts to a screech when he gets a face full of little turtle. The two of them tumble into a tight ball, Raph struggling with all his might and Donnie striking that careful balance between fight and play they've all had to learn the last few days to protect a brother much smaller than usual.

Leo rolls onto his plastron, pillow-induced death forgotten, to keep an eye on them. Raph's always been pretty rough and tumble, and even at 5, they could take some good hits in a spar. But it's still a little scary to wrestle with him when he's this small, to check their strength, to remember that your partner doesn't remember all the steps to your lethal dance.

Game forgotten, Mikey romps off to help Sensei carry in the tea and snacks Raph had adorably insisted on before his afternoon nap today.

"Man, Sensei, were we really this much work as kids?"

Leo rolls his eyes fondly at Mikey's moaning. All he'd done was crouch behind couch cushions. Meanwhile, Leo and Raph had fought for their lives to overtake Donnie's masterfully built pillow fort. Leo fought with honor and fell valiantly, thank you very much.

Splinter hums thoughtfully, "Yes. And no."

Mikey groans again, more playfully this time.

Leo can picture the twinkle in their father's eyes. Raph is laughing so hard he can't possibly be breathing, so Donnie's hands cease their tickle assault to hover anxiously over him.

"The four of you were certainly a lot to handle," he hears Sensei continue, "But you could usually be counted upon to care for and entertain each other."

Leo looks over just in time to catch Mikey's broad grin.

Splinter beckons Leo, and Donnie's not far behind, lugging an enshelled Raph.

"He's alright," Donnie preempts, "Just hiding from the nefarious tickle monster." Echoey giggles emerge from the little shell in agreement.

Leo basks in the comfort of taking tea with his family, of Donnie and Mikey doting on their little big brother, of Sensei watching over them with fondness and pride. They all try not to laugh at Splinter's disgruntled expression when Raph dunks his animal crackers into his teacup, suppressed snickers turning to full-bodied laughter at Raph's sly grin.

Then Mikey announces nap time, and Leo can't help the feeling that something important is slipping away from him. Raph lifts his arms sweetly, all sleepy and sated, to be bundled and whisked away. He calls I love yous and good nights over Mikey's shoulder.

Leo's heart hasn't stopped clenching since Donnie's panicked shout drew them all to the lab and revealed his much-shrunk brother, but it twists painfully again when he returns that call.

A furred claw settles on his shoulder. "Something troubles you, my son?"

"He's just," and Leo's not even sure he can put it into words, "so much more, Sensei."

And he doesn't mean it like Mikey did. Sure, the little guy needs a lot of care and attention, but Leo could never be frustrated about that. All he ever wants is to care for and attend to his brothers, and that Raph isn't pushing him away out of some sense of teenage pride fills him with warmth and sweetness.

What he really means to ask is, where did it all go?

Where did this happy little turtle go? The one who had bouts of hot anger but could be soothed with hugs and kisses. Who cried fat tears when he thought he'd hurt his brothers even accidentally. Who shrieked with joy at the sight of a beloved toy, or movie, or treat. Who said I love you as easy as breathing. Who felt so much so loudly and so brightly.

Sensei nods sagely. "Raphael has always been a sensitive child with large emotions. He has better control of them at your age." But Donnie's looking right at Leo, something fragile in his eyes. Guilt, probably, and understanding.

And Leo wonders sometimes after things go back to normal. When Raph is big again and still himself, always himself, but closed off in his anger, quieter in his fear and sadness and guilt, secret in his joy and love like they're a weakness and not the strongest parts of him. He wonders if maybe there's a part of Raph who still just wants to be hugged and held and loved when his emotions get too big for his body.

#march for raph #wasn't sure i'd post anything for today and then inspiration struck #did not go the direction i expected but i'm really happy with how this turned out!#also totally stole donnie calling raph 'fai' from cxlesstial's hogwarts fic because it brings me so much joy #raphael hamato #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #michelangelo hamato #master splinter #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #shrunkified raph and the aftermath #writing off the rails

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whattraintracks · 2 months

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12. Stir Crazy - TMNT 2012

Companion piece to Day 2 and Day 9. A freshly unshrunk Raph hangs out with Mikey.

Honestly, Raph's day is going pretty great. He wakes up in his 16-year-old body—never taking that for granted again. He pulls off a really sick move in training, and Sensei's like so proud of him. And since he has the one outlet for all of his emotions, he proceeds to take out his joy on the training dummy. Figures he can entertain himself with that until patrol tonight. Pretty solid plan, if you ask him. At least, until Sensei tells him to take a chill pill before he over-exerts himself. Not in, you know, those words, but, yeah.

So then he tries to call Casey. No luck. Which—duh, Raph—it's the middle of the day up above, and Casey's probably at school. Or ditching to beat up bad guys. Or sleep. Or whatever, really. Anyway, it's too bright for him to leave the lair. So now he's jittering on the bench, trying and failing to watch Crognard.

Ugh, Raph is in a really good freaking mood right now, and that shouldn't be making him mad, but he's going stir-crazy in his own body, and he doesn't know what to do about it! He thinks he's going to vibrate through the bench.

A sudden increase of Mikey on his lap ignites the itch in his skin to something almost painful, so he shoves him right off. Mikey just rolls with it. Literally.

"Sup, bro!" He says once he comes to a stop. "Wanna play Just Dance?"

Raph blinks way too many times. Maybe he'll launch into orbit instead. "Play what?"

"Just Dance!" Mikey shows off two Wii controllers. They're practically miniature in his hands. "Epic dance battle game. It's like Guitar Hero, but you do it with your whole body!" He flings his arms out and kinda shimmies on the floor, probably to demonstrate.

See, Raph's day is also turning out to be the clingy-Mikey sort. He tells himself he's only putting up with it because he's in a good mood and has nothing better to do. But, well, he is maybe sort of enjoying the company. Something about how Mikey still wants to hang out with him even when he's not a cute five-year-old anymore.

Plus, he's not such a jerk he would deny a spooked sibling some reassurance. Mikey had woken them all up way too early, sobbing about who knows what. He reached for Raph first, though, which tells enough.

Raph doesn't like things that scare his baby brother. He definitely doesn't like things that leave Mikey shaking in his arms first thing in the morning and clinging to his shell all day. So he shrugs, then nods, then shrugs again. "Sure."

Apparently, Just Dance is really loud and kind of amazing.

They play round after round, and Raph feels so light and settled at the same time he's not even mad when he loses his third dance in a row. Mikey grabs his hands to bounce the two of them around in a circle, gloating good-naturedly, and Raph maybe even starts to smile a little.

He's just, he's really, really happy. Dancing feels good, and—after a lot of convincing from Mikey and just enough protest from himself—so does belting out songs he doesn't know with a brother he does. Even when Mikey stops bouncing, Raph keeps shaking their joined hands up and down. His little brother just giggles and starts stomping his feet.

"Love you, Raphie!" Mikey declares, effervescent in a way all his own.

Raph grins bright and full, and stomps his feet, too.

#there will be more stuff with shrunkified raph!#the associated fics are just all out of order prompt-wise #went for more of stream of consciousness style here #march for raph #raphael hamato #michelangelo hamato #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #shrunkified raph and the aftermath #writing off the rails

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whattraintracks · 30 days

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28. Broken Vase - TMNT 2012

Little Raph goes out with a crash.

Mikey looks up from his comic at the sound of a crash. Little Raph runs into his bedroom a moment later, and Mikey's just thrilled the tiny troublemaker came to him first. He beckons Raph to his lap, where the kid tucks inside his shell. With a blanket and some adjustment, the lump looks just like a pillow. Mikey snickers, practicing his innocent face for whoever inevitably comes looking for their mini maestro of mischief.

Seriously, five-year-old Raph is the prince of pranks. The same sweet face and small form that nobody suspects make him the perfect accomplice. Mikey had no idea Raph was so devious. He actually has to reign in some of the kid's ideas. Even then, they've gone through more water balloons, silly string, and air horns in the last couple of weeks than Mikey does in a few months. The guys are still setting off bang snaps around the lair.

Pranks or no pranks, Mikey loves getting to spend so much time with Raph. He and Donnie were thick as thieves when they were all little, and these days Leo's his best friend whenever they're not fighting, so it makes Mikey pretty happy that, right now, he's kid Raph's go-to brother. The others will joke about Mikey being easy to get along with because he's the most childlike, yadda yadda yadda. But you know what! Maybe that's not such a bad thing. What's wrong with dressing up, and playing pretend, and arts and crafts and coloring? Is it just 'cause they're a little older now? Mikey couldn't care less. It makes him happy, it makes Raph happy, and that's all that matters.

He gives Raph's shell a little rat-a-tat-tat and settles back to read. He doesn’t get very deep into his stack when he realises two things. First, no one's come calling for Raph. Second, his lapful of turtle is shaking pretty hard, and it's not with giggles.

He lifts a corner of the blanket. "You good, little man?"

The only answer is a hiccupy sob.

"Aw, buddy,” he winces.

Sometimes Raph's deviousness comes back to bite him. One of their early pranks caught Leo on a bad day. Leo got really startled and almost started embarrassed-crying, and then Raph was devastated and started actual-crying, and it just went downhill from there. So Mikey's been trying to keep their antics harmless and random.

"No one's come looking for you. They can't be too mad," he assures.

Raph just keeps crying. Mikey’s debating if he should ride it out when he has a brief flash of panic. Mentally shaking himself for not checking sooner, he asks, "Are you hurt?"

More sniffles.

"Hamato Raphael," he says in his best impression of Leo's leader voice, "Are you hurt?"

Finally, a thin, watery voice replies, "No."

"Okay,” he heaves a sigh of relief. “Okay, that's good, little dude." That took years off his life. No wonder Leo acts so old; Master Splinter must feel ancient.

He slumps against the headboard, tugging Raph a little closer. "No worries, you can chill with big bro Mikey until you feel better. I won't let anyone bother you."

Since Raph usually settles down with snuggles, Mikey returns to his comics, mostly at ease. Sure enough, the quaking and sad noises stop by the time he finishes his last one. Oh, hey, it's probably close to nap time.

"What should we make for your pre-nap snack, kiddo?" he asks cheerfully.

No response.

He repeats Raph's name a few times. Poking him gets nothing, too, so Mikey assumes the micro turtle fell asleep. Oh well, there’s no point in waking him now that he’s out. Someone'll feed him when he wakes up hangry.

With nothing to do and pretty hungry himself, Mikey uses his rad ninja skills to slide Raph to the bed—oh, ouch, numb legs, very numb legs—and wobbles out to find some food. Good old 'out of sight, out of mind' takes over, and Mikey promptly forgets about all things Raphael for the next three hours.

He's having a dinner-making-jam-sesh in the kitchen when Leo peeks in to ask, “Have you seen Raph?”

"Hmm?" He tugs an earbud down. "No, not since I left him to nap in my room."

"In your room?" Leo echoes.

"Yep," Mikey pops the p with a smile, "'Cause I'm obviously little Raph's favorite big brother." But Leo doesn't take the bait. He just furrows his brow and heads back the way he came.

Something pings in the back of Mikey's head. An annoying noise he figures is the universe telling him this is important. So he tosses everything into the slow cooker and races after Leo. Mikey follows soft murmuring to his bedroom, where Leo's crouched beside Raph still tucked in, still in his shell. His big brother rubs a gentle hand across the turtle tot's carapace. Raph hasn't moved an inch since Mikey left, and it fills him with anxiety. The little guy's not moving, not making any noise, he can't even tell if he's breathing.

"Little brother," Leo croons, "will you come out and tell me what's wrong?"

Mikey thanks everything for the gasping, whiny sob that echoes out. Leo catches him with a free hand as he stumbles to the foot of the bed.

No amount of coaxing or bribery draws Raph out, so Leo picks him up and motions Mikey toward the dojo. Right. Getting an adult is absolutely the call in this situation.

They trek to the dojo, picking up a fretting Donnie along the way. Bowing as they enter, Mikey's faintly impressed Leo can manage the correct angle with Raph in his arms and without falling over. Master Splinter is kneeling beside a pile of ceramic shards. After a quick rewind, his brain finds the audio of the crash that started this whole thing. His eyes catch on the dusty robe and an old repair kit, and he wonders if Sensei went to the storage room between then and now.

Furry ears flick in acknowledgment. "Sit, my sons."

Mikey's heart twists when Raph's breath hitches. Leo must notice, too. He kneels to face Master Splinter but doesn't let the little turtle go, arms bundling him tighter. Mikey and Donnie kneel on either side of them, and it feels like falling into rank.

Master Splinter watches them settle from the corner of his eye.

"When Raphael was quite young," he pauses, snout twitching, "the first time, that is—he broke this bowl in a fit of anger." He gestures at the dish before him. It's a beautiful gold-veined thing, and it takes Mikey a minute to notice the original interrupted pattern beneath.

Sensei's voice sharpens subtly, "What have I taught you of kintsugi."

Mikey and his brothers recite the old lesson with practiced ease. They could probably repeat Sensei's cultural lessons word-for-word in their sleep, dreaming about a heritage that can never be theirs. Mikey stumbles over his words only when Raph finally pops out of his shell, rubbing at his eyes and curling against Leo.

Sensei nods approvingly. "Things broken in anger can never be fully restored, but they can be made functional again."

He looks directly at Raph, "Tomorrow, you will aid me in mending this vase you have broken, an active meditation on the consequences of your anger. Do you understand?"

Raph bobs his head miserably. Mikey has just enough time to think, that's it?, before Sensei dismisses all four of them.

That evening, Raph hardly says a word. He's not moping, just quiet, reserved, like he's trying to avoid attention. Mikey's heart breaks when even his best jokes and silliest faces can't bring out the smile that usually comes so easy to his little brother. The three elder turtles wordlessly agree to tag team bedtime, and Mikey feels a little better knowing Raph went to bed with big hugs from each of them.

Then, just like that, it’s over. Donnie cracks the reaging agent, and Raph is back in all his slightly-taller-than-Mikey glory before lunch. And it’s great! It’s Raph whole and himself and 100% back to normal, and he predictably insists they forget the little thing ever happened.

Except Mikey can't. Can't stop thinking about how crappy little Raph's last full day with them was and that it's kind of maybe his fault for not noticing it sooner. He dreams that night of a little big brother with golden veins but broken eyes and that no matter how tight he hugs that tiny turtle, his pieces just won't stay together.

He wakes with a shout that gathers all his big brothers. He lunges teary-eyed at Raph—normal-sized, too big to wrap his arms around Raph—babbling half-formed apologies. Leo and Donnie join the hug, and Raph is pressed in from three sides. Mikey prays that will always be enough to mend whatever tries to break him.

#march for raph #i swear i like 2012 splinter but we all have to make sacrifices for the plot #also sorry to end this series on such an angsty note but i’ve had this part outlined for a long time and i still really like it #feel free to read/reread the immediate follow up stir crazy to feel happy again #raphael hamato #michelangelo hamato #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #master splinter #shrunkified raph and the aftermath #tmnt 2012 #tmnt #writing off the rails

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